The Forty Rules of Love: A Novel of Rumi

A must read for anyone who is living or not living their true life. If you think you know what love is, read this book. If you have no idea what love is, read this book. You will be forever changed.

The question is not "Is this a good book?" The question is "Are you good enough to read it?" I did not so much read The Forty Rules of Love as I marveled at the artistry of its construction and, I admit, as I turned the pages I congratulated myself on my ability to recognize that artistry. To hold this book between your hands and read it is to be in the presence of a master storyteller who has an important, possibly the most important, story to tell: the story of Love and how it manifests in this world. Elif Shafak, a writer famous for her novels in Turkish, wrote this book in English - flawlessly, beautifully, lucidly. Her use of the English language in its American variant reflects a masterful cultural sensibility. The book gains credibility by the use of cultural references that could only be known to and have meaning for cultural insiders. For example, a convert to Islam is said to have done so "after Kareem Abdul Jabbar and before Cat Stevens." The use of phrases such as "right as rain" and "talk the talk" indicates that Shafak does not use English as she was taught in school; she writes English as it is absorbed from years of deep conversation, wide reading and intense observation. As a true daughter of Turkey and lover of Istanbul, Elif Shafak is a bridge between East and West. Europe and Asia, Orient and Occident, reason and emotion, head and heart, scholar and mystic, left and right half of the human brain: to the materialist these are distinct entities and are doomed to endless conflict. Elif Shafak patiently assures us that, in the end, there is no difference. Running through her book like a leitmotif is the soothing and confident confirmation that dualism is an illusion and oneness is reality. All stories, characters, and plots tell of the struggle to realize truth and return once again to the state before knowledge of good and evil caused eviction from paradise. At one point in the novel the 13th century poet Rumi visits a tavern in Konya to teach and learn from its inhabitants. He says, "At the end of the day whoever wants to drink will drink and whoever wants to stay away from wine will stay away. We have no right to impose our way on others. There is no compulsion in religion." I love the way Elif Shafak slipped my favorite quote from the Qur'an (La iqraha fi din: There is no compulsion in religion, Sura 2, Line 256) into the story without reference. Muslims will know the quote and realize that it adds authority to Rumi's point. But those who are unaware that this is a Qur'anic quotation will receive the teaching fresh and pure, as if this is a new and fanciful notion of a novelist who merely wishes to bring harmony from conflict. That is what great art does: it brings harmony from conflict. Ultimately, there is only one book with one message. Each author writes that one book to explain that one message for a different audience so that all may learn and know about the primacy of love and the unity of humanity. Some books distinguish themselves and rise above the mass of others by the sheer quantity of light, truth, and goodness they convey. Mikhail Naimy's The Book of Mirdad is one example. The Forty Rules of Love is another. One sure way to tell whether a work of art is great, any work of art - a book, a film, music, painting, is whether it moves you to tears. I burst into tears on page 172, but that does not mean you will do the same. Each person will be moved by something different. It is the ability to touch the heart and stir the deepest emotions that makes a work of art powerful and beautiful and valuable. This book has that ability. There is nothing more to say.

I loved this book which had alternating storylines in 2017-18 in Boston, and in the thirteenth century in the Middle East. Rumi’s poetry has always moved me with it’s beauty and mystery. This is the story of Rumi and his Sufi guide. The other main character, living in this century, is a woman book editor who is disillusioned with her life and falls in love with a Middle Eastern author whose book she’s reviewing. There were many beautiful quotes from Islam and allegories that provided spiritual guidance to those searching.

Ella is unhappily married when she obtains a position as a reader for a literary agency. Her first assignment is to read and report on a manuscript titled Sweet Blasphemy by an amateur writer. It is about Rumi, a poet and a spiritual leader in the history of Islam, who is also an unconventional dervish full of scandals and surprises. As she reads about his transformation, it sets her on her own revolution. Turkey, 13th century. Following God’s guidance, Shams of Tabriz, a wandering dervish, embarks on an inner journey of Love by traveling to Baghdad to fulfill his destiny to pass on his knowledge to another person. His journey takes him farther to Konya where he meets a respected scholar named Rumi. Shams sees the suffering of ordinary people and questions if Rumi sees them or if he is one of those scholars who fail to see those suffering “while sitting in their ivory towers.” Shams puts Rumi through “trial and tests, states and stages, each of which make Rumi look more deranged in the eyes of even his most loyal followers.” But Rumi understands a purpose of all that and it’s a purpose to serve him to become a better person. “Shams deliberately fanned the flames of gossip, touched raw nerves, and spoke words that sounded like blasphemy to ordinary ears, shocking and provoking people, even those who loved him.” Their story is intertwined with secondary characters whose sufferings enforce the powerful message of the story which is loving oneself first, to be connected with the One, to mirror what we expect in return. Everything serves a purpose. Behind all hardships there is a larger scheme. There is a group of loving supporters of Rumi and there are those who despise him. A leper questions “Why was God so unfair? To me He had given poverty, sickness, and misery. To Rumi, riches, success, and wisdom.” Why? The 13th century story is a testament to author’s incredible knowledge to weave such story with so much wisdom, wisdom you can reflect on. And it also proves the author’s incredible talent for writing, weaving seamlessly the knowledge with all the characters. Touching story, engrossingly imagined and beautifully written. P.S. I’m one of those readers for whom modern timeline doesn’t work within historical fiction; however, most of this story is set in the 13th century.

It has been a pleasure to encounter such a treasure. I was suggested to read this one day while having a conversation with a Friend, during an unlikely encounter, that gave Me a new insight on the idea of being in love again. I have been through many turbulent relationship, from parents, siblings and lovers, abandoned by those I plead my own loyalty to, so my path seems that of a Dervish. Forever wandering and spreading what has been shown to Me as ONENESS becomes more natural than just simple idolatry. I am in love with the woman that introduced this 😍 masterpiece to Me, yet, She has never experienced what I, for so long, have been avoiding. Many Blessings to those that take this journey. - Morgano (ME)

To begin with, I have always had great respect and affection for Rumi and Shams, and I am quite familiar with Rumi’s works, not only his poetry but his correspondence together with the history and stories of his life. That is probably why I have conflicting feelings about this novel. On the one hand, the author has done great service to make Rumi, Shams, and their specific mysticism more familiar to the Western World, while offering a version of Islam that is exalted and very different from today’s Islamists. On the other hand, the author’s attempt at inserting a contemporary love story and making it mirror Rumi’s story, however with good intentions, took away from my enjoyment of the book. Especially likening Aziz to Shams in a few places, even though Aziz himself denied it to Ella at the end, felt like disrespect to Shams and Rumi’s lofty spiritual idealism to me. The thirteenth-century story--that is Rumi’s and Shams’-- is quite correct, and thankfully, very little fictionalizing has been done to it. Most of the fictionalizing show itself in secondary and supporting characters. The interweaving of Ella’s story into Rumi’s story gave me something like small electrical jolts together with disbelief because from my point of view, the contemporary story either needed to be left out or developed much better. On top of that, Aziz is not a Shams and Ella is not a Rumi, not by a long shot. For me, these two stories do not illuminate or relate to each other at all. Having said all this, I did like the author’s handling of the supporting characters such as Suleiman the Drunk, the Zealot, and the Desert Rose. Within the small confines of these characters’ roles, the author succeeded in giving them many sides and conflicting characteristics. The story is told in the first person from the viewpoint of many characters, which I didn’t mind and even liked. Generally speaking, this author handles her characters quite masterfully by evoking empathy or sympathy in the readers Especially the historical sections are written with skill and accuracy. The dialogues in Ella’s story felt dull and not very credible, maybe because I couldn’t wrap my head around the believability of the entire contemporary plot sections. The dialogues in the thirteenth-century story felt more authentic. As to the plot weaving, thirteenth-century story’s plot shines probably due to the author’s minute attention to the original histories of the main and secondary characters. Yet, Ella’s story’s plot that takes place our time is a much inferior one, and probably that is why its mirroring Rumi’s story is a letdown. As a reader, I would have enjoyed Rumi and Shams’ story more if Ella’s story were to be taken out of the book.

I have studied mysticism literature before in several different forms -- novel, autobiography and self-instruction. Mysticism is a difficult concept for nearly everyone in the Western world where thinking is dominated by causal analysis and problem solving. Sometimes authors in the novel form have not understood mysticism very well and have drifted off into magical thinking -- e.g. the Celestine Prophecy that was popular some years ago. Mysticism is not about magic. Shafak has no such problem. I found 40 rules to be very engaging. The book is much easier to grasp than "The Cloud of Unknowing," much greater depth than "Franny and Zooey," and much more engaging than "The Way of a Pilgrim." The Sufi-dervish tradition from the 13th century is very different from the Christian mysticism that was occurring at the same time. Christian mysticism seems much more inward than the expression of Shams. Consider how someone praying the rosary is focused. Consider Julian of Norwich who is a hermit/anchoress and as isolated from the world as she can be. Conversely, Shams must live in the world to see God's vision as it is expressed in each individual and to learn to love that vision of God in each of their lives. The story of Shams is the most interesting line of the story and better conceived than Ella's story. Unlike some other reviewers, however, I can readily be convinced that a "boring housewife" can have a dramatic conversion experience over a period of several months. Shafak lets us see this through the lens of "many emails" a few of which are actually represented in the story. The lens is a bit too narrow for most of us. I think it would help these readers to write each of the 40 rules on a note card as it is reported. Then read the rule at least 2-times a day for a week. This is a start at the kind of discipline a mystic or someone becoming a mystic would employ. Disciplined practices have a way of changing how we behave. And, yes, I do believe in behavioral psychology as well, but I find a spiritual approach to be even more helpful.

This work is a very peaceful and inspiring read, and yet a bit confusing in its carelessness. It is a bit jarring to be reading accounts from characters from the 13th century who use idioms from 19th or 20th century, for example, bright eyed and bushy tailed. There are errors in the timeline of events. One character who spends a week in bed and then another week and so on, but later describes things that happened within ten days, not weeks. It could be because the character writing this work is a novice or is it because the true author and editor are careless? It really shouldn't matter but then I have to wonder what else they might have been careless about when it comes to understanding historical events or the elements of the mysticism the author wants to convey. It has definitely left me wanting to read and learn more about Rumi and Sufi beliefs, but using my own prism, not the author's.