“Even though it is so pale, there is a four winged angel that I see with my old eyes here. He resembles Israfel. Portrayal of Israfel is used on some talismans. For instance, there is a relief of Israfel which resembles this one a lot on one of the four pillars in Saint Sophia Church. There are the portrayals of Michael, Gabriel, Azrael on other pillars. Each of these four angels cause miracles and disasters. The wings of Israfel is the sign of a great famine which will start in West… Angels are commonly pictured with two wings, but angel Israfel who will blow the trumpet called Sûr on the Day of Judgment has four wings. Israfel holds the West with one of his four wings and the East with the other one; he descends from the heavens to the earth with the third wing and covers himself to be concealed with his last wing. The gate of the new world will open with his fourth blow on the last day and this will be the actual beginning.”

In mid 1900s, four university students who are in pursuit of an anonym, mysterious lost book in a nook corner of Istanbul and the same book that rules people’s fates by passing from hand to hand in 1700s, during the reign of Sultan Mahmud I. In pursuit of a book that is written in all alphabets, read from four directions, contains all the secrets of the universe. A mysterious book with 444 pages that is chased from the dark galleries of old Cairo to the alleys of the Ottoman Istanbul, from the vessel of a rich Marseilles book collector to the turbulent 50s of Turkey and a very layered story…


The protagonist of The Novelist is a loser who has a disappointment both in life and in authorship. In his last novel, he is telling us how he came on the verge of suicide. He does the best thing he can and starts writing a suicide novel instead of leaving a short suicide note behind.

Our novelist protagonist confesses that he committed a double murder just in the beginning of his novel. While the police is seeking him, we are reading the last novel he is writing. Through the novel we are taking literal strolls in the old quarters of Istanbul, we are walking around the parks with his sister and her dog, we are going into dark bars in Beyoglu, we meet the novelist’s veiled girlfriend Zahide, his sister with Down syndrome, his retired journalist father.

While he is telling us the chain of events, driving him to commit murders with patient and fictional narrative, he is slowly taking us back to his victims and to the moment of murders. Literature never leaves us alone through our strolling.

The novel Hakan Yaman wrote a short time before Gezi Park protests contains socioeconomic turmoil, political dilemma, abuse of religion, secular anti-secular conflicts in Turkey. It is an astonishing crime fiction of Istanbul.


Fall Scented Sins is the story of a love and betrayal in the Levantine society of Izmir in the 19th century. The relation between Alfredo Vitelli who is a member of İzmir’s rich and well-known Levantine families and his wife Isabella Vitelli is narrated on two different platforms in the novel.

While a 19th century narrator is telling the story of the journey which organized by the Vitelli family with their friends to the Seven Churches of the Book of Revelation in the New Testament, Isabella’s diary accompanies it. Narrator’s story and Isabella’s diary flow parallel in the beginning.

As novel progresses, these two stories intertwine and conflict.


The woman in the photograph is the voice records of its protagonist Suphi. Suphi is one of the grandsons of those “useless men” who we often find in the world literature. He is living with his mother in Istanbul. He works as an accountant in a small company. He is an amateur photographer and he carries his solitude on his back like a heavy burden.  We are listening his adventure of seeking the woman who he loses after he takes her photograph by coincidence.

Suphi falls in love with her just after he takes her picture. He explains everything recklessly, leisurely to us as if he confesses his sins. He goes in too deep, as far as to his childhood; he narrates by scratching his wounds remained in the hazy days of his childhood, he narrates even by making them bleed.