Ahmet Hashim's Prose

We present one of the most comprehensive books about Ahmet Hâşim, one of the great poets of Turkish Poetry: Ahmet Hâşim's Prose. Ahmet Hâşim, the strong, subtle and wild poet of O Belde, Staircase, Carnation, Piyale, Nightingale, Garden, Suvari, enriched our language and literature with his prose. Ahmet Hâşim, who added "experimental" depth and flavor to almost all of his anecdotes, interviews and travel writings, which he published in various newspapers and magazines and only one third of which he made into a book, avoided being the plaything of literary movements and political ideologies; was able to look at the world with free, curious, sometimes childish and mischievous eyes; benefited as much as possible from the cultural accumulation of all humanity; He produced in-depth texts with an aesthetic approach. İbrahim Demirci, with the meticulousness of a jeweler, dealt with all his prose, both published and unpublished, in this study; evaluated both in terms of content and form. This work, which is a basic source in the context of Hashim's prose, is not a tribute to Hashim, who has already deserved such works, but a duty.
“But why should it be necessary to think like so-and-so in order to have thought right?” “You had to have a soul for you to understand me, and that soul had to be poisoned in a way that was incurable, like the soul of our fellow countryman Loti.” “Mosque and human, robe and turban, barbecue and hookah are not what is called orient; The Orient sees and hears them and adopts them while seeing them. / Literature is in the air of life and in the nets of nerves. Our painters will know this the day they are ready to get out of the turpentine-smelling air of their ateliers.” “Of all the temples, it is the mosque that gets the first light from the sun. Minarets with copper arrows rise in the air to see the sun first.” “No face is as beautiful in reality as it seems in the imagination.” “In Istanbul, there are many poets who are incapable of using their wings, like bees falling into a honey pot, and walk with their feet in shambles, as opposed to a poet whose arm was struck by the electrical wires of a political issue without his knowledge, but once or twice in his life in Istanbul.” “No artist wants to talk about his work to others before creating it. Because a work whose secret has been exposed is doomed to die before it is born.” “One of the last definitions of art, which has been described differently in every era, is this: 'A means of compensating for the caresses that real life has denied us.'” “Germany is a big pink apple. But it is wormy inside.” “A nation that is constantly worried about whether I am loved or not is a nation that has given up hope of being liked.”