The air was crisp, the light
was muted, and although the sun occasionally burst through the clouds, the city
seemed largely drained of color.
“I have always preferred the winter to the
summer in Istanbul,” Mr. Pamuk wrote in “Istanbul.”
“I love the early evenings
when autumn is slipping into winter, when the leafless trees are trembling in
the north wind, and people in black coats and jackets are rushing home through
the darkening streets.”
From the balcony of his apartment, he looked
approvingly at the sun shining weakly through the cloud cover and pronounced it
an optimal day for a walk.
“If this was a hugely sunny day I would be upset,”
he said.
“I like the black and white city as I wrote in ‘Istanbul.’ ”
-Joshua Hammer
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