Turkish novels - Sevgili Arsız Ölüm (Lovely Death, 1983) - Latife Tekin

"In 1957 I was born in the Karacefen village of Kayseri in the town of Bünyan. As soon as I learned to walk I started to read. School was the man's room in our house. I learned to read and write while playing with the genies under the cedars. There were daisies and periwinkles under the cedars in karacefenk. My childhood passed between them. I secretly entered their association. I visited their houses. I went to your weddings. I learned languages, day and night games. My father worked in Istanbul.

Mom told me now that the heart is wounded, strange woman I forgot now. He read, wrote, sewed, injected, and spoke Kurdish and Arabic. The place where I did not hear the name of the gypsy gypsy people, people asked. My dad returned from Istanbul with baggy money, collected to the village. Our house was filled with strange instruments. The magic iron I do not know what it does. I came to Istanbul in 1966. I came to Istanbul in 1966. My childhood seems to be divided into two with a sharp pain.

Unrealized dreams tore apart the people I was born and raised among them. My father was rapidly laboring and increasingly unemployed. My two brothers and sisters came to work on construction. I broke through the seven brothers like a shimmering shadow. I paid the price to go to the school from fear and loneliness. Incredible swings, a thousand types of denial and oppression. I struggled to catch up with the city. Every part of the wound was covered in bruises. When I was struggling I fell apart from the people I was born and raised with. But I have resisted my own self-esteem, slice, and the ability to protect the love that those people have caressed to me with irresistible enthusiasm."

The novel in your hand is the gift of the people I grew up among them for this resistance. I wish I could write it earlier, with a more shattered technique.

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