I wish there were words to express the different shades of love. Saying that I loved this book sounds so banal and somewhat cliché. You love a book, you love a cup of coffee, you read the book, you drink the coffee and voila! You move on to something else. Impossible! I could not stop thinking about Neslishah and her extraordinary destiny.
Neslishah, with her beauty and character, is a woman that you cannot forget. A mere glimpse at her and you know who she is. Born on February 4, 1921, Princess Neslishah Osmanoglu, the granddaughter of the last Ottoman sultan, Vahideddin, and the last caliph, Abdulmecid Effendi, was the last Ottoman princess whose name was recorded in the register of the Ottoman dynasty before Ottoman rule was abolished on Nov. 1, 1922.
“It is not only one of the first detailed biographies of a member of an imperial ruling family whose empire had been terminated, but it also illuminates the history of the Middle East, and in particular of the Egyptian royal family. And it is the story of the last Ottoman sultan, the last caliph, and their families, and in a way the sequel to my book ‘Sahbaba,’ first published in 1998,” explains Murat Bardakci, a Turkish journalist and historian, who is also the author of several books on the Ottoman imperial family.
Neslishah was only three when she left Istanbul on March 11, 1924 with her mother, Sabiha Sultan, the youngest daughter of Sultan Vahideddin, and her sister, Hanzade. Sultan Vahideddin was the first to leave. When the sultanate was abolished, he lost his empire and his throne, and he left for San Remo. In his memoirs, he said: “We did not run away. We took the Hijra of the Prophet as an example when he moved from Makkah to Madinah and we left with the intention to return.”
One hundred and fifty-five members of the Ottoman family were obliged to leave the country. Many of the older members of the family were not aware of the gravity of their situation and believed they would be called back. Other members such as Sabiha Sultan, Neslishah’s mother, were more realistic. They knew that a return from exile was impossible and they would be facing difficult years abroad.
Sabiha Sultan immediately understood the significance of this historic change. In her unpublished memoirs she wrote: “Today is the day of the foundation of the republic. Our family has done its duty and passed on … The empire was (a) different era, but it belonged to the Turks just as today’s republic belongs to the Turks.”
Neslishah followed her mother’s example. She rarely spoke to the press. She believed that the Ottoman dynasty was part of history and the Ottomans living in Turkey should not seek to become celebrity socialites. She strongly criticized this kind of attitude as both undignified and not in conformity with the Ottoman tradition.
Neslishah had only blurred memories of the night they left Turkey for Switzerland. However, as she rarely went out, traveling on a train was an adventure and she remembers racing up and down the train’s narrow corridors with her cousins. Three days later, Sabiha and her daughters were greeted at the station by her husband Omar Faruk Effendi, whose father was now the caliph Abdulmecid Effendi.
The caliph and his entourage lived in denial not realizing the profound political changes which had taken place in Turkey. They firmly believed that they would eventually be called back. Sabiha was already worrying about the outstanding expenses they were paying at the Grand Hotel. In a letter she wrote to her husband’s aide de camp, she complained that “Switzerland is today one of the most expensive countries and the Grand Hotel is highway robbery.”
Abdulmecid left with his family for Nice where he settled into the Villa Xoulces. But the relationship between the caliph and his son were difficult and Omar Faruk Effendi decided to live in a separate house in which Sabiha contributed to the purchase.
Their new home was a large apartment in the Prince de Galles building not far from the caliph’s house. Neslishah remembers that they lived a simple and quiet life.
“Most of the imperial princesses had no idea of what was going on in the world. They had spent their whole lives enclosed in palaces and mansions, having no contact with the outside world. My mother, for instance had never seen unpeeled potatoes before her expulsion from Turkey. The first time she saw a cauliflower in the kitchen she thought it was a flower! Later on, my mother learned quite well what life was all about, but the older princesses were incapable of doing so.”
Neslishah also remembers a funny anecdote: “Lunch was always at midday and dinner at seven-thirty. There were two sittings in the dining room. At the first sitting, my grandfather and my grandmother would sit opposite each other — his secretary Huseyin Nakib Bey, my aunt Durrushevar and I were also at the table. There were always flowers in the middle of the table. Now and then my grandmother, without my grandfather noticing, would make these bouquets larger and larger for the following reason: My grandmother was rather plump and suffered from diabetes, but her appetite was quite voracious. The doctors would advise her to eat less and to diet, but she would not listen. She pretended to eat the diet food that was specially prepared for her, because she was afraid of her husband, but hiding behind the flowers, she also ate what was cooked for us.”
Neslishah’s father entertained a lot and the allowance he received from his father was spent on constant dinner parties. Her mother could no longer make ends meet: “We wore the sweaters that my mother would knit for us … there were times when my skirt would be torn, and at school I would wear it back to front to conceal the hole.”
Neslishah was taught more at home than in school. “I was told that to be a princess is a profession, and for years they taught me this at home …The most important among the things that were forbidden was to show weakness. It was considered shameful to show your weakness. You were not allowed to laugh out loud, and if you were to cry it had to be done secretly; no one should see your sadness or your tears.”
Neslishah lived in Nice for 15 years then her father, fearing a war between France and Germany, decided to move his family to Egypt where her mother wished to find suitable husbands for her daughters. They arrived in Alexandria in late 1938.
After Neslishah broke off her engagement to Prince Omar Toussoun, she finally agreed to marry Prince Abdel Moneim, the son of His Highness Khedive Abbas Hilmi. The marriage took place on Sept. 26, 1940. Despite her reluctance to marry Prince Abdel Moneim, Neslishah and her husband were happily married for 40 years. In 1947, Prince Abdel Moneim took Neslishah and her two children on trip to the country that she left when she was three-years-old.
When Neslishah arrived in Istanbul, she did not realize that so many people had come to see her. “I really did not know what to do! Should I wave, should I not? After all, we had come to Istanbul with special permission from the government and I did not want to make a misstep. Then some of the ladies started to cry and of course I cried too … I was crying on one hand and on the other my heart was pounding with excitement.”
One day a reporter asked Neslishah how she learned to speak Turkish so well. “I was truly irritated: ‘I am Turkish, sir,’ I replied. ‘Do not forget that I am a Turkish woman.’”
Neslishah’s mother, Sabiha Sultan, the daughter of Sultan Vahideddin, was the first member of the Ottoman family to return to Turkey. She arrived in Istanbul on August 26, 1952. That same night she wrote: “Such a blessing to be here in Istanbul, my one and only city … I understand her, and she understands me.”
Five years later, Neslishah obtained her Turkish nationality. In the spring of 1959, she and her husband were acquitted of all charges brought against them after the military coup in Egypt. They no longer wished to stay in Egypt. She was destined to be exiled once more. After spending time in Paris, she returned to Istanbul where she lived in from 1964 until her death in 2012.
Book Review: A princess and her extraordinary destiny
Book Review: A princess and her extraordinary destiny

What We Are Reading Today: ‘The Pocket Instructor: Writing’

Editors: Amanda Irwin Wilkins, Keith Shaw
“The Pocket Instructor: Writing” offers 50 practical exercises for teaching students the core elements of successful academic writing.
The exercises — created by faculty from a broad range of disciplines and institutions — are organized along the arc of a writing project, from brainstorming and asking analytical questions to drafting, revising, and sharing work with audiences outside traditional academia.
What We Are Reading Today: ‘The Emperor of Gladness’

- Reading “The Emperor of Gladness” felt like embarking on an emotional journey that resonated deeply with me
Author: Ocean Vuong
As an avid reader, I often search for books that not only tell compelling stories but also touch the depths of my soul.
Ocean Vuong’s “The Emperor of Gladness’ is a book that captivated me in ways I did not expect. From its opening pages, I knew I was in for a transformative experience.
Vuong, a Vietnamese-American poet and novelist, is known for his lyrical and poignant style that explores themes of identity, family, and the immigrant experience.
His debut novel this year follows the success of his award-winning poetry collections, including “Night Sky with Exit Wounds,” which garnered critical acclaim and established him as a significant voice in contemporary literature.
Reading “The Emperor of Gladness” felt like embarking on an emotional journey that resonated deeply with me. Sometimes you do not just read a book; you bleed through it.
Vuong’s lyrical prose enveloped me, drawing me into the intricate lives of his characters. I found myself captivated by their struggles and triumphs, each story reflecting the complexities of identity and family ties.
This is my second five-star book of the year, and the magic of it still lingers, like an unsolved riddle in the back of my mind.
Vuong has a remarkable ability to weave together themes of love and trauma, striking a chord that reminded me of my own experiences searching for belonging.
His vivid imagery made me feel as if I was walking alongside the characters, experiencing their joys and sorrows firsthand.
I was particularly moved by how he portrayed the Vietnamese-American experience, capturing the nuances of culture and the weight of history. Each character felt real and relatable, navigating their paths in a world that can often feel isolating.
What stayed with me long after I finished the book was the tenderness with which Vuong approached his characters. This novel is not just a story; it is an exploration of what it means to be human, to love, and to endure.
Overall, “The Emperor of Gladness” is a beautifully crafted work that left a lasting impact on me. I highly recommend it to anyone who appreciates lyrical storytelling and the exploration of identity.
Review: Aria Aber’s debut novel ‘Good Girl’ marks her as a writer to watch

JEDDAH: In her debut novel “Good Girl,” German-born poet Aria Aber writes a raw tableau of contemporary German society, plunging readers into post-9/11 psyche through the eyes of Nila, a 19-year-old Afghan German girl.
As Nila stumbles through Berlin’s underground techno scene, the city emerges as a character that, like her, is fractured and being forged anew. Berlin seems to be in the throes of struggling to reinvent itself amidst rising Islamophobia and neo-Nazi violence, while Nila’s quest for selfhood emerges in her rebellion against the suffocating expectations imposed on Afghan girls and the identity crisis born out of living in a society that seems suspicious of her presence.
It's a tale as old as the human desire for movement and refuge: Nila is too Afghan for German society, and too German for the Afghan community, with both watching her every move. Aber’s raw and fragmented narrative style mirrors her character’s splintered identity while capturing her “violent desire” to live and her aching need to belong and to be accepted as she is.
Though the novel occasionally stumbles with uneven pacing and moments that may seem repetitive or overwritten, what sets it apart is the author’s refusal to sanitize or sermonize. Nila’s messy, unconventional path to self-discovery remains unapologetically hers.
The emotional core of the novel lies in the tension between expectations placed on girls and the honor-based abuse that simmers beneath. Nila’s parents, progressive by diaspora standards, permit her artistic pursuits and eschew strict traditions. Yet their insistence on a “good girl” image still carries an undercurrent of control that constrains her freedom.
Ultimately, “Good Girl” is a young woman’s howl against a world that demands she shrink, marking Aber as a writer to watch.
What We Are Reading Today: School Shooters by Peter Langman

School shootings scare everyone. They make parents afraid to send their children to school. But they also lead to generalizations about those who perpetrate them.
Most assumptions about the perpetrators are wrong, and many warning signs are missed.
In this book, Peter Langman takes a look at 48 national and international cases of school shootings to dispel the myths, explore the motives, and expose the realities of preventing school shootings from happening in the future, according to a review on goodreads.com.
What We Are Reading Today: ‘Black in Blues’

- The book beautifully delves into how color shapes identity, weaving personal narratives with historical context and cultural commentary
Imani Perry’s “Black in Blues” is a breathtaking meditation on the color blue, revealing its significance in Black history and culture.
This National Book Award winner captivates the heart and soul, leaving readers profoundly moved. After hearing Perry’s interview on National Public Radio, I was immediately drawn in, my curiosity ignited.
Perry’s narrative writing is nothing short of exquisite. She masterfully intertwines her family’s history with the broader tapestry of Black identity through the lens of blue.
While many authors have explored colors in literature, Perry’s exploration feels uniquely resonant, lingering in the mind long after the book is closed. Her writing is lyrical, infused with emotion, and her storytelling is compelling, drawing you into a world rich with experiences and memories.
“Black in Blues” also reveals the powerful correlation between music and the Black experience. This is a work for anyone who seeks to understand the motivations and movements of a vibrant community that has faced adversity yet continues to rise.
The book beautifully delves into how color shapes identity, weaving personal narratives with historical context and cultural commentary.
Perry’s exploration of the color blue becomes a testament to the resilience and creativity of the Black community, illuminating the ongoing struggles for equality and recognition while celebrating the beauty of cultural identity.
In a world that often marginalizes these stories, “Black in Blues” stands as a vital contribution to contemporary discussions on race, art, and history. It’s a compelling read that resonates deeply, inviting all of us to reflect on the complexities of the Black experience in America.
I cannot recommend it highly enough — this is a book that will stay with you, echoing in your thoughts and heart long after you’ve turned the last page.