Dead Letters (flash comic fiction/prose poem)


Based on Dante’s inferno I wrote and illustrated this small piece. The story is base on letters that you would never write and hence it is called Dead Letters. 

This is also a pastiche of My name is Red.

image001 by doodle_juice

I am the lost man, not knowing who I am or where I come from I am lost.I look at my reflection on the surface of water and see a middle-aged man I do not recognize.I see a ghostly dark forest, no path, no beginning no ending.I have no desire to move yet I must, but in which way I do not know.  Have I been here, have I circled this place many times I do not know. I desire a past I do not remember. A past that never existed.

image003 by doodle_juice
image003, a photo by doodle_juice on Flickr.

I am the she-wolf. I am the one that desires your flesh.The hunger never satisfied.The one that forced you to move.I chase you in your darkest hour.Haunt you whenever you find peace. I send you in circles till you become breathless. You see me in the shadows till you reach the end of your time. I am your fear. I am your foe yet I am your friend! You are who you are for who I am.

image005 by doodle_juice
image005, a photo by doodle_juice on Flickr.

I am your uncle. I am the poet. The one who had it but lost it all.The envy of all others but destined for the dark abyss. I wrote poems.It was left unread when I burnt my books in my rage. I am the letter you sent to the past, somewhere where there are long carefree summers before they turned to dark winters.When as a child you held my hand, I gave you a toy gun and said, look we’ll shoot whatever monster comes your way. Follow me and leave this forest. Learn from my demise. Your home will then show its way.

image007 by doodle_juice
image007, a photo by doodle_juice on Flickr.

I am your home land. I am the lion.Old and angry I roar in pain.You hear my roar and the sound echoes in the forest.I am the letters you write to save me. The letters in which you tore your heart caring for my children. Your love for me turns your head back but I am not the one who holds you back.

image009 by doodle_juice
image009, a photo by doodle_juice on Flickr.

I am your faith. I am the blind childish faith that you once had.You left me here as I was.  A boy standing here praying, amongst the ruins and to whom I do not know!Do not look at me, I was of no use to you then I did not make you lose nor find your way! I am the letter that you sometimes miss. It is when you ask would it not have been better?

image011 by doodle_juice
image011, a photo by doodle_juice on Flickr.

I am your mother. I am the one who abandoned you.In time you learnt why I made my choices. Now I live in a place free from blame. When you became a man you saw me as a girl. But still seek the smell of my milk in the world and in everything that you seek. You have learnt to let go so I am not the one who holds you here.I am the letter you write for every woman you love. Each with blue eyes, or brown. Each a reflection of me.

image013 by doodle_juice
image013, a photo by doodle_juice on Flickr.

I am the hostage taker. I am the image of you that the world sees.I am the mask of your skin.I am your “TH” becoming “T” or “D”. The foreign man who could not be trusted.The one whose language is the second language no matter what tongue you use.I lurk in your shadow but I am not holding you back.I am not you. Do not write to me. I am not you.

image015 by doodle_juice
image015, a photo by doodle_juice on Flickr.

I am your future. I am the future of all men.Before me there is darkness.After me there is darkness.Learn to live or lose your moment. I do not hold you back. In your letter, I push you forward till you embrace me as a friend, but all in good time. All in good time!

image017 by doodle_juice
image017, a photo by doodle_juice on Flickr.

I am love. I make you blissfully free any moment.When you are with me there is no you and I there is simply I. With me you are not in a place and you are not yourself so you are not lost. What has held you in the forest is losing the sight of me. Let go! I am the care in your beloved’s eyes. The smell of your daughter’s hair.A kiss on your bold father’s head. I am not a letter, I am not lost. I am with you always! Go from this forest and live with me!

My Name is Red by Orhan Pamuk (notes on my favourite books)


orhan-pamuk_18 by doodle_juice
orhan-pamuk_18, a photo by doodle_juice on Flickr.

My Name is Red by Orhan Pamuk

Written by Orhan Pamuk in 1998 and translated by Erdağ M. Göknar in 2001 The Novel is based in 16th century Istanbul and depicts the lives of miniaturist and illuminators. Turkey then was becoming the bridge between Europe and Asia. Set as a murder mystery Pamuk explores the culture of the time as well as highlight the conflicts between Art and religion. Western Art that was seen as encouraging idolatry stood against non-realistic eastern Art. The Artists exposed to Frankish style of painting debated their traditional standing on the function of Art. Questions of Western individuality as compared to community-based work are raised. Art in eastern world was collaborative and many Artists creating masterpieces left them unsigned.

There is a hidden free indirect narrative that only exists if you consider the book in its entirety. The indirect narrative is about eastern culture itself (this almost becomes a character) and why it stayed behind whereas West (shown in book as Frankish influence) progressed after that point.

With numerous narrators Pamuk forms a cultural mosaic and uncovers a crisis in the eastern world that exists even today.

Multiple narrators in first person provide a testimony. Since they only know a small part this device of narration also serves the element of murder-mystery.

Here is an example of the debate within the book:

“This, however, is precisely what the new European masters are doing, and they’re not satisfied with merely depicting and displaying … The artists also dare to situate their subjects in the centre of the page, as if man were meant to be worshiped

(Pamuk, 2001,p. 465)

My Name is Red is seen as a historical mystery Novel but with speaking corpse, talking dog and tree (often as illustrations of such things) it also has a magical element however  laws of probability are strictly obeyed so this is not a magical realism Novel.

This is perhaps more than a Novel, it is an essay on Art, and it is a philosophical debate. It is a crucial moment when a picture no longer was an aid for meaning of text, and as Enishte discovers (in his trip to Venice) it stands on it’s own and has it’s own meaning:

“As I slowly sensed that the underlying tale was the picture itself”.

(Pamuk, 2001,p. 41)

Choice for Art is perhaps allegorical for choice for life. Otherwise why would a tree be a narrator? Even a tree contributes to the Art debates. The tree does not wish to be merely an ornament or depict reality, it wants to be associated with another entity and have meaning. The tree takes the established stand:

“I don’t want to be a real tree, I want to be its meaning.”

(Pamuk, 2001,p. 80)

Pamuk (with multiple narration) allows many views of the inadequate narrators and in their own voice. Short chapters in first person provide many streams of consciousness.

Another reason for so many is perhaps because he seem to be interested in creating a Novel which like a painting has many colours and just like one of the illustrations is a beautiful image that needs to be re-examined many times. Perhaps just as illustrations each chapter which resembles an illustration is a prose equivalent of an illumination. In the Radio four Book club interview Pamuk mentions that he wanted to write a Novel that would be about the love of painting (he used to be a painter before being a writer). He mentions that he wanted to show that in life there is always something hidden on the shaded side of our vision. He did a lot of research from that period for this book. Reading it (and having read some of the original poems and books mentioned in the Novel most of which are Persian literature) I could recognize his pastiche of such literature. For instance the romance of Black and Shekure echoes the actual story of Hüsrev and Shirin (Nizami, 1170). Hüsrev goes on long arduous journeys before returning to Shirin who initially because of his marriage of convenience rejects him. Farhad loves Shirin unconditionally from a distance. He seems to mix these two in Black for this book.

In this extract Black has depicted himself and his love as the famous characters Hüsrev and Shirin:

“on horseback closely resembled that moment,

pictured a thousand times in which Hüsrev visits Shirin”.

(Pamuk, 2001,p. 54)

Pamuk gives his female characters a lot of wit and makes them resourceful. He reflects on a culture, which takes away economical-social choices, and yet shows how such women have to be even stronger or smarter than men in order to secure themselves or their children.

Esther for instance (despite her illiteracy) has developed a Niche for being a love messenger and could read a letter from the smell! She understands people’s social standing and their power:

“My poor Shekure, you’re neither a nobleman nor a pasha with a fancy seal”.

(Pamuk, 2001,p. 57)

Pamuk uses Esther’s narration to provide gossip like insight. Esther is very observant. She is particularly aware of other women around her.

“ ‘Shekure, the daughter of Master Enichte, is burning with love”, I said.’ “

(Pamuk, 2001,p. 206)

Shekure who is beautiful and is adored by men has enough wit to assess suitability of men rather than fall for them based on impulse. Here she reveals this:

“it pleases me that I’m being watched.

And if I happen to tell a lie or two from time to time,

it’s so you don’t come to any false conclusions about me.”

(Pamuk, 2001,p. 67)

Stylistically the book is rather poetic. As a writer I’ll experiment with first person narration and stream of consciousness in his style.

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