More of a catalogue of the goings on in an evolving squatter camp on a mountain of garbage somewhere in Turkey. My first and probably last Turkish novel this was not a character study. But the thin stories that were told did show growth and community in what are difficult urban circumstances. ( )

I walked into a bookstore in Istanbul on my first day there and asked Mr Bookseller about good Turkish authors, other than Pamuk that I saw his fingers reaching for immediately. This is one of the books he said was his favorite (the other was The Bastard of Istanbul by Elif Shafak). It was ok. It is not my favorite. Pamuk is still my Turkish god… so sorry Mr Bookseller. (Regardless of his Armenian Genocide comment, it doesn’t diminish his ability to write great novels). Berji Kristen is not a great book, but definitely an interesting read about a culture and life not normally given much attention. It’s a book of tales loosely connected about the squatters living on the garbage heaps on the outskirts of Istanbul. Some parts read like poetry and Ms Latife almost made me yearn for the life of Flower Hill, the name of the first squatter neighborhood set up in the dumps. Life was hard for these people, but their love of rumor, song, and shiny things seem to have got them through the harsh living environment. The makeshift factories that set up on garbage hill gave them artificial weather; white snow shooting out of the stacks would drift down on them, warm blue water sprang forth from the flushing pipes, and acrid fumes from the blossoming exhausts brought tears to their eyes.

Not a funny book. Not particular touching in any way. But, it was entertaining and different and talked about shiny things in the garbage. ( )