Honor

by Elif Shafak

Deserted places that once teemed with life had a kind of sadness, a ghost grief, which floated in the breeze, seeping into every crevice. Perhaps that was why, after a while, the people of derelict landscapes resembled the places themselves: silent, subdued and sullen. But that was what lay on the surface, and with people, as with the earth, the surface was rarely the same as the core.

She was good with words. But also because, deep in my heart, I knew she was the only one in our family who was enough of an insider to get the picture and enough of an outsider to fall out of the picture. I liked that – until the autumn of 1978. Something

She liked to say such things – insinuations as sharp as broken glass. Her bitterness was an inseparable

your child was an extension of yourself. He gave you pride, and a sense of achievement and rootedness, until you came to realize, little by little, that a child was a being of his own making. He would keep to his own destiny, no matter how much you wished, prompted or forced him to follow in your footsteps. The moment Adem grasped this truth he

A flicker of interest flashed in his eyes, like a spark that leaped from burning coals.