From Where She Left Off

By Atemi Kayaky

We are faced with an industrialization phenomenon that makes itself felt in literature as well as in every other subject. The reshaping of literature according to the conditions of market capitalism turns literary products into simple consumables. Newly released literary novels, stories, poems, essays, etc. literary products no longer have an artistic quality, they are consumed quickly and resemble Hollywood movies…

 

Identical, fabricated books adorn the shelves of the bookstore. We are faced with books that appeal to the eye, not to the pleasure of reading. Every day, we are showered with novels whose content resembles a movie script, and the most popular ones are immediately adapted to the cinema. Their styles, plots and even the subjects themselves are extremely superficial, identical books are everywhere.

 

There are quite a few pages in such works, but it is possible to read and finish them in a short time. We would like to say that the reason for this is that it is written in a successful language. However, if we consider that the majority of the people who read these books find it boring and they find it boring, this is not the main reason. The main reason is that in such industrial novels, whether it is character analysis, description of environment and events, a very superficial work is done. Writers don't think about these things. Because – a group of authors should be excluded from this – what is important for authors now is the sales figures and the amounts they will earn, rather than the literary and aesthetic characteristics of their works.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Atemi Kayaky
• Release date: Sep 9, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201983871

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Atemi Kayaky

ISBN: XXXXXXXXX

Atemi Publishing 20 18

*****one*****

Cansu Şengün • From Where She Left Off ... - Oggito

17

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It's nice to think of you. Missing you is good. To be able to love is an effort, an effort, an effort. But all of them remained in di'li time. Little excitements gave way to unpleasant surprises. The rest of us. We are alive. Did you see? Now I have said goodbye to everyone and I was an empty place. I was a never ending midnight. Oh these fears. On on not beat them, I go too. Sometimes being deceived by a blank stare. The color of your eyes... In flower gardens that should bloom again. Barefoot on the ground. No, I'm not saying love. It can't be love. It's like the sudden arrival of a lost feeling. It's like waking up from an impossible dream. It's like losing your struggles inside yourself when you see him with someone else.  It's like going with the current despite that feeling you've had so many times. It's weird that it doesn't even sound weird actually. It's like not being able to get close or touch after the disappointments . A cold but sunny day. We can not talk. We don't talk. Unresponsive but I can't go. There is no way. Even so, not much changes. With no intention of changing. So why are we here, why are we different tables, why are we not close? Months passed. My heart is closed, maybe a hope left a half-open door, saying that there is always hope, oh how poor me. Relationships evolve while people change. My heels accelerating without hitting them in such acceptable rubbish. Confronting myself, and those who left continue as if they never happened... I'm not angry anymore. No matter how happy everyone is, they say they go out and continue on their way. There is a key switch for us, but again, we continue to life again ...   

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*****2nd*****

Müjde Van Gorp • Until Three Times

21

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Hande had given up on wanting anything for herself when she was a child. In fact, he never wanted anything out of the ordinary. A doll, a plastic tea set, or at most a toy sewing machine... Everything she wanted was out of place, unnecessary, and most of all impossible. He should have grown up as soon as possible, got married and left the house, and a throat should have been reduced. Hande was the only one who was too much for that house. Get your head aside, I can't see the TV, Hande. Get off my feet, get out of the toilet, Hande. What have you dropped again, you incompetent. Turn off the light, go to sleep now, it was pregnant . When her mother got sick, Hande grew up faster than her older brother. She completed her mother, who was left unfinished. He washed the sheets and hung them on the rope. He wiped the floors, swept the carpets. To wash the dishes, he added detergent to the water and foamed the water. He blew bubbles and laughed. Don't giggle Hande, mind your business. He choked his laughter down his throat, vomited into the just-polished sinks. A run went to the market. He went downhill with bags heavier than himself. He sorted beans, chopped onions, cut his hand, but felt no pain. He made tired coffee for his father and brother in the evenings. He added the froth to the coffees. He relied on the good news set in three times. He fell into a makeshift sleep, curled up on the edge of the chair, until his mother called out. That was what it was to be Hande, and she didn't dare to imagine anything else. Hande was married to Cemil at the age of nineteen. On the sewing machine of the neighbor woman Sibel, she sewed her own wedding dress, which was the same model that her future mother-in-law had brought in front of her. If it were up to Hande, she would sew a wedding dress with a long tail. But it's not up to Hande. On the wedding night, he kissed the hands of the elders, swallowed the regurgitation of his stomach, which was sick when he was eating the cake with the cheapest cream. He smiled at the camera with henna in his hands, gold on his neck and a red belt on his waist, but he never laughed. At one point, when he met the eyes of the lamb with henna on his back and a red scarf around his neck, he chuckled, How he looks like me, but when he met Cemil's curious gaze, he covered his mouth with henna hands. When the wedding was over and Hande was going to another house, she really hugged her crying mother. He went to his house with Cemil and when the red belt tied by his father was untied , he tied all the red, all the ties, ribbons , Cemil's and their father in a thaw... When he woke up in the morning, he put whatever was red in bleach. He was a good man, Jamil. He was attached to his home. He didn't drink or gamble. What else would it be. His feet just stink. But Hande quickly got used to that smell and doing the same things in a house other than her father's house. On the one hand, she was a second-hand, old-fashioned sewing machine, tailoring it to her in the neighborhood, contributing a penny to the house, and raising her daughter on the other. Her husband would make her coffee without asking, place a pillow under her back, and wake up without any dreams of tomorrow. One day, when he was going to pick up his daughter from school, he caught a glimpse of a poster affixed to a tree. Professional tailoring course. Factory sewing machines training, job guarantee after training. Six-month course. Turkish lira. For the first time in her life, Hande fell into a dream. A dream that smuggles butterflies into it and makes it sing cheerful songs... He cut this dream in his mind for a few days, cut it off and tacked it to his torn life. For the first time why not! said. No, he said, then why? In the morning, just as Cemil was about to leave the door to go to work, he said, Cemil. Her husband ignored it. He cleared his throat, felt his trembling voice, and said in a low voice, Camil, I want something. Without even raising his head, Cemil tied his shoelaces and left the house. Hande caught up behind her. I want to go to tailoring school, he said more loudly. Don't let such things happen to us, her husband said. He grabbed Cemil's arm, looked straight into his eyes and said, I want it so much. There is also an insured job guarantee. I would contribute more to the house, we wouldn't have to pretend we didn't hear what our daughter wanted. Please think before you say no, he said. Although Cemil walked away, Hande's determined gaze, which she had never met before, remained on her. How much is this course, said Cemil, when he returned home in the evening. Hande grabbed the jar in which she had saved money from the kitchen and poured it on the coffee table between the two of them . "Half the course