Chapter 2 foreword

Every summer, I would spend a week rummaging through the files in the forgotten "archive room" attached to the Gebze County Sheriff's office.In 1982, I found this manuscript at the bottom of a dusty cabinet full of royal decrees, land deeds, court records and tax files.Its dreamy blue delicately marbled cover and legible handwriting, shining among faded government documents, caught my eye immediately.As if to further arouse my interest, someone else inscribed the title "The Quiltmaker's Stepson" on the title page of the book.Other than that, there are no other titles.The margins and margins of the pages were filled with drawings of figures drawn by children, small heads in button-up costumes.With great joy, I immediately read this book.I was delighted, but I was too lazy to copy the manuscript, so I stole it from the storeroom that even the young magistrate would not dare call "the archives".I took advantage of the trust of the guards who treated me with great respect rather than watching, and slipped it into my suitcase in the blink of an eye.

At first, I didn't quite know what to do with the book other than rereading it.At the time, I was still deeply skeptical of history and wanted to focus purely on the story itself, not on the scientific, cultural, anthropological, or "historical" value of the manuscript.This also makes me deeply attracted by the author himself.Since being forced to leave university with friends, I have taken up my grandfather's job as an encyclopedia editor.It was at this time that I had an idea to include an entry for this writer in the history section of the encyclopedia of celebrities in charge.

In this way, I devoted all my spare time between compiling encyclopedias and drinking to this task.When I looked at the basic source material from that period, I immediately found that some of the events described in the story did not match the historical facts: for example, there was no evidence at all that Istanbul was ravaged by fire during Koprulu’s five years as chancellor It shows that there was an outbreak of disease worth mentioning at that time, let alone the epidemic of the plague mentioned in the book.The names of some high-ranking officials from that period were also misspelled, some were confused with each other, and some simply changed their names.And the names of those royal astrologers do not match the royal records, but I think this inconsistency has a special role in the story, so I don't pursue it too much.On the other hand, our historical "knowledge" mostly confirms the events told in the book.Sometimes, I even see this "reality" in small details: for example, the execution of Lord Hussein, the royal astrologer, and the hare hunting of Mohammed IV in the palace of Miraho, are all related to the historian Ney. Mar's description is similar.It can be seen that this writer obviously loves reading and fantasy.So it occurred to me that he was probably quite familiar with this and many other books and gleaned from them to write his story.He claims to know Ephria Charleby, but may have only read his books.Thinking that the opposite might also be true, as other examples have shown, I tried not to be disappointed and continued to track down the author of the story.However, my research in various libraries in Istanbul dashed most of my hopes.Neither in the library of Topkapi Palace nor in other public or private libraries that I think may have strayed from there During the eighties, articles and books submitted to Muhammad IV.I found only one clue: these libraries housed other works by the "left-handed scribes" mentioned in the book.I've searched and rummaged for a while, but I'm exhausted.I have written countless letters to many universities in Italy and at this time they also sent me disappointing replies.In vain I wandered among the tombstones in Gebze, Janit Hisar, and Uskudar cemeteries, hoping to find the author's name (which is mentioned in the book, although it is not mentioned on the title page).I gave up following possible clues and wrote encyclopedia entries based solely on the story itself.As I feared, they didn't publish the article, not because it lacked scientific evidence, but because they didn't think the character was famous enough.

Perhaps for this reason, my fascination with this story has deepened.I even thought about quitting in protest, but I love the job and my friends.For a while, I told this story to everyone I met, as enthusiastically as if I had written it rather than discovered it.To make the story sound more interesting, I talk about its symbolic value, its basic connection to contemporary reality, how I understand our time through this story, and so on.When I made these claims, curious young people interested in topics such as politics, violence, East-West relations, or democracy were intrigued, but they, like my drinking buddies, quickly forgot my story.At my insistence, a professor friend read the manuscript.When returning the manuscripts, he said that there were tens of thousands of manuscripts full of such stories in the wooden houses in the streets of Istanbul.The ignorant people who dwell in these houses either regard the books as sacred places on the top of cupboards, or tore their pages out and lighted the fires.

So, with the encouragement of a girl who wears glasses and never leaves her cigarette, I decided to publish this story that I re-read again and again.The reader will find that I have not deliberately pursued style when revising this book into modern Turkish: After reading a few sentences of this manuscript on the table, I will go to the table in another room , trying to use today's words to describe the meaning of the manuscript that I understand in my heart.It was not I who chose the title, but the publisher who agreed to print it.Readers who have seen the previous dedication may ask whether there is any special meaning in it.I think it's the fad of our time to see everything as related to something else.Therefore, I also succumbed to this common fault and published this story.

Farouk Darwinoglu