THE VIRGIN'S KNOT

Straddling Europe and Asia, Turkey has always been situated at the crossroads of history, influenced by the past, folk tales and the beliefs of peoples who passed through on their way to somewhere else. Payne sets her vigorous debut novel at mid–20th century, when the country was slowly becoming a republic. But for people like Nurdane—the motherless cripple who is the young virgin of the title and lives in the isolated village of Mavisu—fear, hunger and patriarchal rule still dominate life. Polio has ruined Nurdane's legs, but it is believed that so long as her hands remain pure, Allah will speak through them. She has knotted hundreds of prayer rugs and, cruelly, matrimonial dowry rugs so renowned that merchants and thieves seek them out. Nurdane is weary and skeptical of this mixed blessing, curious about the outside world as represented by Antalya, the city where her cousin studies and her friend once heard a famous singer. Payne has several stories to tell, and although she finally draws together the threads, some of the characters and themes are dropped for too long. The descriptions—lamb's blood sizzling into a fire, a merchant and a scholar wordlessly evaluating each other—are cinematic. The 22-year-old Nurdane's struggle for self-definition is compelling, but Payne interrupts the narrative with exposition too often and overcomplicates an already intricate plot. Early on, when asked when a particular rug will be finished, Nurdane says, "A rug is never truly finished. Is it?" Anyone who has spent hours studying the intricacies of a kilim would agree with that statement as metaphor, but will wish it weren't quite so well suited to Payne's densely woven novel. (July)