“The fact that she gave me the shop sign that had once hung on the door as well as any other object connected to Füsun without once questioning the reasons for my excessive interest in the since-shuttered establishment led me to understand that some of the odder details of our story were known to her, and indeed had had a much wider circulation than I had assumed.”

This passage contains the first reference to the museum collection that appears as a motif for Objects as a Representation of a Lost Past. Kemal makes an aside that breaks away from the present reality of the narrative to show himself revisiting Füsun’s employer in the aftermath of the romance. Kemal alludes to the “odder” details of the story, suggesting that some perceive the narrative’s unconventional nature. Kemal’s role as an unreliable narrator underscores the illusory quality of his nostalgia.

“Believing myself a decent and responsible person, I had every intention of marrying her; but even if this hadn’t been my wish, there was no question of my having a choice now that she had ‘given me her virginity.’”

This passage introduces one of the novel’s major themes, Modesty as a Tool of Repression. Kemal glosses over the social dynamics that would have required him to marry Sibel as a consequence of their premarital sexual relations. The placement of “given me her virginity” in quotes suggests his incredulity over the concept of virginity and its traditional link to marriage. The passage speaks to the strict sexual mores in Istanbul’s elite circles in the novel, where a woman is judged for having sex unless she marries the man she sleeps with. By contrast, the male characters have much more sexual freedom.

“If we love someone very much, we know that even if we give him the most valuable thing we have, we know not to expect harm from him. This is what a sacrifice is.”

In this passage, Kemal offers an interpretation of the scriptural story of Abraham, which has thematic relevance in the story of his romance with Füsun. This interpretation drives the idea that love is predicated on trust in one’s ability to save the other from harm. This criterion becomes especially important in assessing whether Kemal really loves Füsun throughout the novel or whether his obsession with her is merely self-serving.

“But this is something you’ve given me to replace my earring…If you hadn’t lost the one I left behind, you would never have brought me these. I have no way of knowing what you really did with it, if you actually lost it.”

When Füsun scolds Kemal over the gift of the pearl earrings, she cements her lost earring as one of the novel’s key symbols. Füsun’s indignation suggests that she wants Kemal to value her belongings as irreplaceable objects, implying that he also sees her as someone irreplaceable. By trying to replace her lost earring, Kemal implies that he doesn’t take her wants and needs seriously, making the lost earring an important sign of his devotion to her.

“For me, it’s not in the least important whether something is or isn’t a European product. And it’s not in the least important to me either if a thing is genuine or fake. If you ask me, people’s dislike of imitations has nothing to do with fake or real, but the fear that others might think they’d ‘bought it cheap.’ For me, the worst thing is when people care about the brand and not the thing itself.”

Füsun’s discourse on imitation products is meant as a veiled criticism of Sibel. She tries to establish her superiority over Kemal’s fiancée by presenting herself as someone who likes Kemal for his own sake, not because of his status and the privilege it affords her. She is implying that by contrast, Sibel only wants Kemal for his status.

“One palliative for this new wave of pain, I discovered, was to seize upon an object of our common memories that bore her essence; to put it into my mouth and taste it brought some relief.”

In this passage, Kemal starts to use the objects that will later form his museum collection to alleviate the pain of Füsun’s absence, invoking Objects as a Representation of a Lost Past. Kemal’s willingness to taste the objects to relieve his longing for Füsun underscores the erotic nature of his desire for her, but his fetishization of objects also mirrors the way he objectifies Füsun herself.

“Suffering like a trapped animal, I became aware that I would only feel better if I could just see Füsun once. To the world I was indifferent, because by now everything was so futile, so very vulgar.”

This passage reflects The Devastating Impact of Obsession, showing the transformative effect that Kemal’s obsession has on his relationship with the world. The simile comparing Kemal to a “trapped animal,” which clashes against the reality of his life as a privileged bachelor, resonates with the upending of his attitude to the world, which he now sees as an inconvenience that only Füsun’s presence can resolve.

“‘This thing you thought was love—it was just a passing obsession,’ she said. ‘I’ll look after you. I’ll rescue you from this nonsense you got mixed up in.’”

Sibel’s resolution to help Kemal is a sign of her devotion to him and her willingness to salvage their relationship. Sibel frames Kemal’s affair as a small piece of trouble, from which he needs to be “rescued.” By downplaying the impact of Kemal’s obsession on his psyche, she exposes her unawareness of how serious his obsession has become.

“‘The art of love is in finding a balance of equals,’ Sibel said. ‘As there is with you and me. Have you ever seen a rich girl fall in love with Ahmet Efendi the janitor, or Hasan Usta, the construction worker, just for his good looks? Outside Turkish films, I mean.’”

Sibel’s judgment of Füsun reflects her judgment of the working class, as she suggests it isn’t acceptable for Kemal to pursue Füsun since she is a working-class woman. Her rhetorical question is undercut by the qualification that interclass romances happen all the time in cinema, but only to stress the unreal nature of such relationships.

“For the hopelessly in love, the pain can be triggered by anything, whether as profound as the death of a father or as mundane as a piece of bad luck, like losing a key; such elemental pain can be flamed by any sort of spark. People whose lives have, like mine, been turned upside down by love can become convinced that all other problems will be resolved once the pain of love is gone, but in ignoring these problems they only allow them to fester.”

In the aftermath of Mümtaz’s death, Kemal depends on the relief of Füsun’s presence to help him process his grief. Key to this passage is the equivocation of profound and mundane pain, which are homogenized through the reliance on love to resolve that pain. This shows how Kemal would rather escape to pleasure and satisfaction than deal with the new reality of his father’s absence.

“That night my mind was fixed on one fantasy: the film premiere, and Füsun holding the microphone, speaking to the admiring audience at the Palace Cinema—or was the New Angel Cinema a better choice?—thanking me first and foremost. When I came on stage, those attuned to the latest gossip would whisper that during the filming the young star had fallen in love with the producer and left her husband. The photograph of Füsun kissing me on the cheek would appear in all the newspapers.”

Kemal’s fantasy of Füsun in her future film career reveals his true priorities in supporting her. Rather than desiring success for Füsun’s sake, Kemal’s vision ends with himself as the pillar of Füsun’s success, leaving her indebted to him to the point that he possesses her. He cannot pursue her happiness in life without imagining his own first, reflecting The Devastating Impact of Obsession.

“It was not long before it occurred to me that if her dream came true and she became a star, she would take to abusing not just me but Feridun, too, possibly even leaving us both […] If Füsun became a famous film star, it would only magnify my love for her, and with it my fear of losing her.”

When Kemal realizes that he and Feridun have shared interests in delaying Füsun’s career, Kemal tries to leverage their relationships to actively prevent Füsun from achieving success. This perverts his definition of love, which turns away from seeking the good of the beloved and preventing them from coming to harm, to prioritizing exclusive possession of the beloved.

“After all, isn’t the purpose of the novel, or of a museum, for that matter, to relate our memories with such sincerity as to transform individual happiness into a happiness all can share?”

Kemal’s suggestion that novels and museums “relate our memories with such sincerity” that they can turn individual experiences of happiness into communal ones reflects his determination to control his narrative and how it is interpreted by others. His equation of a novel with a museum avoids confronting how museum exhibits are actually carefully curated, not simply “sincere” or unfiltered, and that they can invoke many emotions besides happiness. Kemal is unwilling to consider how he, too, might be curating his memories and selectively representing them.

“Here I was, living in a poor country, yet lucky enough to have been born into a wealthy family; offered such opportunity as God offers so few in this corner of the world—an honest, civilized, and happy life—and I had idiotically thrown it all away! I knew that the only way out of this predicament was to marry Füsun, put my business affairs in order, make my fortune, and then return, victorious, into society, but by now I could not find the strength to realize this plan, and indeed I’d come to hate that tiny set into which I might seek readmittance.”

Kemal only feels the impulse to save his reputation once the unsavory elements of his affair with Füsun have become public knowledge. This passage marks one of the rare times when Kemal admits that he has put himself in a bad situation by following his heart, yet he ironically continues to view marriage to Füsun as the only solution to his problem.

“I may not have ‘won’ the woman I loved so obsessively, but it cheered me to have broken off a piece of her, however small.

To speak of ‘breaking off’ a piece of someone is of course to imply that the piece is part of the worshipped beloved’s body.”

In this passage, Kemal compares Füsun to a sculpture, extending the metaphor to apply to the objects that evoke her essence. By viewing the possession of these sculpture fragments as a victory, Kemal articulates his perception of Füsun as an object to be conquered, rather than as a willing participant in his romantic life. This underscores Objects as a Representation of a Lost Past by turning his mementos of Füsun into trophies.

“Six years after falling in love with Füsun, I was no longer someone who thought of life as a pleasurable adventure, indeterminately full of possibility: I was on the verge of becoming a sad and dejected man. I was slowly being overtaken by the fear of having no future.”

The Devastating Impact of Obsession also affects Kemal, with this passage exposing the attrition that his obsession has had on his self-perception. The contrast between his youthful adventurous self and his present “sad and dejected” self underscores how much time Kemal has devoted to the quest of “conquering” Füsun. Kemal has squandered his youth for her.

“‘Will she be presentable? Will she know how to act?’

‘Why wouldn’t she? She’s an actress, a star, in fact.’

‘Well, that’s what I mean…You know how those Turkish film types carry on, the poor ones who play rich people. We can’t have that sort of thing, can we?’”

Zaim’s doubt over the “presentability” of Papatya exposes his biased assumption of people in the film industry, which extends to Füsun and speaks to Modesty as a Tool of Repression of women. When he tries to get Kemal to see that it is unacceptable for them to associate with “poor ones who play rich people,” his criticism irritates Kemal by reminding him of class differences. Zaim’s allusions to “how those Turkish film types carry on” also invoke the rumors of actresses moonlighting as porn stars, once more calling Papatya’s “modesty” into question.

“At the end of the day, what other people say has no importance whatsoever. Of course, what’s important is the truth, the honesty of our feelings. I have no complaints about that, my son. You fell in love with a woman…And that’s wonderful, my son. I can’t complain about that. But has she ever loved you? What has she done over the past eight years? Why has she still not left her husband?”

Vecihe’s advice to Kemal is meant to awaken him to the reality of his relationship with Füsun before he crosses the final threshold of marrying her. Rather than lean into the arguments of reputation, as Sibel and Zaim have done, Vecihe urges Kemal to consider what Füsun has done to show her sincere devotion to him, which transcends mere affection and sexual indulgence.

“‘Still, I’m impressed by what she’s done,’ she continued. ‘She put her mind to something, and she refused to give up, and she succeeded, just like a character in an American film. If I regret anything, it’s not having failed to become a successful actress like Papatya; it’s having failed to fight for what I wanted in life, and for that I have only myself to blame.’”

In this passage, Füsun articulates the envy she feels for Papatya, who has gone to live out the life she wanted while carrying on the unsavory reputation of being her husband’s mistress. Though she claims responsibility for this failure, Füsun is hinting at the unspoken truth of Kemal’s empty promises to make her a film star, which depended exclusively on his work as her producer.

“Once the car had crossed the limits of Istanbul, all the suffering I’d endured for the love of Füsun was suddenly reduced to a sweet story that could be told in one breath. After all, a love story that ends happily scarcely deserves more than a few sentences!”

In this passage, Kemal preemptively declares the resolution of the conflict, which foreshadows the imminent event that will mark the tragedy of his romance with Füsun. The last sentence in the passage underscores this by blankly stating that a happier story would not have required as much context and set-up to lead the reader to its conclusion.

“Last night you tricked me. You robbed me of my greatest treasure without benefit of marriage. You took possession of me. And people like you never marry what they’ve already had. That’s the kind of person you are.”

Füsun’s criticism of Kemal directly expresses her anger over being treated as the object of his pleasure for many years, effectively derailing her life. She expresses this in terms of her “virginity,” which she alludes to when she speaks of Kemal not wanting to marry her now that he has already taken that “treasure” away—a sexual double standard that speaks to Modesty as a Tool of Repression of women. However, the “treasure” could just as easily refer to many other things she’s lost as a result of their affair, including her youth, her time, and her potential.

“Füsun knew she was about to die, and during those two or three seconds she told me with her pleading eyes that she didn’t really want to, that she would cling to life as long as she could, hoping for me to save her. But I could only smile at my beautiful fiancée, still so full of vitality, the love of my life to the last, and believing I was about to die as well, I felt glad of being under way to a different world.”

The very last moment of Füsun’s life encapsulates her dynamic with Kemal. Füsun’s reliance on Kemal to save her resonates with the Abrahamic definition of love as ensuring that the beloved does not come to harm. Rather than see the potential of Füsun’s future, Kemal embraces the idea that his life is over and that Füsun should die with him, underscoring his possessive view of her and his inability to generally care for her. Kemal’s selfishness at this moment reflects The Devastating Impact of Obsession, as even when dying, Füsun is not allowed to need anything from Kemal in particular.

“‘I’m not asking what you’re going to do with them. What I’m asking is, why do you want these things?’

He was giving expression to the understanding that anyone obsessed with collecting objects and storing them away must be in the grip of heartbreak, deep distress, or some ineffable psychological wound.”

Kemal finds consolation in the understanding of other collectors, who are revealed to hoard their mementos for similar reasons. The passage invokes Objects as a Representation of a Lost Past, as Kemal and the collector regard objects as representing more than just material pieces—instead, they invoke or soothe deep feelings.