Three Daughters of Eve

by Elif Shafak

Peri’s mind raced as she attempted to deconstruct the intonation of this apparently simple remark. She had come to learn that the English had an indirect way of expressing their opinions. Unlike the Turks, they did not communicate resentment through resentment or anger through double anger. No, there were layers to their conversation; the deepest discomfort could be conveyed with a reticent smile. They complimented when, in truth, they wished to denounce; they clothed their criticisms in cryptic praise. If I gave a bad performance on stage, Peri thought to herself, in Turkey, they’d pelt me with twigs of prickly holly; in England, I imagine it’d be with roses – confident that I’d get the message from the thorns. Totally different styles. In the meantime, Dr Raymond