Barbara Nadel: The Ottoman Cage
I got the recommendation for this book from Little Diamond; we have a long family tradition of trading books back and forth, my sisters, our children, even my mother; we are all sending books and exchanging suggestions all the time. I know I can count on Little Diamond and Sparkle for particularly good recommendations, and they never disappoint me.

When The Ottoman Cage arrived, I was put off by the cover. “Who’s Likely to Like This?” the cover asked – it seemed like screaming to me – “Fans of Donna Leon and exotic, atmospheric locales”
Remember, I am in a dark time, taxes, turbulence, destabilization. . . I am easily disgruntled when I am vulnerable like this. I don’t want to think I am so predictable. I love reading Donna Leon! So I am predisposed (grumble grumble grumble) NOT to like Barbara Nadel.
I fail miserably. The first five pages I am resisting. By the sixth page, I am ready to stay up all night to read this book (I don’t really, but I did finding myself making more time to read so I could find out what happens next.)
It is like the Donna Leon series in that while the plot is original and interesting, the real focus is on the police inspector, his crew, the relationships with friends and characters, the bureaucracy, and the way systems and institutions function in modern day Turkey.
One particular relationship was of great interest to me, that of Suleyman, who dutifully married his first cousin. They both tried very hard to make it work, but when we meet him, we discover that the marriage has become a painfully dry and desolate place, where each lead their individual lives, with very little of the relationship together.
Another character is detective Cohen, a rare Jew in the police force described as follows:
When one has been known and admired as a prolific womanizer for most of one’s adult life, any change in that situation can come rather hard. Although Cohen had been married since the age of nineteen, he had never let that fact or indeed his rather short stature and dishevelled apearance hold him back from the most ardent pursuit of other women. Jokey charm, of which he possessed copious amounts, had always seen him through. The knowledge that women love a man who can make them laugh had successfully taken him to many bedrooms and had, quite frequently, resulted in his being asked back again. Until this year.
Whether it was because now he was on the ‘wrong’ sied of forty five or just a patch of ill fortune, Cohen didn’t know but the fact was beyond dispute. Women, it seemed, didn’t want him any more. The rbuffs and even in one notable case the cruel sound of mocking laughter were hideously painful for him to bear. Even his long-suffering wife, who had for so many years pleaded with him to leave other women alone and attend to her, had lost interest. He’d tried to find a little comfort in her arms the previous night when he found that he couldn’t sleep, but she, like all the lithe little girls that he still so desired, had just sent him on his way, back to his customary couch, flinging her curses in his unfaithful wake.
It was, Cohen would have been the first to admit, his own fault. Had he bothered to try and be faithful to Estelle he would now, in his middle years, have both a friend and a over with whom he could take comfort as the lines overwhelmed his face and the loose skin around his middle began to sag. His wife was, after all, ageing like himself and, unlike the pretty little tarts he hankered after, unable to point mocking fingers at his inadequacies.
The plot hinges on a dead boy, a beautiful boy, found dead, alone, on a bed in an empty, tasteful but unlived in home. Who is he? Why is he here? Why is he dead?
We meet the gossipy neighbors, we meet the Armenian community, we meet some of the lowest characters you would ever hope to meet, the kind the police deal with every single day. Nothing is simple, one single clue leads slowly, painfully to another. I give credit to Nadel; she relies on good honest police work, chasing down the clues, going through the stacks of old files, interviewing unsavory lowlifes; the things good police really do to solve their cases.
More than the plot, I loved the rich and intricate textures of this mystery novel, I loved the descriptions of the interiors and the interior lives of the characters. Nadel has that in common with the other writers I read serially – Leon, Pattison, Qiu Xiaolon, James Burke and Peter Bowen. It is another rich entry into the genre of the “mystery novel set in exotic, atmospheric locations.”
Definitely worth a read!
In Xanadu: A Quest by William Dalrymple
This book was on my (huge) “Read Me” stack, and I picked it up for a change of pace. As I started reading, I wondered “how did this get there?” My first instinct was it was a recommendation from Little Diamond. As I was reading, however, I came across a segment that was what our priest had read in church around the Feast of the Epiphany about the birthplace of the wise men who came seeking the Christ Child after his birth. I wrote down the title and ordered it from amazon.com (which has some copies used from 72 cents).

William Dalrymple wrote this book when he was a mere 22 years old. He and a travelling companion took off to trace Marco Polo’s journey from Jerusalem to Xanadu, where he was taking oil from the sanctuary lamp to Kubla Khan.
In a world where we have all been taught to be so careful, they take incredible risks. They travel on the cheap – staying in fleabag hotels, sometimes sleeping “rough”, i.e. out in the open. They travel any way they can – an occasional train, but more often a truck, a bus, whatever is going their way. One very long segment they travelled on top of a pile of coal.
They travel from Jerusalem up through Syria and into Turkey, then turn east and cross Iran, Pakistan and Afghanistan to China. They have some amazing adventures, see some astounding scenery and because of their mode of travel, have a lot of time to talk with their travelling companions or people in the cities where they are staying.
I am blown away that an unmarried couple would cross Iran, Pakistan and Afghanistan. I guess they told people they were married to share a room (they were on a budget) and they were only friends, not a couple, but what a risk. I am astonished that they were never asked to produce a marriage license or any proof of marriage when they stayed in hotels. I am astonished at the girls (one left in Lahore and another joined him, but these are girls who are friends, not anything more) would travel on the backs of trucks full of men, and never blink an eye.
The book is occasionally hilarious. Most of the hilarity results from foods they have to eat – sometimes it is the only food available – or from misunderstandings because of lack of a common language, or due to their frequent bouts of diarrhea, what I really liked about the author was that he was rarely pompous, and when he is funny, it is usually about some conversation he has had, or some mistake he has made.
One of my favorite parts of the book happens in Iran:
As we sat waiting for the bus to Tabriz, the next town on Marco Polo’s itinerary, we watched the mullahs speeding past in their sporty Renault 5s. Iran was proving far more complex than we had expected. A religious revolution in the twentieth century was a unique occurence, resulting in the first theocracy since the fall of the Dalai Lama in Tibet. Yet this revolution took place not in a poor banana republic, but in the richest and most sophisticated country in Asia. A group of clerics was trying to graft a mediaeval system of government and a pre-medieval way of thinking upon a country with a prosperous modern economy and a large and highly educated middle class. The posters in the bus station seemed to embody these contradictions. A frieze over the back wall of the shelter spoke out, in the name of Allah, against littering. On another wall two monumental pictures of the Ayatollah were capped with the inscriptions in both Persian and English:
BEING HYGENIC IS DIRECTLY RELATED ON THE MAN’S PERSONALITY
and:
ALLAH COMMANDS THE RE-USE OF RENEWABLE RESOURCES.
We had expected anything of the Ayatollah. But hardly that he would turn out to be an enthusiastic ecologist.
The challenge of this journey is to follow as closely as possible the path Marco Polo took, but two segments of the journey go through off-limits areas. They find a way into one, to discover later it is an atomic testing area, and the second, at the very end, around Xanadu, they find receptive Chinese officers who take them to have a brief glimpse of the ruins of Xanadu while booting them out of the area. As they stand in Xanadu, they repeat a poem that every American child grows up with in English Literature:
In Zanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of gertile ground
With walls and twoers were girdled round:
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills.
Where blossom’d many an incense-bearing tree:
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
(Coleridge)
I liked this book. Dalrymple is a history major, and often quotes from historical – even obscure – texts to illuminate what he observes. I think I may look at a couple more he has written since.
Dewey: The Small-Town Library Cat Who Touched the World
I’ll admit it, I was looking for a quick read, and after resisting this book for months, I picked it up. As much as I love cats, I am not that much into cute, nor am I particularly sentimental, and I don’t like having my emotions manipulated. Just one look at the adorable cat on the cover told me it was going to be one of those slick, fairly superficial feel-good kind of books.

See what I mean? Just look at that cover. Look how that cat just looks right into your eyes. This book is going to suck you in.
This book was a surprise. Yes, it was touching. Yes, it was about a tiny little kitten who almost died, stuffed in a below freezing book-return box in an northern Iowa country library in the middle of one of the coldest nights of the year, and yes, he ends up living in the library for almost 20 years and brightening the life of the people who come into the library. Yes, Dewey is adorable, and funny, and loveable. Yes, the book is an easy read.
It is also, surprisingly, an uncomfortable read. It is not overly sentimentalized. It is also the story of a woman, Vicky Myron, who grew up on one of the northern Iowa farms, and she tells us about the quality of a life that is no longer available in America, how the safe, secure, intertwined family life of rural Iowa has greatly disappeared. The hard times we are working our way through in 2009 is an echo of hard times suffered in rural America, as small farms are gobbled up by the more efficient super-farms, owned by conglomerates, not by families.
She tells us about her physical struggles with a disastrous childbirth, and its two year aftermath, and she tells us about how her marriage to a lovable alcoholic died, almost without her being aware it was dying. She doesn’t spare herself, as she discusses her problems, as a single mother, on welfare, trying to get a college education and raising her daughter, who couldn’t wait to move away from her. She talks about her challenges remodeling an old cement reading library into a modern, airy information resources center serving the town and the surrounding community, at the same time she is working on her Masters in Library Science. She describes her challenges dealing with the town bureaucracy. It is not always comfortable, or feel-good reading. It takes the book out of the superficial, and gives you something to think about.
Intertwined in all of this is Dewey Readmore Books, the cat who comes to live in the Spencer, Iowa, library, and who is eventually featured on TV shows around the world. He responds to requests that he pose, that he perform, he seems to know who needs a little love and is quick to give it – he is a great main character. For me, some of it was also uncomfortable, kind of a stretch – like that the cat would be in the window waving to her every morning when she came to work. Well . . . maybe . . . I’ve almost always had cats in my life, and few have every shown such consistent loyalty. Cats are . . . well, cats. It’s the way God made them. 😉
What I love is that this book is about libraries, and the amazing (mostly) women who run them. These librarians have had a huge influence on my life, and the life of AdventureMan, challenging us to explore outside our boundaries and supporting our aspirations, recommending new ideas and new ways of serving their communities. Librarians are part of the backbone of America.
I read this book in just a few hours. It just isn’t that complicated or challenging; it is an easy read. It has been a #1 New York Times bestseller, and copies of the book are still selling strongly. It currently ranks #105 in all time book sales on Amazon.com – can you imagine how many books that must be? The book is sweet, but #1? I can only imagine so many people are buying and reading it because it looks like 1) a Feel-Good book and 2) an easy read.
Dining in Doha: Khazana
“There’s this new Indian restaurant not to far from here,” said my good friend, Texas Grammy, as we left the Souk Waqif Hotel. “Let’s just walk around and see if we can find it.”
We always love walking around in the souks. We used to back when it was “off-limits”, considered a dangerous place for Western women to be. We always figured if we dressed modestly and kept kind of quiet, we wouldn’t have any problems – and we never did. We rarely saw other Western women down at the Souk Waqif then, but mostly we went early on the hot summer mornings, so we didn’t see much of anyone except the veiled and abaya’d women who shopped there regularly.
We walked around, noting the changes, but eventually had to admit defeat – we couldn’t find the restaurant. As we wandered, we started asking people. You know how once directions take more than like five turns, you can’t remember them all? So we would go one or two turns, then ask again. The last time, the sweet shopkeeper’s assistant walked us all the way there. It was actually only about a block from the hotel, but in the opposite direction from which we had walked.
It was worth the walk!
Khazana is a green oasis in the middle of a dusty souk area.


It’s built in one of the historical buildings, so they had to preserve all the original walls and windows. It means there is not one huge dining room, but several small, intimate dining areas:

We ordered fabulous foods, and most of them I didn’t get a chance to photograph; we were busy chatting and busy catching up and having such a good time! But the food is FABULOUS. Fresh. Tasty. Spiced just enough to capture your interest, not enough to blow your brains out.




The service was attentive and charming, without being overly intrusive. The tea was excellent. Everything about the meal was refined and delicious – the food, the setting, and the excellent service.
We were told that the restaurant was there because the Amir of Qatar wanted it there. He is a man of excellence, and he wants excellence for Qatar. We asked if he dined there, and the waiter looked around, and his eyes gleamed, and then he whispered “we are not allowed to say.” He had a great big smile on his face as he said it, full of pride.
I would dine there again, in a heartbeat. I am betting we will need reservations the next time. 🙂
Vote Now! The Great Kuwait Market Magic Challenge
We had some thoroughly splendid contributions to one of my favorite challenges of all, the Great Kuwait Market Magic Challenge.
Here are the challengers – please visit their photos before you vote:
DaisyMae
Bu Yousef
ShoSho
TeaGirl
Fewer entries – but every entry a gem. This is going to be a very difficult vote.
Thank you to our great photographer-participants. Your photos were truly Market Magic. 🙂 It was a thrill for me to see each and every one.
Whatever Floats Your Boat
Actually, I hate that phrase, but today it fits. I looked out the window and laughed – there is a tanker, floating above the horizon. At first, I almost thought it was a balloon. Look! See for yourself:

The day is so clear, I can see the tin roofs on Failaika Island with my bare eye. It isn’t much, but it is the clearest day in a long time:

In today’s Kuwait Times, Dr. Saleh al-Ajeeri tells us that the chances of rainfall are going away because the winds are changing, and that the temperatures are going to fall again. It’s hard for me to believe, on a day like today, warm and sunny and not a cloud in the sky, it’s hard to believe it is going to be cold. Dr. Al-Ajeeri says “The winter season is still going on and the cold will return during a season locally known as the ‘Scorpion’s Cold'” and that we can’t count on higher temperatures until the end of February.
SCORPION’S COLD?? OK, my Kuwaiti friends, I have never heard of that before. Can anyone explain to me what this is? And what it it called in Arabic?
Bu Yousef: Fancy a Date? Great Kuwait Market Magic Challenge

Woo HOO, Bu Yousef! This is one great photo! I can almost taste the date, but even better – I love the gleam on the vendor’s face! More, please, Bu Yousef!
Wise Men Still Seek Him
“Oh! You’re putting your Christmas things away!” I noticed, as I was picking up my friend.
“No, no, not until after Epiphany!” she said. “Our tradition is to take down the tree when Epiphany is over.”
Tomorrow, January 6, is The Feast of Holy Epiphany and in celebration, I will post two more works of art I found to celebrate the wise men seeking the child by following a mysterious star. Many people are still looking for a scientific foundation for the Star of Wonder and if you click on the blue Star of Wonder it will take you to a very good discussion of some of the possibilities from BBC News.
I like this one because the Wise Men have on clothing that really looks Persian:

Here, in a painting by Murillo, they look, not surprisingly, Spanish/European, except for the African!

I wonder if in their travels, these wise men came through Kuwait?
Qurain Fest – Information Where?
Here is what bugs me. There is this perfectly wonderful festival going on. I only know because the newspapers print photos and stories – after each event. I cannot figure out WHERE the event is taking place, WHAT TIME an event will take place . . . these are perfect opportunities to go and learn something, to experience the culture, and we have no idea – in advance – where to go, how to find these things.
I would love to see this dancing!
So, if it is cultural, music and dancing are allowed? 🙂 Is it always just men dancing, or do women dance, too?
Isn’t this camel racing season? When are the camels raced? Where?
From Al Watan
Kuwaiti folk dancing troupe entertains audience
KUWAIT: As part of the Qurain Cultural Festival”s festivities, the Red Palace group, a folk dancing troupe, performed in Jahra on Sunday.
The performance, which was attended by Deputy Director of the festival Mohammed AlÙ€Asousi, lasted for two hours. The dancers presented a wide spectrum of national and patriotic themes much to the enjoyment of the audience.
Head of the folklore group, Nasser Suleiman AlÙ€Faraj explained that their participation in the event came as a result of the group”s strong belief in reviving an old heritage and folklore. He stressed that the past would always be relevant in the present.
Last updated on Tuesday 30/12/2008









