Honour (2012)

There are several great things I love about Turkish writer Elif Shafek’s book Honour – the fascinating locations, the warm and passionate characters, and the various twists and turns that take you back and forth in time, place and memory.

At the heart of the story is an honour killing – a mother killed by a son, and a sister trying to come to terms with the brother who committed this heinous crime. Now, he is getting out of prison and she has to welcome him into her home. It’s a delicate situation, fraught with simmering emotions that remain unexpressed and repressive social values that need to be unpacked and confronted.

Running behind this narrative is the story of Pembe, the mother, and her twin sister Jamila. Their lives and what becomes of them are defined to a great extent by the socio-cultural ties that bind them to their communities. This is not to say they are constantly downtrodden – they are strong women with a clear sense of independence and a place in society and when they want things to happen, they know how to get them done. But centuries of expectations placed on one’s head cannot be overridden so easily.

© Penguin Books UK (2012)

Shafek brings these two narratives into a heart stopping and tragic climax, but the story doesn’t end there. Honour opens up questions about migrants and the social codes they bring with them to host countries. The practices and beliefs that held communities together in their birth country seem to evaporate in significance when thrust into the heart of another culture and its social norms.

There is also the question of the adaptability of the second generation – whether one can find an identifiable place, which sits between the history you inherit and the world of your everyday life. It is, in a word, difficult.  Is it possible to straddle both tradition and modernity, and rise above cultural constructs? Or does one die trying?

Male violence, both physical and psychological, runs through the story like a strong undercurrent, changing the course of everyone’s lives. It appears inextricably linked to male identity and populist notions of masculinity. Caught in economic hardship and trying to carve out a life without the communal ties that would have provided validation, it appears as if personal choice can only veer towards an extreme – much to the tragedy of all involved.

Honour is written beautifully – it’s simple, fluid and without rancour. It’s tender in its treatment of heroes and villains alike. Above all, it’s about family and those ties that bind.

•    Buy the book today
•    Listen to Shafek talk about the politics of fiction at TEDGlobal 2010
•    Read a Q&A on Honour with Shafek from Penguin