What would he have thought of the first woman I´d ever slept with?

  The Red-Haired Woman, Part II ends with a new character unveiled, notwithstanding before that Mr. Pamuk gives us texts like

«It was the father´s remorse for killing his son —the unbearable guilt and shame that conquers us the very moment we realize we have destroyed something beautiful and infinitely precious...»

  I, however, remain surprised by the action of the protagonist of leaving Master Mahmut abandoned inside the well. Up to now it´s the only weak point in the book. I know every novel, every film, every play has a kind of pact between the plot and the reader, the spectator; in this case it seems me an action like what made by Cem that it isn´t fit with the protagonist´s psychology.

  In this part, Mr. Pamuk manages to take advantage of his main character and uses his mouth for speaking about politics, for example when he watches the Ilya Repin´s painting Ivan the Terrible and His Son in the Moscow´s Tretyakov Gallery and says Stalin liked Ivan the Terrible. They´re two of a kind.

  Writes the protagonist that the scene of the fight between Oedipus and his father it doesn´t painted in Europe; whereas in Orient there are numerous images of the father killing his son. Only Ingres dared with the matter in his Oedipus and the Sphinx, but in a soft way. (He forgets a dramatic painting by Goya, Saturn Devouring His Son. He forgets the impressive Saturn by Rubens. Also he forgets the horrific Saturn by Tiepolo, apart from many others; although in these images there isn´t possibility of fighting because one of them is an adult and the other one a child).

  You can see what his game is. I love the beautiful Silvana Mangano, the red-haired Silvana Mangano, too. And I loved the Oedipus Rex by Pasolini and that reddish landscape, with nothing common place with a luxuriant eastern Eden.

«As a child, I had idolized him, always desperate to enjoy a little more of his time, to talk to him, to have him pick me up in his arms and tease me...»

  I know how this feeling is. And using a borrowing expression from the book, I can put myself in his shoes. My father spent almost whole the time between his job and the trade union as I said previously.

  The fact that children are the ones that most need the father is an idea of Freud and Mr. Pamuk confirms it in this paragraph

«...he raised his sturdy arms to lift me out of the water like a kitten, nestling my head against his chest or in the crook of his neck...»

  There is nothing safer than a father´s chest.

  As I don´t want to spoil the novel I´m going to finish this second part with a rousing question: Is that why you left me here, so that I would be modern?

  From my Borstal.

  LDR