Sleeping in the Forest: Stories and Poems

by Sait Faik Abasıyanık, Talât Sait Halman (Editor), Jayne L. Warner (Associate Editor)

Sait Faik may well be named "the Turkish Chekhov." In Turkey, critics and readers regard him as their finest short story writer. Since his death in 1954 at the age of forty-eight, his stature has grown on the strength of his narrative art, which is both realistic and whimsical with a poetic touch. Suha Oguzertem, a premier authority on Turkish fiction, writes in his introduction to Sleeping in the Forest that "As an anti-bourgeois writer and fierce democrat, Sait Faik has always sided with the underdog" and that no characters remain " 'common' or 'ordinary' once they enter Sait Faik's stories; his piercing gaze and thoughtful vision transform them lovingly into unique beings."

Sait Faik's fiction ranges from the realistic to the surrealistic, from the romantic to the modern, from the cynical to the compassionate. With virtuosic skill, he captures the spirit and the spleen of the city of Istanbul and its environs. In evoking the mystery of that great metropolis through such ordinary characters as Armenian fishermen, Greek Orthodox priests, and the disillusioned and disfranchised, he creates for us a marvelous microcosm of tragicomedy. Few writers, in Turkey or elsewhere, command Sait Faik's mastery of the ironic.

Sleeping in the Forest features twenty-two stories, an excerpt from a novella, and fifteen poems rendered into English by some of the best-known translators of Turkish literature. Sait Faik's chiaroscuro world is brought into focus by an introductory essay on utopian poetics and lyrical stylistics of this great Turkish writer. The book is a stimulating exploration into Turkish mood and milieu."

Genres: Short Stories, Poetry, Turkish

199 pages, Paperback

First published November 30, 2004

About the author

Sait Faik Abasıyanık (18 November 1906 - 11 May 1954) was one of the greatest Turkish writers of short stories and poetry. Born in Adapazarı, he was educated at the Istanbul Erkek Lisesi. He enrolled in the Turcology Department of Istanbul University in 1928, but under pressure from his father went to Switzerland to study economics in 1930. He left school and lived for three years in Grenoble, France - an experience which made a deep impact on his art and character. After returning to Turkey he taught Turkish in Halıcıoğlu Armenian School for Orphans, and tried to follow his father's wishes and go into business but was unsuccessful. He devoted his life to writing after 1934. He created a brand new language and brought new life to Turkish short story writing with his harsh but humanistic portrayals of labourers, fishermen, children, the unemployed, the poor. A major theme was always the sea and he spent most of his time in Burgaz Ada (one of the Princes' Islands in the Marmara Sea). He was an honorary member of the International Mark Twain Society of St. Louis, Missouri.

Sait Faik mostly published under the name Sait Faik, other pen names being Adalı ("Island dweller"), Sait Faik Adalı, and S. F..

There is an award for his name which is given every year on his death anniversary: Sait Faik Hikâye Armağanı

Reviews

[Elizabeth · Rating 5 out of 5]

A very distinctive voice, with so much spontaneity as to sometimes seem haphazard, and a strong sense of place and community, set among the poorer locals of the islands off of Istanbul. The literary style is almost experimental as it jumps from thought to setting, very informal, yet without appearing contrived; it is very fluid and exuberant. I imagine that these stories were very interesting to translate. The introduction and preface set out the literary and cultural context; the editor states that Sait Faik's stories embody a certain optimism; while I found this sometimes true in the typical sense, I wonder if by "optimistic" he meant, with an honest acceptance of human experience without moral pretension.

[Courtney Kruzan · Rating 1 out of 5]

Was just not my thing at all, guess I'm not a fan of this brand of surrealism. Was not sure if I could even finish it, but I did.