In the first half of the twentieth century ‘East Meets West’ was a familiar theme in popular fiction. Written mainly by white women, a great deal of it was set in India and centred on the thrills ‘n’ spills of mixed-race romance. Here we have a Turkish twist on the issue, this time from a Turkish male rather than an English rose. It sounds like an intelligent and thought-provoking read. Fathma, seen here behind the ‘pitiless, medieval gauze fabric’ marries an American and moves to New York. I can’t tell you what happens next – I don’t have the book. Just the jacket. Yes, all over the world there are collectors glaring at their book cases, eyes screwed up with loathing as they survey the solid, blank wall of jacket less books. If only they were millionaires, they think… if only they’d been born a few decades earlier… etc etc. Jacket less books are a curse, a source of constant unhappiness and resentment. And my peculiar torture is to have a box of bloody jackets and no books. I’ll be looking at another one soon, but tomorrow we’ll focus on more East meets West romance…
Hurst and Blackett, 1931. First edition.
