Set in Turkish-occupied Kurdistan, Sertac, a vehement atheist, teaches theology classes at an Islamic school as he attempts to complete the stories he starts writing. As his frustrations mount, his marriage falls apart, fully untethering him from reality as he navigates through a throng of eclectic, larger-than-life characters attempting to inject levity into the madness that haunts Sertac. The Competition of Unfinished Stories is a strange and powerful novel on the schizophrenia and emasculation of life under colonial occupation that shows us how imagination can be more paralyzing than liberating.
The Competition of Unfinished Stories is Nicholas Glastonbury's translation from Kurdish of a novel by the writer and artist Şener Ozmen, the first of the latter's works to appear in English.
It is the latest book from the, highly recommended, Asymptote Book Club, "dedicated to world literature in translation that partners with top independent publishers on both sides of the Atlantic" - this book from Sandorf Passage.
“Sandorf Passage is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit that publishes work that creates a prismatic perspective on what it means to live in a globalized world. It is a home to writing inspired by both conflict zones and the dangers of complacency.”
The book club's introduction/review to the book can be found here.
And actually the best way for me to review the novel is to point you to that piece. This is a fascinating, highly creative and meta-fictional work, centred around the figure of Sertac Karan, an atheist Kurd teaching in a religious school in Turkish-occupied Kurdistan. The erasure of the identity of his people and country by the authorities causes him to lose his sense of meaning, other than in a series of fantastical stories he tells about himself, and indeed others tell about him.
It was excitement that Sertac Karan aka Gone-bust Sertac felt. He sat down in his black leather chair, and, filled with the inspiration that so rarely struck, he picked up his pen and wrote a single word in the middle of a sheet of paper, which was the exact moment he realized he would never, never, never finish his story. He finally realized that this life of his, this life devoid of any meaning at all, only emerged as the outcome of these unfinished stories he never, absolutely never, ever, experienced himself-he was the product of one of those unfinished stories. He babbled to himself. "No. No, I'm not going to concern myself with the cause. I'm not going to let myself be dragged down by the things ruining my life. Nor am I going to blame anyone either. Not because I'm oppressed and these tribulations befall me and make me ramble on like this, no.
My gratitude to the translator and publisher for allowing English-speaking readers like me to access this work, and for the Asymptote Book Club for including it in their ever-interesting monthly selections.