Is Love A Madness?

By Bedrettin Simsek

The most burning love poems of Bedrettin Simsek are combined with his novel, a masterpiece of irony and dark humor! 
Bedrettin Simsek, the heterodox author of Turkish literature, whose first work 'The Sermon Book Of The False Prophet' came out in 1996, combines his identity as a poet with his identity as a novelist in his book 'Is Love a Madness?' in which he addresses an even more bizarre situation that arises as a result of a bizarreness of the human soul. By making the poem a part of the novel and with his ability to create situations that can be both tragic and funny at the same time, he reveals a unique work in literary fiction. 
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bedrettin Şimşek
• Release date: Aug 19, 2020
• ISBN: 9786056526176

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Bedrettin Simsek

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Is Love A Madness?

ISBN: 9786056526176

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Translated into English by Bedrettin Simsek, June 2023

Bedrettin Simsek was a promising writer when his first two books were published by major Turkish publishers in 1996 and 1997. His combination of philosophy, humor, and literature set him apart from other writers, and he stood out for his skeptical attitude toward religion. When his third book, The Discussions of an Atheist and a Clergyman was published in 1998 by one of Turkey's leading publishers, he was sued over complaints and both he and the publisher were sentenced to prison terms for insulting religious values. This sentence was suspended on the condition that he would not commit the same offense again and was noted in his record. His conviction made Bedrettin a criminal forever. All publishing houses closed their doors to him; he was excluded from the literary world. However, he had not given up his attitude of questioning beliefs. His later works were always rejected by publishers, some for fear of punishment, others for fear of the reader's reaction. He had to publish his own works; but these books, which did not find a distributor, did not reach the reader. The author's last book, published by his own means in 2014, also remained unsold. The author has been under an undeclared ban for two decades.

1

Your poems are beautiful, but there is no emotion in them, said the lady with a passion for literature. Then she leaned her head on the edge of her chair and sighed as if she had not found what she was looking for.

These words made me despair. Because even though I had been writing poems for years and dedicating them all to her, I couldn't get her to like a single one. Maybe it was because she knew I was trying to steal her heart in this way.

Then will you let me read one more? I said in a sad voice..

What is your next poem about? asked the demanding lady.

It's about the rising of the moon.

Indeed, at that moment the moon was hesitating as if caught on a branch among the trees, waiting for the evening star to rise. In the darkness, the Aegean Sea lay asleep before us. There was no movement in the leaves. All this gave courage to a hopeless poet like me, who thought that no one would listen to him in the silent nights.

I began to recite my poem, which I called The Moon.

MOON

"I kept all that I had to say in my heart; I said everything with my eyes, because I don't know how to speak

My love is like water that has never been drunk since creation

It's so fresh and clear.

It hides like a spring in the depths of my being.

It comes from a part of me I don't know.

But then it is buried in the place where it was born without being able to present itself again.

It turns into tears that flow vainly in the soul.

Then it pours out of my eyes as heavenly rains

Let the years pass quickly

Let the fast-flowing time pluck the petals of my life’s flower with no mercy

Let youth come to an end. Let life, playing the game of joy, hurry to its end...

My unrequited love

Flowing like a river through the stars

May it come to you like a new moon

And as you gaze upon it each night

Let its secret shine upon you in the brightest of lights

May it burn in its own fire like a jewel hanging in the sky

Then let there be a second sun

As it is born, dragging the whole universe behind it

May everything be born with it

When it sinks, may everything sink with it."

I raised my eyes to the eyes of my ruthless listener and waited her judgment.

The lady, a lover of literature, rose and walked across the veranda overlooking the garden. How ethereal she looked in the light reflected from the sky, with her white dress enveloping her ripe body. Then the house by the sea seemed to me like a ship, and she like a phantom wandering on its deck, dragging it into dangerous waters.

If the poem speaks of a whip, she said in a deep voice. It must make the listener feel that whip. Especially if it is a woman listening to the poem, she must moan under that invisible whip. That is true poetry. When it talks about a whip, it makes you feel that whip on your skin. Do yours have that effect? Alas, no! Your verses are beautifully written, that's all, but there is no emotion in them.

In desperation, Is there such a poem? Is there a poem that makes visible what we feel in our soul?

She looked proudly.

Yes, there is.

Then I'd like to read it.

It's a bit difficult.

Why is it difficult?

Because these poems are being kept in a case file in court as evidence of the crime of murder.

I looked puzzled.

The lady with a passion for literature said, Moreover, you have to solve a great mystery to uncover them. So you will see what it means to love poetry to the point of death. Can you do that?

I will do anything to please you. I will even commit a crime if necessary, I said.

The lady laughed and said, That's right. Stealing evidence from a murder case is definitely a crime. But I do not want you to go to jail for it. A judge I know can help you.

A few days later I met the judge the poetry-loving lady had told me about. The judge, who spent his retirement days in the same cottage, wrote little stories based on the cases he encountered and then read them at gatherings of friends. He said he had heard the poems in the case in question, but had not seen them. Was this case a murder? Or was it natural death? That was the question the court could not answer. But if it was a crime, it was clear that the poems had caused the crime and that the muse had been the instigator.

Although the court eventually came to the conclusion that the victim died by accident, this case has been called a poetry murder case, the judge continued. Because many people say that the poems that led to the tragedy were so beautiful that they acted as a weapon. They may have seduced the defendant into committing the crime.

And were these poems published?

You wouldn't think that what goes into the case file as evidence would be published, would you?

Then how do I get to these poems that everyone knows about but no one has read? I asked the judge..

My interlocutor looked at me coldly. It turned out that the things society talked about the most were the things it knew the least about. Although he himself had often talked about these poems, he had never been curious about them. Wasn't that strange? That's why the case that had been dismissed for lack of evidence was still being talked about as if it were a legend.

Very well, I will arrange for you to meet the prosecutor in this case, the judge said. "But I must tell you that this old prosecutor is now retired and very grumpy because