The Island

By Ertürk Demirel

In my book, which consists of intertwined philosophical stories on the theme of freedom, I examine the dilemmas of freedom by a dialogue with venerable thinkers such as Marx, Rousseau, Plato, Hobbes, Foucault, Hegel, Levinas, Butler, Kant and Derrida. My book is ideal for making an introduction to the philosophy of freedom through literature, as well as filling a niche in the genre of philosophical novels, which are also possible to read for the sheer literary pleasure. However, this is not a philosophy text book; it is pure fiction that displays people struggling with unfreedom.
My novel also embodies the idea of ​​death and love by unifying the traces of these five stories in the form of a river novel, to the limitation of our freedom and indeed to the importance of freedom within these limits; our freedom begins with love, which is the hope of reaching out to others, and ends with death, the ultimate limit. All the protagonists in the book are actually my masks and my Kafkaesque style hides this idea only to reveal it in the end. The book also touches upon many side themes, such as the body, and the law, in sci-fi settings.
In today’s society, where I believe that freedom, domination and totalitarian society contains many debates about our current life, these discussions must be held by protecting the philosophical tradition and my novel has a crucial value for today by making philosophy accessible to everyone. This book has been the culmination of my belief that philosophy is for everyone and is actually literature.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BadPress
• Release date: Jul 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393875970

Book preview

The Island

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In the resentment of my own dreams

I’m looking for a port

In the taste of isolatedness

If you’re alone like everyone else

Leaving without being able to put a name on it affects you (all)

You’ll be an ugly whimper

An island in others lives

The things you await cannot save you from that loneliness

Because all forgottennes lives with you

In you and lonely islands like you

Why does it find those who remember

At their most hopefulness

the emptiness of the ones who they have failed to find?

No longer love me

To call me to your own loneliness.

I belong to me;

Know it like this.

I don’t have hate nor anger for the days I awake.

Do it! At least...at least

Do justice to my loneliness!

Doesn’t love with your wild clumsiness

Let it go off half-cocked

Send that spared heart of yours

To someone who knows themselves less then I know me.

Perhaps maybe you will connect reaching over the wild oceans

To the others determined hands as many as can be.

But I don’t want you to love me

Don’t even know my name!

The Grave

WAROMANCE: As you know, hope is the craziness of desire...

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Hiding in the green shadows of the forest, he was telling himself to follow the river. Fieldfares always die alone. You’re not going to die alone. Grass; covered in snow and ivies beyond the ferns, wild blackberries, old rusty pine trees, a squirrel with its curious eyes. The mist is settling in; the crystal scene is wrapping itself with mystery. Sound of an eagle owl from far away...the valley keeps getting narrower and becomes an alley where the faces of the two mountains rub against each other. The trees are becoming sparse. Darkness sets, as the mountains, which face the sky where the evening star slowly fades into the mist, are washed over with red and white lights. They say if you can’t see then touch, but the man’s hand, holding his left shoulder, has prickled and lost its senses. His old dog who has been just as much exhausted as himself on the hunt, is once again tied up with a chain to stop him wondering off after a smell and getting lost. To keep his arms free, he has clipped the chain to his belt.

The night breeze trembles the skylarks as they get ready to sleep. Don’t move your arm. The stinking carrion on your back is already heavy. What was that noise? The thing that breaks through the thin ice on the river and shoots to the air, dives back into the calm stream.

He was very weak when he was born, there was a problem with his lungs. I was scared for months that he was going to die. He later became a strong chap, but he didn’t have self-confidence at first. He used to not speak for a whole day if the other lads didn’t include him in their games. And if they did include him, no matter how much they made fun of him, he wouldn’t stand up for himself. I taught him to protect himself, but to love himself? I don’t know.... At least he wasn’t shy anymore. When the three of us where hunting, Taba and him would never stand still, they would always run off ahead. He always desired the whole world...

Shooting a fieldfare was also because of desire. Why did you do that? I wanted to hold it, pet it. It flew away. I tried explaining the law, but couldn’t, at all, teach him what he had done was wrong. I finally picked up the bird and held it in front of his eyes, the animal was still breathing, a blood clot on the tip of its beak, blank eyes. Look! You did this! He still didn’t understand, started crying. But, but we kill other animals...sheep, deer... I shook my head: To live. Only to live... He hadn’t understood the difference between these, otherwise none of this would’ve happened. Maybe I see that when I look back on the past, but how could he not understand the law if he’d understood that he’d done something wrong? 

The man walks, as if he owns the forest. As he is crushing the grass covered in blood particles with his raw leather boots, the white feathered arrows stick their heads out of the quiver on his back. He relaxes and squeezes the cloth on his arm when the evening breeze finally separates the mist, laying before all the mysteries of the scene one by one. Blood dripping from his wound has now coloured his hand like the last beams of the day but he’s almost there. Taba, don’t run! With these words from its owner, the grumpy hunting dog slows down. 

The old hunter stops; puts down the wild boar, kicking the dead animal in anger. Wound on his arm is almost covered with a dark clot but there’s still blood coming from the one on his shoulder. Not like it’s the first time he barely escaped being prey to his hunt. If you can’t kill with the first arrow, the war starts then. Taba scared of its owner’s rage, has sat at the furthest he could by stretching his chain. The gall coming from the boar’s crooked mouth paints the snow to a yellowy- green colour. The hunter feels like swearing. He tries to relax his back by cracking it, but you could tell from his face that this didn’t work. He’s going to kick the animal once again as he isn’t done with his anger. Taba accompanies his owner with a growl. He has learnt to leave all to the humans after hunting a prey. Insisting on the smell of its gall, he crouches sensing the tension of the man.

They are almost at the last curve of the valley, so he can rest a bit. The man looks for a comfortable spot to kneel, away from the hardened snow. Couldn’t find it, ripping off the branches of rusty pine trees in anger, dragging the dog who’d shaken off the snow. The slaughtering snowflakes float down onto the dead boars’ head. It’s now a creepy bride decked up in confetti. Smiling at the old groom who has united it with immortality. Last flies of the day buzzing on it. The hunter has now made a mattress by putting branches which open up as a fan on top of one another. Petting Tabas’ head who had snugged up next to him, looking at his prey so as to seem thinking whether it is worth all this effort or not.  Heating up his knife, maybe it ran through him to seal his wound by pressing the knife against it, but it was impossible to set fire to this much wet kindling.

Home...while there is nothing to eat other than the ugly boar looking like it hated dying next to you, while your dog is getting colder because of you, while feeling more alone...you should pull out the tobacco, roll it...before night falls...before the white, magical moon starts smiling with its wildness...before drifting into more thoughts.

Now alone, maybe was alone from the start. But he never felt like that when he went out hunting with F. He was free. He wanted him to also fell free.  He looked like part of the green, never happier amongst the trees. Yes, there wasn’t a problem when they were alone, but when there was someone else with them the kid would change. Especially that day...

V and F were again going ahead of me, when one of the servants called me. I told them to wait before I went back inside, but when I returned, they were nowhere to be found. It was easy to follow their traces; they weren’t walking like real hunters yet. I forced them back to the village as soon as I found them. He first tried to put the blame on V: Come, he said, when I didn’t want to, he called me a cissy; I had to go. Had to go? Still can’t make your own decision? He lifted his head: I made it myself. I am as brave as he is...

That was the first time Taba heard it, raised his ears and stood up. While the hunter was thinking that tobacco would not be enough even for a single cigarette. When he first heard it, he told himself, can’t be, when there was one turn to reach the village. They couldn’t have come all the way down here. Although his long past grandma had said, son; only love, and also hunger calls everyone to the heat of the blood. It somehow brings everyone together. When hunger and love call you to a fight, you then understand you’re not alone, but you are by yourself, you’re lost.

Sadness after a lost smile, always sadness, still a smile, still sadness. The world is a question, without an answer. The lost should be looked for. Gathered around the fire we were listening to V’s song: I also was a fan of the grumpy kids’ voice. Then I saw F get up with a blackened face and walk into the darkness. When I went after him, he was crumbling the pinecone he had in his hand. When I pushed him into speaking, he told me he hates his voice. I like your voice. But they don’t. You don’t need them to like everything about you. You also don’t need everyone’s love. Maybe you don’t need anyone. I don’t need it, but I want it.

The hunter was now just standing there looking. He’d faced the way his growling dog was facing. It seemed like he heard their noise, but he couldn’t see a movement between the dim trees.  He relaxed a bit, as danger couldn’t be sensed for the time being, behind the known sounds of the crawlers and the last birds getting ready to perch. He told Taba to be quiet. He was about to calm down after he took a final look at the forest in the dimming light. Just at that moment as he’d licked the paper, and was folding carefully not to spill the tobacco, which was already not that much, he saw it. Grey fur covered in snow; a body hunger had bent a bit formless. Like it was spreading anger around itself with the fog coming out of its mouth. Its black lips were ajar as if it was laughing at a joke the human didn’t understand but its sharp teeth known to symbolize the wildness was not visible. The animal was not noble nor was it basic; it was alive and at that moment awfully close. It was looking at the dead without moving.

Be yourself. I always told him that. Make your own law. Did he listen to me? Yes, he liked me, he always respected my words, even though he didn’t understand them. In our last fight I told him, be yourself. His lips lifted; his smile was scaring me now. I’ve always been myself, father. He wasn’t. Couldn’t. I don’t believe it.

The old man wasn’t really scared at that moment, to be fair he had seen a lot to that day. Alone hungry wolf, yes, being alone maybe she wouldn’t even attack. His arm is wounded, but he has Taba, he fought with worst. There’s still a couple of arrows. Then worry came and settled into his head. I wish I’d put the spiked collar on Taba. Or H also came with me. When he was leaving everyone made fun of him, which would have been fine if he was a newbie chap whose head was up in the mountains, trying to prove himself by going on a hunt in this weather. He was already in a state where his wilderness wasn’t found odd; if he didn’t get back who would worry and go looking for him?

Without even thinking he just felt sorry for the shortening amount of tobacco, he spat out the cigarette which was stuck to his lips. Not noticing his hand went up to his head, he shuffled his hair which had been stuck together in the cold. Although he’d learnt how dangerous a sudden move could be. Don’t show your fear, slow, calmly. The hunter waited for a moment as the first blues of the evening was settling behind the mist. He then tried to back up pulling his dog, but a growl from far away locked himself into place again. Even though there was a fair way in between, the female wolf who was looking down from the hillside made the hunter feel her power.

Not listening to the threat coming from the animal, this time the man backed up. To make his blood circulation faster he was squeezing and releasing his fist. Moving away from the boar who had no idea of the fight he was going to cause, he ordered things to his dog in a whisper, but Taba; with all his fur standing up didn’t stop growling at the wolf. He thought; hunter, don’t call me, damn it. It may as well be the last time...

He was proud F until the day he became a man. No, until two days before that. That was the truth. V was always stronger and more skilled than him. But hadn’t F tried? Yes, he had made everyone love him. He would always help everyone who were weaker than him. He taught to share and, how to speak to people. I’d made a human out of him. Well, then, this couldn’t be. It shouldn’t be...

He and the female wolf stared at each other; both waiting, for the other to act first, for the other to give something away. Battle and dance called again, fight and desire came and sat in between again. The hunter who snapped out of the shock first was about to move, the female wolf once again warned him showing her teeth: don’t rush...we still have all night ahead of us to make love. In a darkness filled forest, on an evening carrying the desire and the smell of the blood in its wind, right between the trees, testing the tension of the first contact.

The female wolf lifted her nose into the air, her nostrils trembled, searching for the smell of blood. Teeth that were going to dig into the meat appeared when she opened her mouth. The craziness of desire wanted to find her other in the warmth of the body: We were one, we are one and we will be one again.

Come to me! Why are you here human? You have meat, water in your home, that’s the world you belong to. Why are you here? Why did your pack leave you? Why did you leave your pack?

No-one left anyone.

Blood, smoke, a dead baby in the distance; all cottages in flames. We’re free from their threats, says the Queen: We are now free. No-one can steel our land! Blood, tears...They are bringing old N to her. There’s blood, mud on the man’s face. Mercy, mercy...forgive me. I turn my back and leave; she is not going to forgive him. Blood, blood, blood...

Then why do you see darkness when the moon rises, when you close your eyes? Why do you always come and hunt when your house is full of food? Isn’t it blood that draws you in?

I’m running away from blood.

But your body is not, it gets hungry for it, desires it. Always more of it, more of it. You come to my forest without wanting to. You spill blood without drinking it. What is it that turns down your desire? Where does the darkness in your sleep come from? Finished, all of it is finished! Give yourself to me! Don’t fight me because of helplessness! I’m your only real pack, I’m both in front and behind of your law. Prove your arrogance to me human. You are me. He is me. You are us and we are He.

Just then snow lifted from the unknowns of the hill, which was covered in fog, another movement was seen. The eyes sparkled of the four deaths running on four claws especially when they smelt the blood. It was obvious with their sizes that it had been a while since they were pups, but with their weak stand they were pale in comparison to the female wolfs’ majestic body. As the man lost his last hope, they came closer, rubbed against their mother, hustled each other.

The wound on the man’s shoulder hurt again; so bad that the hunter forgot about the village, forgot the fear throbbing on his neck and hardly stop the need of pressing his hand on his wound. Now his pride was slowly fading to give its place to a poisedly despair. He, step by step started backing up. He no longer cared for keeping his hunt: his life has become equal to his desire. As he was on the narrowest part of the valley, he decided to move towards the skirts of the other hill, furthest he could with dog tied to his hip. From there if he could cross the river from its shallow part... Should get lost in the dark... Don’t run, but never stop moving... Taba move!

With the unclear movement of the female wolf her babies started rushing down the mountainside. The man hurried to open the distance between. While moving through the branches of the pine trees which bent all the way down to the ground, his feet slipped on the frozen mud underneath the snow, he heard his heart beat in his ears as from time to time he stumbled on the roots of the tree. He thought a mouth with sharp teeth could dig into his leg in any given moment. Whereas Taba was more furious from this prideless running, he somewhat tries to keep up with the man, somewhat turning back and barking, he hits the rocks sticking their heads out of the snow and sways at one end of the chain as he stops walking every now and then.

Whereas the hunter’s desire was wrong from the beginning. This wolf was born to find a hunter stinking of sweat and a dog that was barking continuously. Turning around to get a glimpse he stumbled and fell onto his face in the whiteness.

Stop looking at the past and come! Join us! Maybe the place you belong to is here? Come, Let’s eat from this boar together! Not like you don’t know what blood tastes like; you can’t give up. You’re not yourself there, you know it. Your pack doesn’t want you!

No one can choose who they are, can’t choose the needs of the pack one was born into. One chooses to either be a part of it or to be alone. If a man is not born into blood, would he desire it...  Blood, blood, blood! I’m not going to come.

Your highness, the immigrants would like to come up on you. The queen moved in her thrown uncomfortably, she didn’t like innovations. She looked at me; I tried to calm her down with my expressions, but I knew she wasn’t listening to me anymore. After a short while an elderly man appeared, after bowing all the way to the floor he introduced himself as N: With your permission, we would like to settle onto the empty lands up North. The lands will be enough for all of us, but we shouldn’t get more than what we need. Our laws forbid greediness.  The Queen looked relieved; the place they wanted to move to was half swamp, it was a place that was non-productive. The man left after doing a bunch of kindness shows, we moved into our room with the Queen.

We didn’t have any news on the immigrants for a long time, the Queen was at first busy organizing a festival for her sons becoming a man. It was forbidden to work on a holiday: First, prayers were going to take place, games of archery were going to be held, then the shaman lady was going to start the ceremony. In this case the holiday was also going to be an opportunity to relax for those who worked non-stop. Men, who have given a son to the Queen, with me amongst them, would hunt until the day of the festival to bring the meat that’s needed for the fair. In the meantime, the Queen was trying to pick the ones who would help her with the festival, amongst the woman: these women would be picked from the ugliest so that the Queens beauty would shine.

I was getting F ready; of course, his dream was to be the King of his own lands: Lands don’t have owners, when we die we’ll all be the lands, I was saying to F but he wasn’t even listening. Didn’t the immigrants build a fence around the swamp and own it? Are they going to give it back to us when they die? Or is it going to be left for the King’s son? It’ll be enough for me to be a King until I die anyway.  At that moment his only worry was to beat the Queens biggest son in the games. He wanted to practice instead of running after a deer all day only to shoot a couple of arrows. We need to take food to the fair. Plus, what difference does it make if he wins? At the end you’re all going to count as a single person. Father, what are you saying! Aren’t I your son? You need to defend me! We weren’t understanding each other, yet I never again felt as happy I as I did when we hunted together.

The last day we were hunting underneath the trees again, we came across the most beautiful deer I had ever seen; there was moss on its antlers, hoofs as big as my hands, its nose lifted smelling the air. It sensed us, I whispered to F; nodding his head he stepped out forward. He wanted to hunt this by himself. I didn’t want credit for his accomplishment anyway. But the deer turned around as it became restless. We went after it as quietly as we could. It was further away when it stopped once again. F shot his arrow, but the animal wasn’t badly hurt which was obvious as it started running as fast as it could. When we followed the blood traces, we saw V; the Queens oldest son; standing next to the deer which was laying on the floor.

I shot it, said F moving next to the animal, it’s mine, but V shook his head: I also shot it. There are two arrows there. For a second, they challenged each other like roosters, but I stepped in at the end: It’s the property of the village. Since you shot it together you can carry it together. Neither of them was happy about it, but they didn’t have the guts to argue against me.

There, there! You shot the boar, hunter but it’s now ours! You, or us hunter! What difference does it make? Aren’t you one of us? Don’t you also feed on its meat which you desire?

Maybe the end was here. For a moment he thought the wolves had surrounded him and were about to sink their teeth into his neck. He, sitting up slightly, looked around amongst the tree branches, locking his jaw with the increasing pain of the wound on his shoulder. No, one of the pups had already made it to the boar and had ripped the first piece off of it. The other pups were gathered around the dead animal to get their own pieces. Taba had stopped barking, and was poking his owner with his nose, whimpering.

Whereas the female wolf was still climbing down from the hill slowly, trotting without a hurry. She looked like a dodgy person who was dozed off, without a care, walking on the street at night. She also drew close to the boar, ate a huge chunk of it with the its fur attached, and after gently biting the most fierce of her pups who were growling and who could not share the food, she took a few more big bites, leaving the rest for her pup who hadn’t learnt how to hunt yet. She now sat, staring at the man once again.

Why are you here human? Why are you here?

Because I needed to be free for