The Dervish House [Englisch] [Taschenbuch]

When I gave Guy Gavriel Kay's Under Heaven its perfect score a few weeks back, I was persuaded that no other speculative fiction work could possibly even come close to it in terms of quality. And yet, I knew full well that the ARC for Ian McDonald's The Dervish House was sitting on my desk, practically begging me to read it. And still I believed that Kay's latest would reign supreme as the best SFF book of 2010 -- at least in this house. The more fool me, I know. . .

Considering how much I loved River of Gods, Brasyl, and Cyberabad Days, I'm aware that I should have waited a bit longer before granting Under Heaven its crown. After all, every McDonald title I've read since the creation of the Hotlist ended up in my top reads of that year. Call it Canadian patriotism or whatever you like, but I really wanted Guy Gavriel Kay to finish in pole position at the end of 2010. Unfortunately, Ian McDonald had another think coming for me.

The Dervish House is without a doubt his best and most accessible science fiction novel to date. And to put it simply, it just blew my mind. Believe me, I did try to find some shortcomings and facets that left a little to be desired. All to no avail, of course. The Dervish House is about as good as it gets, folks. McDonald's past novels had already set the bar rather high, no question. But this one, at least for me, is as close to perfection as a book can get.

Here's the blurb:

It begins with an explosion. Another day, another bus bomb. Everyone it seems is after a piece of Turkey. But the shock waves from this random act of twenty-first-century pandemic terrorism will ripple further and resonate louder than just Enginsoy Square.

Welcome to the world of The Dervish House--the great, ancient, paradoxical city of Istanbul, divided like a human brain, in the great, ancient, equally paradoxical nation of Turkey. The year is 2027 and Turkey is about to celebrate the fifth anniversary of its accession to the European Union, a Europe that now runs from the Arran Islands to Ararat. Population pushing one hundred million, Istanbul swollen to fifteen million, Turkey is the largest, most populous, and most diverse nation in the EU, but also one of the poorest and most socially divided. It's a boom economy, the sweatshop of Europe, the bazaar of central Asia, the key to the immense gas wealth of Russia and central Asia. The Dervish House is seven days, six characters, three interconnected story strands, one central common core--the eponymous dervish house, a character in itself--that pins all these players together in a weave of intrigue, conflict, drama, and a ticking clock of a thriller.

Previous novels by McDonald took some time to get into, as the author used the early part of each of his work to build the groundwork for what was to come. Uncharacteristically, in The Dervish House McDonald's tale grabs hold of you from the get-go and won't let go till you reach the very end. I wasn't expecting the novel to make such a powerful impression right from the very first pages. But as soon as that woman detonates herself inside Tram 157 near Necatibey Cadessi, any hope I had of ever being able to put down this book evaporated immediately.

Seemingly effortlessly (don't know how he manages to do it, but McDonald's always makes this look easy), the author captured the essence of 21st century Turkey on countless levels. His evocative prose brings Istanbul to life in vivid fashion. His undeniable eye for details creates an imagery and an atmosphere that will delight and impress readers in myriad ways. As is the author's wont, the worldbuilding is superb. His depiction of a futuristic Turkey now part of the EU is even more memorable than his thrilling depictions of India and Brazil were. Whether its the country's political and social psyche, or mundane details such as what people are having for breakfast, McDonald's narrative makes you feel as though you're part of the action.

The Dervish House is not split into usual chapters. Instead, the story takes place during seven days, beginning with that fateful terrorist bus bombing. The tale unfolds through the eyes of six disparate characters, with the dervish house connecting these various plotlines together. I felt at first that the contrasting personalities would perhaps create a somewhat discordant whole, but Ian McDonald makes them all come together in a surprising manner. As was the case with River of Gods, when the multilayered storylines converge, the author's genius and his gift for well-crafted characterization shine through.

Though every character has his or her part to play in the overall story arc, Necdet, who was staring at the woman on the tram when she blew herself up, could be what one might consider the central character. Yet that's not entirely true, as the rest of the cast, even if they do so sometimes indirectly, plays as important a role in the greater scheme of things. The boy Can Durukan is particularly well-realized, and his relationship with Georgios Ferentinou showed that the author possesses a deft human touch. Still, Ayse Erkoç was, for me, probably the most interesting of the bunch. Another great aspect of The Dervish House is that every single character has a backstory, making them all three-dimensional protagonists. Hence, although the novel is a thought-provoking work of science fiction, it is nevertheless a character-driven read.

The pace, even though it is never a factor, is not always crisp. The narrative slows down considerably in the POV portions of both Adnan Sarioglu and Leyla Gültasli. And yet, when McDonald's reveals the true importance of each plotline and how it's connected to the overall story arc, that's when things get really interesting!

Perhaps because fundamentalist islamic terrorists and the emergence of Turkey and its possible accession to the European Union have made the news quite often these last few years, many of the themes found within the pages of The Dervish House feel more actual and better known and understood than those of McDonald's previous novels. Which is why I feel that The Dervish House, while showcasing Ian McDonald at his very best in terms of thought-provoking storytelling skills, just might be his most accessible work to date.

The Dervish House deserves the highest possible recommendation. If you only have money to buy a single scifi novel this year, this has to be it.

In this one book there's a hunt for a mummy, a dodgy gas deal, terrorists hoping to employ nano-technology, soccer, and a child detective. And a real-estate deal. And... There's a lot going on, all of it draped over the luscious stage that is Istanbul.

I really don't want to give it all away, so I'll say little more. Suffice it that all these threads get woven together to tell a really great story.

If you've been to Istanbul, that's a bonus, as you'll be able to picture the streets and neighborhoods. Also, you'll fully grok how it's perfectly possible for Istanbul to have an underground world that's barely known, and in which historical artifacts just get lost. You may even find yourself wanting to buy an antique Istanbul house, just so you can clear it to its original beautiful architecture.

Dear Lord, the more I think of it, what a great book. He's got the history of a place like Istanbul down pat, and can project forward to a new generation of "Young Turks". This is just brilliantly well done. The more I reflect on it, the more I love this book. I'll be re-reading it for years. So, thanks, Ian McDonald. Actually, more like "Go raibh maith agat".

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The weather is an actor in this book, just as in Kurosawa's "Stray Dog".

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This is the second book I've read by the author ("Brasyl", previously). The man knows his "Gaeilge" (Irish), and he's obviously been to Rio de Janeiro and Istanbul - two of my favorite cities. I feel like we're living parallel lives, but while I'm only taking pictures, he's writing great books.

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Something else that occurs: I think the EU's rejection of Turkey, along with growing Islamist sentiment in Turkey itself, is likely to keep this book mostly a work of fiction, Apart from ongoing ethnic cleansing (see <[...]), the rise of neighborhood shaykhs and more neighborhood shariat law, I suppose. Pity that.

"The Dervish House" is a book about many things. It is a book about technology and the way that it can change a society. It is about religious belief. But more than anything, it is a book about Istanbul, and the deep connection that its inhabitants share with it.

The book follows several different characters along several different plotlines. In the beginning, the only thing they have in common is the setting: an old building, the titular Dervish House, where most of the characters work or live. The connection between these different plotlines is almost nonexistent until 3/4 of the way through the book, but it never feels as if the novel is unfocused. The characters are sufficiently engaging that their stories are a pleasure to read, even if the reader spends a long time wondering the reason these characters are important.

The science fiction elements of the story are well written and thought provoking. The future Istanbul that the author has concocted for this novel is fleshed-out, and the science fictional elements are presented realistically. New forms of technology are presented, yes, but the real-life implications of their implementation are just as important as their scientific justification, something many author fail to see, and in this sense the author does not disappoint. The Istanbul of "The Dervish House" feels feasible and real because the way the future affects Istanbul is specific to that city.

However, inspired though the science fiction may be, the most important part of this novel is the way it recalls the Istanbul of the past. Istanbul is an old city, and it pulses with ancient wisdom and culture. The author has dutifully (and marvelously) captured the essence of this city in his novel. The citizens of Istanbul don't just live there; they are deeply connected to its every nook and cranny. One of the characters states that she would evaporate outside of Istanbul, and this can be taken as the mantra of most of the characters in the book. They need Istanbul almost as much as Istanbul needs them. The city is alive, and the characters are alive for being there. They ache for Istanbul, and by the end of the book, the reader does to.

In fact, this feeling of yearning is so pervasive that at some points, the science fiction elements disappear altogether, or at least fade into the background. The author could remove them and still have a great, robust story to tell. This isn't to say that the sci-fi elements are bad (they're not), but this serves as a testament to the fact that the novel's setting, a character in and of itself, is well put together.

This book is highly recommended, even to people who normally don't read Science Fiction. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to start looking up flights to Turkey,,,