A shy young man leaves his home in rural Turkey to learn a trade in 1920s Berlin. The city's crowded streets, thriving arts scene, passionate politics and seedy cabarets provide the backdrop for a chance meeting with a woman, which will haunt him for the rest of his life. Emotionally powerful, intensely atmospheric and touchingly profound, Madonna in a Fur Coat is an unforgettable novel about new beginnings and the unfathomable nature of the human soul.
****
Madonna in a Fur Coat
Author : Sabahattin Ali
First Published : 1943
Read in English Language
Edition : Kindle (2026)
Translator : Melike Ones
Ages recommendation : 13+
For someone who never reads a book's blurb before picking it up, I, once again, got lost. I genuinely thought Madonna referred to Madonna, the global pop star, rather than Ma Donna, as in a classic painting.
The novel opens with an unemployed man trying to find a job amid economic turmoil in Ankara. Day after day, he spends his time visiting friends, relatives, and colleagues, sometimes looking for a job, a place to stay, or simply a warm meal. Eventually, he lands a job thanks to an old friend, although he has to endure considerable inner humiliation.
He works in a bank, and next to his desk sits a man who looks utterly ordinary. His ordinariness fascinates the narrator because this middle-aged man, namely Raif Efendi, has no friends, never asks questions, and only responds when spoken to. He goes through his daily life without the slightest deviation. Like a robot.
The narrator, whom I consider a man with high emotional intelligence, tries to break through the barrier built by this middle-aged man. Eventually, Raif hands him a notebook containing his deepest thoughts and experiences from his younger years.
The narration then shifts to Raif's younger days. It begins when his father sends him to Berlin to learn about the soap-making business. Instead of learning the trade, Raif discovers that soap-making doesn't pique his interest. He spends his time wandering around Berlin, visiting gardens and galleries, and, most of all, staying in his boarding house and reading.
Until one day, he discovers a painting that draws his entire world towards the woman depicted in it: Madonna in a Fur Coat. Later, he discovers that it is a self-portrait of the painter herself. And yes, as the universe would have it, one coincidental evening, Raif meets the painter and model, Maria.
Interestingly, the novel mentions that the painting resembles Andrea del Sarto's Madonna delle Arpie, depicting the Virgin Mary in a rather regal and commanding presence. I find this reference intriguing, considering Maria Puder's own character. She is hardly the conventional image of a submissive woman. Perhaps there's an interesting contradiction here: a woman first introduced to us through an image of the Madonna turns out to be someone who refuses to be idealised or confined by conventional expectations of womanhood.
Maria is portrayed as the textbook manic pixie dream girl. Smart, independent, and brave, she seems like someone ahead of her time. Ever since meeting her, Raif finds a purpose in his life. His whole life, he has felt like a kite with no particular destination, simply roaming the earth and breathing. Now, for the first time, he feels excitement, longing, and fear. The world no longer seems black and white.
Then, let's talk about my experience reading this book. There is so much to discuss and question, even after finishing it.
First, I read the Kindle version translated by Melike Ones, rather than the more popular Maureen Freely translation. I got it at a 70% discount on Playbook. The translation is odd. Very odd. I even double-checked whether I might have been reading a pirated version because the translator kept using "him" to refer to Maria. For example: "She waited with his back to the staircase wall" (page 168).
This happens not just once, but seemingly every three pages or so. Imagine how disruptive that was to my reading experience. If possible, I would ask for a refund.
Alas, apart from that and the strange paragraph spacing, the English translation was fine.
Now, let's talk about the characterisation.
I like the first narrator, the unemployed gentleman. His retrospective thoughts, combined with his detailed observations of other people's behaviour, remind me of Bret Easton Ellis's writing style. He offers emotional distance and cynical observations, making the reader wholly convinced by his perspective and thoughts.
When the narration shifts to Raif, the reader can feel the stark contrast between their personalities and the ways they see the world. Raif, as melancholic as he is, has a brutal and complex emotional world trapped inside him. He feels deeply, yet keeps everything locked within himself. He enjoys drawing and has a great appreciation for art, but unlike an artist who wants to express himself, he seems reluctant to do so. Eventually, he abandons his hobby, perhaps even his talent.
Raif comes from a wealthy Turkish family. His father owns a factory and can afford to support his rather aimless lifestyle. However, ever since childhood, Raif has been constantly criticised by his father. He is not masculine enough, and most of the important decisions in his life are made by his father. Perhaps that's one of several reasons Raif feels that he has never truly owned his life. He simply goes through the motions while others decide everything for him.
There are several stages in Raif's character development throughout the book: the adult Raif, who works in the bank and looks back on the tragedy that happened ten years earlier through his notebook; the young Raif before Maria Puder enters his life; Raif when he falls in love with Maria; Raif after his father's death; and, finally, the heartbroken Raif.
Then, of course, there is Maria Puder, the Madonna in a fur coat. The 21st-century girl.
There is a paragraph that, for me, perfectly captures Maria's character in the book. It is when Maria talks to Raif and draws a line regarding their relationship:
Human relations, especially between men and women, are so complex, our desires and feelings so obscure and blurred that no one knows what they're doing and is swept away by the current. I don't want that. Doing things that don't satisfy me one hundred percent, that don't seem completely necessary to me, diminishes me in my own eyes... One thing I especially can't stand is the woman always being forced to remain passive in the face of men...Why? Why do we always run away and you pursue? Why do we always surrender and you receive? Why do we always submit and you receive? Why do you always feel a sense of domination even in your pleas, a sense of dominance in our refusals? Even a woman is considered helpless? I've rebelled against this since childhood; I've never been able to accept it." -pages 156-157.
Mind you, this book was written by a male author in the 1940s. Yet he manages to capture the rebellious spirit of a woman and embody it in Maria Puder.
Right at that moment, I liked Maria even more. Hats off to the author.
So yes, Maria's character is the complete opposite of Raif Efendi. Maria is someone who takes the initiative, rebels against the conventional destiny of women, and expresses herself freely. Meanwhile, Raif is passive, accepts life as it is, and refuses to express his feelings.
Perhaps that's the reason Raif turns his whole world upside down to pursue Maria. The attraction of opposites, like a magnetic force, for Raif. But no, we will never really know. We can only guess, because adult Raif never gives us a detailed account of why he fell so madly in love with this woman.
And that brings us to the part I find unconvincing.
I feel that Raif is more focused on his obsession than on Maria as a person in her own right. In other words, I strongly suspect that Raif loves the version of himself that emerges when he falls in love with Maria.
I assume that if someone truly loves a woman, he will endlessly discover her inner and outer beauty. At the very least, he would take an interest in her passion for painting. But no. As readers, we don't grasp much about Maria beyond her role as the object of Raif's obsession.
Again, since we only see things through adult Raif's perspective, there are limitations to our understanding of the magnetic force between them.
This, in turn, challenges the idea that Maria is simply a manic pixie dream girl. We never get a full picture of her personality, either.
Perhaps the most fascinating aspect of this novel is its narrative imbalance. We are given almost unrestricted access to Raif's emotional world, yet Maria remains largely inaccessible to us. We know how deeply he suffers, but we can only speculate about what Maria experienced. In a way, the novel makes us experience the very thing I criticise Raif for: becoming so absorbed in his feelings that we barely see the other person. Perhaps this is why I find it difficult to call this a great love story. It might be a much greater story about loneliness, emotional dependency, and the human tendency to turn another person into the centre of our existence.
And I have mixed feelings about Raif. I pity him deeply, especially the adult Raif. But beyond that, he makes me angry.
How can someone have so little ownership over his own life? He lets some random girl become the driving force of his existence, only to shut everything down when she leaves. And then he puts all the blame on her.
Excuse me, Raif. Your suffering, your longing, and your biggest "what if" and sense of guilt are rooted in your own passiveness and reluctance to take ownership of your life. Yes, there is fate, there is tragic fate, but at least show some effort. Not an entire book of longing and regrets.
And when the universe gives you another chance to reconnect with the person you lost, what do you do? You simply say you'll keep her in your thoughts. Wow! Who are you? A spinach? You are as passive as a vegetable.
Excuse me, if I allowed myself, I could write an entire book complaining about Raif and making Maria the protagonist instead. So I'll end it here. Hahaha.
But perhaps this is because I am a grown woman. Maybe if I had read this in my twenties, I would have felt differently. The older we get, the more we realise that some tragedies are also consequences of our own decisions.
To sum up, I understand why this book is so popular and remains relevant even today. It captures melancholy and offers a beautiful definition of love: the desperation of longing for someone. Yes, it is worth the hype. And, of course, it is a beautiful book. I don't have the slightest complaint about the novel itself.
The fact that it still triggers something in me days after finishing it tells me that the book has had a multilayered effect on me. I think that's also what makes a book great.
So, don't let my complaints about Raif discourage you from reading it. It's simply a matter of personal preference. And yes, I do understand why Raif acts the way he does.
This book has also fascinated me in another way: a novel can tell us everything about a character's feelings while leaving us questioning what those feelings actually mean.
Comments
Post a Comment