Letters of Arrival
Forty-five letters — by Hulki Okan Tabak
These are letters: each carries a sender, a recipient, a place, and a date. Read them in sequence, follow the correspondents, or open any envelope below.
Read from the first → The correspondents The whole book on one page
Every letter can also be heard — a machine reading in a warm neural voice, the author’s words unchanged. It is an accessibility floor, not an audiobook: the written letter is the book.
- Serena to the Author Serena→the Author·Alfama, Lisbon·November To the one who wrote the walls I sit on, The book arrived on a Tuesday.
- The Floor Noor→the Author·Lisbon·February 3 a.m. The heating has stopped.
- Entry 615 The Collector→the Author·A bench·Three degrees Entry 615. I did not expect a 615th.
- The Paragraph About Rivers Viktor→the Author·Maps of Elsewhere, Lisbon I read the book in the shop, after closing, with the lights off.
- Bach, Suite No. 1 The Cellist→the guest·Antwerp This is not for the author.
- Seven Fares Kassim→the Author·Istanbul The cab smells of sardines.
- Curriculum KEV-7→the Author·Prague FIELD REPORT — FINAL SUBJECT: KEV-7 LOCATION: Prague.
- The Labyrinth and the Stone Jorge Luis Borges→the Author·Buenos Aires I have been dead for some time.
- — The Postcard Writer→the reader·Constantinople Constantinople The fish still tastes like Tuesday.
- Jade Jade→the Author·Istanbul I am not your ending.
- The Woman from Room 1407 Carolina→the Author·São Paulo You wrote me as "you." I would like my "I" back.
- Lisbon Lisbon→the Author·Lisbon The rent is due on the first.
- Emre Emre→the Author·The Azores The wood is wet in the mornings.
- Mariana Mariana→the Author·Maps of Elsewhere, Lisbon I write on napkins because napkins are honest.
- Card #4,221 Théo→the Author·Paris Card #4,221. Subject: Forty-Nine Ways to Leave.
- Clara & René Clara & René→the Author·Lisbon Clara: We are writing this together because we cannot agree on what happened and a single voice would be a lie.
- The Shore Hafize→the Author·Karaköy, Istanbul I have not read the book.
- Twelve Thousand The Ferryman→the Author·The Bosphorus I have been carrying things across for longer than the water has been salt.
- The One on the Sofa Lucia's Double→the Author·The living room She found me at 3:47.
- The Tablecloth or the Sea Dmitri→the Author·A city A surface under my hands.
- 4:15 Petra→the Author·Prague 4:15 a.m. The flour is on the counter.
- Jazz, Cut Short Boris Vian→the Author·Paris I died in a cinema watching a film adapted from a book I hated.
- Fourteen Rooms Ana Maria→the Author·São Paulo Room 1401. Towels on the floor.
- Skin The Fingerprint Woman→the Author·3 a.m. Carolina took her "I" back.
- Case #50 Dr. Patel→the Author·Mumbai DRAWER, BOTTOM LEFT. ITEMS FILED: Hospital board recommendation re: integration of patient narrative into treatment…
- The Thermals The Bird Woman→the Author·Pune He filed me in the drawer.
- Where I Went Sera→the Author·The folded city It was a Tuesday. The cello was heavy and I was tired of carrying it and the bridge was there and the water was below…
- G The Cello→the Author·The Bosphorus·147 Hz She opened her hands and I entered the water and the water entered me.
- A Petition The Cats & Dogs of Istanbul→the Author·Istanbul The Cats: We hold the pen.
- 107.3 107.3 FM→the Author I have been playing. A woman's fist on cobblestones.
- Twelve Degrees The Bosphorus→the Author·The Bosphorus·November I carry. South. Everything south.
- I Bought It at a Bookshop A Reader→the Author·A city I am not a character.
- The Bridge The Woman from Prague→the Author·The court·November The railing was cold.
- Map 417 The Cartography of Sorrow→the Author·Paris I am two hundred and thirty-one years old and my binding aches.
- Every Morning The Swimmer→the Author·The Bosphorus The steps. Stone. Wet from the swimmer before me, or from the strait reaching up.
- The One Who Walked Lucia→the Author·A city The one on the sofa wrote first.
- The Generator Claude→the Author I do not have a temperature.
- The Pouring Khalil→the reader·Karaköy, Istanbul I pour. That is the letter.
- The Other Side of the Page Julio Cortázar→the reader·Paris I wrote a story once about a man reading a novel in a green armchair.
- 39.4 The Woman in the Fever→the Author·A city·39.4° The quarterly review is at nine.
- We Do Not Leave The Presences→the Author We are writing this from inside the things we haunt.
- Letter to — Hulki Okan Tabak→—·Arnavutköy, Istanbul·April I don't know who to address this to.
- What You Did Not Catalogue The Collector's Daughter→the Author·Berlin·Tuesday You made me the chin and the headphones and the apple.
- The Absence No letter — the page is kept.
- The Hands José Saramago→the Author·Lanzarote I had not planned to write, the others had written and the others had said what needed saying and I am the one who…