The Wake

Five hundred years ago, halfway across the world, the eternal flame of romantic love was fueled by poets and artists now forgotten by most. But professor Walter G. Andrews has devoted his career to letting these poets reshape his perceptions of this primal feeling.

On Friday, Nov. 3, I tore across campus on my bike in hopes of making it to the Social Sciences Building’s Ford Room before noon to attend the presentation “Love, Gender, Poetry and Politics during the Ottoman (and European) Renaissance.” I succeeded, but upon entering the David Bowie-esque labyrinth of the 14-story West Bank building, I didn’t find the room until it was too late.

By 12:03 the small conference room was filled to capacity with people from all walks of life. Versed Persian scholars, Turkish language-studying undergrads and Middle Eastern cultural aficionados, among others, were in attendance. Due to the lack of seating space, many of the late arrivals, myself included, settled on the rough carpet.

I entered the room at the tail end of professor Andrews’ introduction.

“I have to admit, I am nervous,” came forth from beneath his frosty-white moustache. Andrews is a kindly, scholarly-looking older man with balding gray hair and glasses. His lean frame is attired in a sophisticated gray suit coat over a black turtleneck. When he speaks, he is noticeably animated and passionate about his field of study. This passion is not unjust, however. Andrews’ expertise is love.

A professor of Ottoman and Modern Turkish Literature at Washington University, Andrews has a collection of published works that just happened to be circulating the audience as he spoke. His most recent book, The Age of Beloveds, uses 16th Century Ottoman poetry and art to explore “cross-cultural parallels in the sexuality, sociology, and spirituality of love in Greater Europe extending from Istanbul to London,” according to Andrews’ personal Web site.

“[Researching Ottoman poetry] brought me face-to-face with my own deficiencies with the idea of love,” Andrews says. The crux of the presentation was about the Ottoman’s concept of the beloved. Poets and artists alike during this age of spiritual rebirth harped on the idea that there were two types of these so-called beloveds: the beloved woman, who typically represents carnality, sex, lust and reproduction, and the beloved boy, symbolizing purity, longing and hopeless, chaste love.

By today’s standards, the Ottoman Empire seems like a hedonistic foreign planet. We are so far removed from their paradigm of cultural ideals that it is almost hard to relate to any aspect of their world. In fact, going into this presentation, my knowledge of this Empire was nearly limited to the belief that it was, “full of furniture for some reason,” as comedian Eddie Izzard would say. When Andrews first mentioned the idea that these “cultural elites” of the Ottoman Empire romantically exalted young boys in their poetry and art I was surprised and confused.

It is no wonder that my initial reaction was skeptical aversion. Our society has rightfully vilified the romantic adoration of young boys; so much so that this vilification has extended to the general perversion of homosexuality.

“These [issues of adolescent male idolatry] didn’t have to do with sex. They had to do with companionship,” Andrews says in a voice that oddly resembles Dana Carvey’s impersonation of George Bush Sr. The cultural elites that created this poetry used these boys to represent a longing for a forbidden love non-existent in this world. This longing trained the heart to love through adoration.

Midway through his presentation, Andrews began illustrating his message through Ottoman art. The paintings were unexpectedly tame in their depictions of the beloved boys. The love represented in these paintings was spiritual and full of life. Music, wine, food and dancing were all employed within the jubilant paintings to illustrate the companionship and intoxication associated with such a love.

“[The Ottomans] would see us as ‘cold people,’” Andrews says with a hint of disparagement. He then proceeded to offer an anecdote in which he described the affectionate relationships of same-sex friends in many parts of the Eastern world. He spoke of a culture less sexually repressed and obsessed with the subversion of social norms.

I could not help but share his covert contempt for the sexually oppressive members of our society. As I exited the room with my Perrier and plate of figs and apricots (fantastic finger foods and refreshments were provided) I couldn’t help but dwell on our modern perceptions of love; both hetero- and homosexual. How arrogant and barbaric it is to say who can love whom?

As I biked home my mind continued racing over the upcoming gay marriage vote in Wisconsin. On a global level, this legislation is a frightening exercise in frigidity on behalf of our fellow Americans. By Ottoman standards we would probably be considered heartless.

If nothing else can be taken from professor Andrews and the Ottoman poets it is this: without a passionate love, the spirit will be cursed to a state of perpetual longing, and to suppress this eternal love would be inhumane.