The 1999 Mamara earthquake, approximately 7. 6 in magnitude, struck northwestern Turkey on August 17, 1999 at about 3:01am local time. Even though the event only lasted for thirty-seven seconds, the event ended up killing up to forty-five thousand people and left approximately half a million people homeless. 50,000 houses were heavily damaged, 2000 other buildings collapsed and 4000 other building were heavily damaged. This terrible disaster forms the core of Alan Drew’s first novel, Gardens of Water, a story that mirrors a seismic shift, not in just the earth, but as also lived by a poor Kurdish family who find themselves caught up in an evolving world and in the evolving politics of their country where Turks and Kurds, Christian, and Moslems inevitably clash with unexpected consequences. Consigned to virtually living in a ramshackle tent city, after the earthquake destroys their apartment block in downtown of Golcuk, the club footed grocer, Sinan Basioglu, his wife, Nilufer, along with their fifteen-year-old daughter, Irem, and their nine-year-old son, Ismail, are subjected to the whims of fate as their lives become one long trial after another. A strong, but devoutly conservative man who is fiercely protective of his family, particularly of Ismail whom he loves with an unadulterated abundance, Sinan is at first unaware of the more serious implications that surface when he becomes involved with the an American director of one of the expensive private missionary schools, Marcus Roberts, and his wife Sarah and their tattooed son Dylan. The Robert’s have been living in the same apartment block, but they are unexpectedly thrust together with Sinan and his family and it is Sinan who ultimately resents these Americans who are pushing their way into his life, these Americans who are in league with the Turks and have helped the Turkish government destroy Kurdish villages. In the aftermath of the quake, Sarah has sacrificed her own life so that Ismail may live, when he falls and then wakes in Sarah’s arms with the water she had placed on his lips. Meanwhile, Sinan is sorry for Marcus’ loss, but he needs to make the American understand that the vulnerable Irem must not be seen with his son Dylan. Even on the night of the quake, Dylan had tried to touch her, and panicked, she has silently tried to pull away. But the poor Irem just cannot help herself; she’s drawn to the dashing and seductive Dylan, partly out of sexual curiosity, but also because she’s trying to find the love that her father has for most of his life denied her. All her life she’s known that Sinan has favored her younger brother rather than here and this knowledge throws her into a maelstrom of insecurities. As Dylan and Irem continue to meet for furtive trysts at night by the seashore, an evolving personal, political and indeed competitive dynamic develops between Marcus and Sinan. Sinan resents the fact that he’s led a hardscrabble life defined by blood, death and destruction, when he hears of Marcus’ life, his trips to and from America and his simple ability to make the choice to quit his job. This is so outside the realm of Sinan’s experience. Considering that the this delicate family dynamic is doomed to rupture, Sinan’s role as patriarch and provider for his family is bought into question when they relocate to a sodden and makeshift camp with only a group of American Christian missionaries to support them, feed them and offer them some measure of comfort. It is here finally, that Sinan knows he needs to do something, where everyone is gone, and everything has changed. Faced with an errant, daughter, willfully disobeying him and flirting with the American boy, and now the Americans themselves, here to help, even though everyone in his home town knows that America supported the Turkish paramilitary, Sinan is almost helpless to unravel all of the emotional baggage created years ago when he was a small boy in his old childhood home of Yesilli. A sense of desolation is constant in this heart-breaking novel, especially for the Sinan as he fanatically tries to find work, forced to carry televisions through the crowded streets of Istanbul, his swollen foot aching as he walks, the weight of them almost unbearable; and the virginal Irem as she gradually becomes torn between the affections of her young American beau and her stubborn, old-world father who refuses to let he go her own way. Weaving into the narrative the themes of god and death and how the dead can finally win over all the living people, Drew has written a fascinating account of modern Turkey that combines the cosmopolitanism of Istanbul with the smaller towns, all ravaged by this terrible earthquake. The author also writes a tender account of an average family, who are forced once and for all, to confront the extraordinary compassion and capacity for forgiveness that lies within their hearts. Mike Leonard March 08.

Gardens of Water–Alan Drew My suggestion: Don’t bother with plot summaries or opinions, just read it for yourself and if you’re in a book group–make it a group read. Gardens of Water has a lot for everyone, and gives insight into the culture clash within Muslim families in a way that’s different. The Kurdish family (father, mother, 15-yr old daughter, 9-yr-old son) has been displaced to Turkey in the late 1990s. For the first time I feel some understanding of the Muslim male viewpoint, usually portrayed in a rather simplistic almost inscrutable, cold way. The father is old-fashioned strict but not a fundamentalist, a step toward middle-of-the road; I saw him as equivalent to first-generation European immigrants to the US: one foot in the old world and not quite sure how to raise their children, who are being exposed to values and situations they never faced. You can read plot summaries anywhere, so I’ll just concentrate on my reactions. This fine book doesn’t take the easy road of pat answers; many of the characters experience true inner conflict on several issues and both sides of the several issues seem to get fair treatment. The best part for me was gaining some small understanding of the thought process and crescendo of emotions in people (American and Kurd) whose beliefs are so different from mine. It also provides some insight into the effects of the situation in Iraq during Hussein’s rule and the general area, but on a personal level. The writing is straightforward–none of the look at me I’m writing stuff–and the issues are quite accessible. In some ways, it’s a kinder, gentler Kite Runner or Thousand Splendid Suns. Some have compared elements of the story to Romeo and Juliet, which I would have found off-putting. For me, the story was much a culture clash within the families and internal to the various people. But because it’s told in an even-handed way, you get to explore your own feelings through each character. These folks have some tough issues to face and I found it quite moving. It’s the type of book you hate to have end because you won’t spend time with these people any more. This is likely to be an extremely popular AND worthwhile book–lots to discuss when your feelings setlle.

It has been nine years since the deadly Turkish earthquake of 1999, and yet the upheavals described in Gardens of Water echo throughout the news of today. Sinan, a Kurdish refugee shopkeeper working to establish a life in Turkey, fights to keep Turkey’s liberal secular influences from affecting his family. But then the earthquake strikes, and the Turkish influences are joined with even more Western influences in the form of an American family who gives shelter and aid to Sinan and his wife and children. One of those children, his teenaged daughter Irem, has already felt the temptations of the West as personified by Dylan, the American family’s son. Thrown together in a post-earthquake refugee camp, Dylan and Irem test boundaries for both of their families. Irem is forbidden to see Dylan, confined to the family tent. “She was stained with rumors because of a kiss. But it wasn’t a stupid kiss; it was everything; it was what she wanted most, the only thing that made her happy. And the walls of the tent were crowding in and her mother wouldn’t shut up and she thought she would explode. “ Questions of honor arise. . . the honor of women, the honor of Kurds, the honor of Muslims, the honor of good and decent individuals caught up in a chaos beyond their control. The clash of cultures leads to tragedy, though it is a tragedy accompanied by understanding. The resonance of current events comes with the subtle examination of the Turkish-Kurdish conflict, and a more explicit description of the good intentions of American Christians and the road they pave. Sinan’s father fell victim to Turkish oppression, but Sinan must acknowledge that his father provoked the oppressor. The American missionaries provide a rapid response to the disaster, bringing in desperately needed housing, food, and water, but their insistence on proselytizing and conversion brings about suspicion and even retaliation from both devout and militant Muslims in the camps. Author Alan Drew may not have set out to draw parallels, but he does draw all the difficulties faced by all of the characters with balance and care, never preaching, and understanding the conflicts he limns so well results in a deeper understanding of the conflicts we face now. The complexities of the issues are served well by Drew’s talent for storytelling, and his command of language is masterful. Early on, Sinan “watched the streak of black water beyond the rooftops, and the city lights strewn around the bay like a necklace. The tea-black sky floated above him, punctured with only three stars, just three tiny pinpricks. At night in the village there were more stars than night sky, more world out there staring back than there were people in the whole of this city, probably more than there were people in all of the world’s cities. ” The transitions between plot development and thought processes, between exterior event and interior monologues, are seamless, descriptions are lyrical yet never self-conscious or forced. If there were “little darlings,” he either killed them all or wove them in so skillfully that the language is never a distraction from the story but rather lifts it up and carries it along. “Gardens of Water,” with its masterful blending of fiction and historical fact, is one of the finest stories told in recent years.