The Turkish Adam and Eve
Ahmet Hamdi Tanpınar’s retelling of a classic myth
Translator’s preface
Ahmet Hamdi Tanpınar’s Adam and Eve is a retelling of one of the best-known stories across cultures. Written as a lyric essay reminiscent of the language used in the Book of Genesis, Tanpınar’s Adam and Eve has remained a popular topic of discussion in Turkish literary circles since first published in 1948.
Tanpınar was a professor of literature, mythology, aesthetics, and history of fine arts. He was familiar with mythologies and traditions of many cultures around the world, especially those in the Middle East. In reimagining Adam and Eve, he drew masterfully on that knowledge.
I believe Tanpınar sought to create a more widely acceptable narrative. His reimagined story could even be construed as a silent call for unity and tolerance among different cultures, which is perhaps why Tanpınar’s most famous student, Mehmet Kaplan, who helped preserve the author’s legacy after his death, called it a “masterpiece.”
To achieve his objective, Tanpınar replaced elements in the classic story that were perceived as unacceptable or problematic in some cultures. He meticulously selected every word, phrase, and motif used in his reimagined story, embedding a great deal of symbolism as well, which is typical of his writing.
Extensive literature exists on Tanpınar’s use of symbolism in Adam and Eve and the elements he excluded or replaced. For example, instead of punishing Adam and Eve for their sin of “falling in love,” God blesses their love; instead of expelling them from the Garden of Eden, God bids farewell to them and warmly sends them to Earth.
In addition, the “apple” motif is eliminated because, in Turkic mythology, the apple is considered a sacred fruit. Similarly, the “snake” motif is eliminated because snakes are not universally known as evil creatures.
Finally, Tanpınar cleverly dealt with the “expulsion” motif by introducing the Peacock Angel. According to Middle Eastern mythology, especially in the Yazidi religion, the Peacock Angel (or Melek Taus) was initially good but later committed a sin, fell out of God’s favor, and was punished and sent to Earth. When he repented, God forgave his sin, and he once again became a much-respected angel.
I hope English-speaking readers enjoy reading Tanpınar’s Adam and Eve in English translation.
Surrounded with large date leaves, strange bamboos, eucalyptuses with weeping tops, pomegranates with fruits resembling the setting sun, figs, and slowly flowing luminous waters, he wished he were the same as before. But so much had changed.
In his sleep, he had seen God leaning over him. After that, his body moved in a different manner than usual, and he whispered prayers different than the ones the angels taught him. Then God smiled at him, covering his left side with his wide, creative hand, and Adam, half asleep, his perceptions not yet fully formed, his sleep reflecting everything around him like a blurry mirror, suddenly felt one of his sides emptying, and soon after, something small and white squirmed near him, cuddling closer to him as if cold and scared. With that feeling, Adam once again found himself next to a body of water, stretched out atop some lush, wide-leafed vegetation.
There were lots of animals around. They were looking at him from a distance as if seeing him for the first time. Flocks of birds flew over his head, coming and going. But he wasn’t aware of them. He was thinking of the soft, sticky creature stuck to his back.
For the first time, he was afraid to look, afraid to see. For the first time, he was apprehensive. At first, he closed his eyes, wondering, “What is it?” Then, unable to stand it any longer, he turned to see the soft, warm creature that had come out of his side, cuddling his ego like a thought, a delusion, a torment, a pleasure.
Without realizing it, he pulled it toward him. And with one of his hands, just like God’s hand that had covered his side a little earlier — during his sleep, which is nothing more than the laziness of objects — he covered the creature’s white body. The soft, warm creature took the shape of his palm.
But he wasn’t even thinking about this softness or warmth. More than the bright-skinned creature that came out of his body, moving near him, held captive in his palm, and almost crushed by his fingers, he was watching his own hand. His rough, soil-colored hand had closed on the soft, light creature with unexpected force.
Adam, his eyes fixed on his hand, was surprised by how swiftly his palm had opened and covered that small creature. First, he stood up; then, he bent over his dream, which by now belonged to the daylight, and looked at its face buried in its own fur.
No, this wasn’t an angel. Neither could it be one of the stars. It had been washed and scrubbed in their spume, taking on their luster, but it wasn’t a star. He had never felt this close to an angel or star before. Here, closeness was only felt toward God.
No one felt close, or attached, to anyone else. Yet he now felt very close to this small creature. Inside him, a new realm, one other than God, was formed around this creature who seemed ready to accept his will, yet was separate from him. It was as if Adam had become disconnected from the Divine Order.
Turning to the sky, he asked himself, “What is it?” Lightning instantly scorched some large crystal scriptures. But there was no answer. Then he looked around and noticed that the animals that normally flocked around him, wandered near his feet, and slept curled up against his bosom were now moving away from him.
He asked again, “What can it be?” Again, he recalled his entire dream: God was leaning over and smiling at him, his large healing hand covering Adam’s left side. Then, right beside him, he had found this small long-lashed creature, fidgeting, covering herself with her hair, deep in thought.
Adam parted her hair with his hand, looked at her face, and watched her chest, small-sphere-like belly, and pink toes for a long time. Meanwhile, she appeared to be waking up from a deep sleep and peeling her coverings off layer by layer. Again, he turned his eyes to the sky. Again, he asked the source of light. Again, the Peacock Angel moved slightly in its jeweled bowl where it always swam. Again, the large tree tops ignited with terror, and invisible chandeliers were lit everywhere. And, again, there was no answer.
Except, this time, during this show of terror, the two were embracing. The woman’s rose-white face was buried in the man’s chest, and the man’s hands covered her hips. Adam again looked at his hand and the creature moving and trembling under it. Then he asked her:
“Who are you?”
“It’s me, a part of you.”
“Yes, but what are you?”
She snuggled against him without answering. She didn’t have much appetite to know more. She was a part of him.
Next, they heard multitudes of wings rustling above and saw many flights sifting glimmering lights over their heads. These were the angels. Glowing like glittery jewels and constantly shifting appearances, they were watching them. They looked so astonished that they had even forgotten to offer gratitude to God by counting their prayer beads. Adam asked them who the creature was. They answered:
“Mirror of Loneliness.”
As if nothing had changed in him, Adam protested:
“I am not alone; I am with you…”
“From now on, you are separate from us… You are alone. And this is the Mirror of Loneliness.”
And, they all laughed grudgingly at these new arrivals who were no longer in God’s image.
Then Adam turned to the Mirror of Loneliness again and took her in his arms. He gazed at her, studying her at length. Just like he had so thirstily drunk from the first spring he’d come upon after arriving at Serendib, he looked at Eve, unable to get enough of her.
How beautiful, warm, and capable of replacing everything else she was! With her face half-hidden in his chest, squinting eyes watching him, and shy look, she appeared to be above everything else. Her small hands explored, clumsily and timidly wandering along his body.
Adam was getting to know his body differently. It was as though, through these small touches, his body was dividing into distinct sections of pleasure and sorrow, whistling with various sounds like a saz. Eternity was bathing in her squinting green eyes. Her face was as beautiful as the jewelled bowl in which the Eternal Peacock bathed.
The moment this thought crossed his mind, Adam realized that he would never experience the first stage of creation again. He looked up. Only the sun, the moon, and the stars were in the sky. Some were sparkling, coming and going in their colorful orbits; some shone fixed in their places, like Eve’s electric-blue eyes. Adam could see their continuously widening orbital glows.
But, the jeweled bowl in which the Peacock Angel swam, the first spark of creation, the first drop of eternal light, and the first vision were not there. He couldn’t see Him! Whereas the others, the angels filled with astonishment and divine pleasure, flying as they offered gratitude to God by counting their prayer beads, could see Him.
They raced through the air toward Him; when they got so close they almost scorched their wings, they flew away like particles of colorless ash. Then they would again don their jeweled garments and fly toward Him, because He was the first reflection of and the first drop of enlightenment!
Adam would never see Him again. Filled with grief, he bowed his head to hide his tears from the angels. Eve, sensing Adam’s sorrow, pulled his head toward her chest. Then, among the Garden of Eden’s wide-leafed plants, large Jonas trees, and purple roses, Adam felt completely different. Against Eve’s chest, everything was forgettable. Every pain could cease on that soft and scented pillow. There, every grief could dissipate.
But Adam was afraid. The fear of the unknown had coiled itself up inside him. He was sleeping on a pillow that was born of his own body. His teeth chattering, he repined, “Perhaps I will never see God with his usual face again.”
He felt a strong wind blowing through his spine and shivered with a strange fever. He was ashamed that he’d lost the highest-ranked angel. Perhaps the other angels knew this and were watching him from above, feeling sorry for him; or perhaps, they were despising him as “the child of earth.”
To avoid seeing or thinking about this, Adam moved his body closer and closer to Eve’s, imploring her, “Hide me… Hide me…” He wanted to bury his head and entire body into Eve’s night more and more. And, in exchange for what he had lost, Eve was giving her entire body to him; she was finding more and more nights in her body where he could hide, trying to comfort him in her most secluded night.
A howling noise woke them. Their heads separated. They looked around with an unfamiliar taste on their lips. They were not alone anymore; they didn’t do anything alone. Their every move evoked a response in the other.
Then a black spot appeared in the sky, widening as it got closer. Their eyes fixed on this black circle; they wondered what it could be.
The angels around them hastily fled, their wings wilted, their usual shine lost, looking as if they had just woken up and had arrived from great depths. They looked fazed and kept behind a threshold they knew they could not cross. They watched the approaching circular black smoke from there. Pushing his shame aside, Adam asked them, “What’s happening? What is this?”
An angel passing by yelled angrily, “Fate just woke up!”
Another one laughed enviously. “Be happy, earth’s children! Your era is starting.”
All animals in the garden of Abiding Desires cringed along one side. The birds that usually sang of Eternity’s joy fell silent, and Symbols as manifestations of the Divine Secrets began to sweat. Large trees drooped their necks, and colorful flowers dimmed their lights; they were collapsing on themselves to avoid seeing the dark cloud rolling closer and closer.
Only Adam and Eve looked at it, mesmerized. They watched the black avalanche, the growing darkness, the unknown that almost turned everything into ashes with a strike; they observed how it was approaching, rolling in circles. This had started with them…
This was Fate, whose meaning they did not yet know, but whose name they recognized. The range of possibilities kept far away from the Garden of Eden, imprisoned in great darkness.
This was the one-and-only secret and tale of this realm of abiding desires as imagined by God!
Finally, the large circle arrived and stopped in front of Adam and Eve. They looked at it fearfully. Adam, kneeling on the Garden of Eden’s lush plants that had suddenly withered, was, on the one hand, looking at it with eyes widened in fear and, on the other, holding Eve in his arms, as if he wanted to protect her.
At first, as if both their inner and outer eyes had gone blind, they couldn’t see anything. Then the black circle shone like the surface of polished ebony, where they saw their reflections, together, as they had been a little earlier.
Then they saw the Earth. Next, they saw the Garden of Eden, the large origin of everything, and other secrets of eternity, such as flowers glowing like jewels, strange windless trees, and other different kinds of flowers and trees.
And they saw different animals wriggling among plants, jumping, moving, hunting, feeding their young as well as numerous kinds of birds. They saw exuberant streams, larger somber rivers, rampantly flowing floods, smoky mountaintops, green plains, and fields that had turned yellow.
Then they saw the sea, its waves reaching up to the sky during stormy weather, its foams conducive to small flurries’ numerous imaginary games, the back-and-forth movements of foams on pearl-colored sandy beaches and its many different faces.
They saw the wreckage of Judgment Day, starting with small huts and expanding toward cities, the destitution and boredom of large, bright palaces, and they tasted the modesty, patience, and silence of the homes of the poor. They saw herds, under the night’s golden dust, returning to their shelters, lions watering at dusk, bull snakes wrapping their coils around large tree trunks, and bees filling rock cavities with honey. They also gazed at various fruits.
Next, Day and Night came before them. White doves were flying near Day’s head. In Night’s eyes, unfamiliar birds roosted; around its waist was a black atlas decorated with stars, its body was relaxed from the comfort of rest.
Following them were robust and carefree Youth, anxious and wretched Old Age, and black Death. The parade of seasons followed. They untied their sashes and offered Adam and Eve gifts from their baskets. Thus, everything — an entire life — passed before their eyes.
Adam’s forehead wrinkled with sorrow and he filled with a strange fear. But Eve was full of joy. Her belly was shining like a sun from happiness and pride. When Adam saw this, he forgot his fears and sadness. He kissed this “secret of creation,” this “comb of possibilities” shining like the sun; the more he kissed her, the more confident he grew looking at Fate’s mirror.
Then they both heard God’s voice that grew in Adam’s heart like a large chinar, shone like a rose on Eve’s face, and spread like a water lily on her belly. God said to them, “May your journey be safe, greetings and blessings to Earth and Humankind.”
And the voice continued:
“The gardens of Charity and Malevolence, Pleasure and Grief, Love and Death are yours. May our grace and salvation be with Earth and Humankind.”
And the voice continued:
“I created you in my image. I bestowed upon you the Earth, the Moon, the Stars, and the Sun. I made you the master of Life and Death. May our grace and salvation be with Earth and Humankind.”
And God shouted these words from within them three times. On the first, the Garden of Eden flew upward and over Adam and Eve’s heads, like a tent suddenly taking off over the head of a tired traveler during a storm in the desert. Astonished, they shivered in emptiness.
On the second, it enveloped them like thick, circular black clouds. They realized they had fallen prisoners to Fate.
On the third, following God, the angels shouted all together:
“Mercy to Earth and the Holy Spirit. God’s grace and salvation are on Earth and Humankind. Mercy to Earth and the Holy Spirit.” And all together, they prostrated themselves.
And this is how Holy Ghost bade farewell to Humankind. The black circle moved in its place like a ship and ascended through terrible darkness broken only by the lights of stars still searching for their destinations. They passed though large winds and hurricanes of stars.
They jumped from terrifying depths. Through all this darkness, Adam took refuge in Eve’s body. He gazed at a light resembling a narcissus as Eve nestled in his arms. They were both elated in taking their love that God had blessed to Earth.
Then, suddenly, they couldn’t see each other. And the sorrow of their separation sank deep within. Adam yearned for Eve’s pearl-like teeth, rose-leaf face, carefree forehead’s mystery, warm breath, and white arms.
Eve missed the strength of Adam’s arms and his fears and agony that had helped form his identity. As soon as they felt this devastating torment within themselves, at an hour of the night when their loneliness had peaked due to the shining stars, which they were not used to seeing from afar, they found themselves on Earth.
Eve was near a well in Yemen and Adam on top of a mountain peak in Serendib. Eve was wondering how to search for Adam, and Adam was desperately seeking Eve.
They simultaneously called out for one another. Their cries rose toward the stars, intertwined.
“Eve, Eve…”
“Adam, Adam…”
And many different kinds of animals filling the Earth were startled upon hearing this noise for the first time; large eagles abandoned their prey and flew away, predatory animals hid their heads among the bushes, beasts that lived during the first stage of creation, resentful about losing their status as masters of the earth, searched for corners in which to die.
And the reciprocal cries continued.
Eve called out and Adam walked.
Adam called out and Eve waited for him by her well.
And as the Earth, hungry for human voice, listened to these calls, it kept changing and warming.
Ahmet Hamdi Tanpınar (1901–1962) was a Turkish poet, novelist, literary scholar and essayist, widely regarded as one of the most important representatives of modernism in Turkish literature. He was a professor of aesthetics, mythology and literature at the University of Istanbul. Although he died 60 years ago, his writing and poetry remains very popular. His novel The Time Regulation Institute is considered one of the best novels in Turkish literature. With this novel, Tanpınar became one of the two Turkish novelists whose works became Penguin Classics.
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