Praise for Journey to the Edge of Life:
"Gorgeous... Özlüs discursive narrative finds great clarity and beauty."Publishers Weekly
"Reading Özlü becomes meditative, almost trance-like...Özlü has written through her ghosts and memories and past readings, emerging with renewed capacity for life and its shapeless wanderings."Bekah Waalkes, The Los Angeles Review of Books
Slippery, frantic, darkly lyrical seductive. In her dreamlike parade of European cities, abandoned lovers, brooding train trips and existential musings on the desire for total freedom, Özlüs narrator swerves between self-doubt, self-assertion and self-annihilation.The Berliner
"Özlü evokes the writing of Plath and Kerouac in this novel of a Turkish woman's travels across central and eastern Europe in rebellion against the strictures of society... Utterly unique!"Jennifer Ray, Powell's Books (Portland, OR)
Praise for Cold Nights of Childhood:
A profoundly moving account of desperation, exhilaration, and endurance.Kirkus Reviews
In Özlüs posthumous English-language debut, a young woman describes her 1950s childhood and her treatment for mental illness in her 20s. 'All I ever wanted was to be free to think and act beyond the tedious limits set by the petit bourgeoisie,' says the narrator... The edition includes a magnificent introduction from Ayegül Sava, who puts Özlü (19431986) in a lineage with Italo Svevo and Franz Kafka and praises her frank approach to sexuality as 'neither sensational nor metaphorical.'Publishers Weekly, Starred Review
Its uncanny how clearly Özlü speaks of a different time yet, simultaneously, of this moment.The Financial Times
While these facts of Özlüs life story overlap with the events of Cold Nights, the interest of the book is not so much its autobiographical mirror but the way that life is endowed with an electric mutability. Madness, after all, disrupts the temporal narrative. Here, time is broken and reshuffled through the sharp-edge of consciousness. The self is peeled away layer by layer to arrive at its core: 'Then slowly, very slowly, I begin to remember. Myself. This is me. I am twenty-five years old. I am a woman. I am living through the second part of the madness that begins with joy. I have suffered the anguish of lethargy.'Ayegül Sava, author of White on White
