The forty rules of love

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.

In a local book group where we are discussing the poetry of Jelaluddin Rumi, someone asked if I had read ‘The 40 Rules of Love, a novel of Rumi,’ by Elif Shafak. I invariably read non-fiction, but made an exception. Two parallel stories unfold for the reader and the way Shafak inter-twines them is brilliant. That said, the tale of Rumi and Shams could have been told thoroughly and well without having included the story of Ella. Yet, with its inclusion, it may attract some readers who would not necessarily be drawn to the more substantial tale of Rumi and Shams; thereby serving to educate. The essence of this book is the story of Rumi and Shams, and the ‘rules of love.’ Both Shams and Rumi are passionately drawn to intimacy with God, Love, Oneness; Truth, and the remembrance that everything is God. Shafak sharply captures the colors, smells, sights, sounds, and essence of the characters and times surrounding Rumi and Shams in 13th century, Turkey. Uniquely, each chapter is told from the vantage point of the principle character apparent in the chapter title, thus allowing the reader/observer a ring-side and intimate seat into the thinking of that individual. This certainly adds intrigue. The story of Shams and Rumi is carried out deftly, and the rules of love, such as, “When a true lover of God goes into a tavern, the tavern becomes his chamber of prayer; but when a wine bibber goes in, it becomes his tavern.” So it is that the author speaks truisms, as she sees them, and also feeds the imagination. I would like to believe that this is an historical treatment, mostly, of Rumi and Shams. Certainly, we do not have the cast of key individuals to ask, but this book certainly rests upon some historical research. The story of Ella a 40 year old wife and mother, who becomes increasingly involved with the writer, Aziz, whose narrative of Shams and Rumi, she has been hired to review, is a kind of mildly interesting, if not so believable, novelette. On the plus side for it are ‘the rules of love’ and reflections that foster insight. And although I would not use the character of Ella as a model for life, I can see her as the fictional character she ‘is’ and can see what it is that she chooses that would suit, or not suit my particular life. Therein is the power of this piece for me. I am the author of the memoir, 'Braving Time' published in 2012, by Balboa Press

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.

The Forty Rules of Love is my favorite book ever. If I could give it 1000 stars, I would. This book changed my life—it even brought me and my then ex-fiancé back together after a 2-year breakup. Today, we’re married with two boys, and we named them Rumi and Shams. I’ve bought multiple copies for friends because I truly believe everyone should read it. A deeply meaningful, life-changing book that stays with you forever.

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.

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.

The story is told from the perspective of many characters. Each chapter has a different point of view than the one before. The characters are as diverse as a 13th Century leper in Turkey, and a 21st Century housewife in New England. The author does a fantastic job of writing each of these characters, and at the same time making the overall story coherent. I believe that, ultimately, is one of the main points of the book: we are not isolated beings, we are all part of the whole. The book is largely about the process of spiritual growth. It is a great story and challenges the readers to think about how it applies to their own lives, even when they are done reading. But, as the title says, it is a "novel." It is not a "how-to" book. So, if after reading this, you are inspired to grow spiritually (and most of us could stand to do so more), then there are many actual "how-to" books. I would suggest starting with any book by Thich Nhat Hanh. He was a Zen monk, not a Sufi, but many of the basic spiritual truths are common across all traditions. In fact, some of the stories told in this book are similar to stories told in other traditions. For example, I have read the story of the holy person that carries the woman across a river, in many traditions. As Confuious said, "What I hear I forget, what I see I remember, what I do I understand." If we really want to understand the 40 Rules of Love in this book, we need more than just a quick reading of them, we need to do them.

You can get to know the great Persian poet Rumi, without reading his poems, which are beautiful, yet difficult to appreciate by an ordinary person, who doesn't read poetry. Through simple stories Shafak tells you about his philosophy which brings to the world tolerance, love, acceptance - humanism. And that is great, and that's what I love about the book. The only things that bothers me, is the fact that Shams, the dervish and Rumi's companion, his soulmate, in 'real' life turned out to be such a prick, who behaves quite contradictory to what he preaches. Why did he agree to marry Keira? I just don't understand, and it leaves a bad aftertaste after finishing this otherwise great novel. The other thing that bothers me is the fact how easily Ella leaves her family in pursuit of 'real love'. Is this the love that we should promote? Is this what Rumi taught? We should forgive, but love cannot explain and justify our every action. I agree that nobody is prefect and we should forgive, but there is something like decent behaviour. Did Shams forget about this?

"The Forty Rules of Love", a book gifted with affection and purchased from Amazon India, has become a cherished possession for my girlfriend. This book, penned by the talented Elif Shafak, is a mesmerizing tale of love that transcends the boundaries of time and space. The narrative beautifully intertwines the lives of a modern American housewife and a thirteenth-century poet, Rumi. It is a testament to the transformative power of love, and it has deeply touched my girlfriend. She was moved by Shafak's eloquent prose and the profound wisdom embedded in the forty rules of love. The book has not only entertained her but also enlightened her, making her reflect on the nature of love and life. Her emotions were stirred as she turned each page, living through the characters and their experiences. The book has rekindled her love for reading, making her appreciate the power of words and the emotions they can evoke. She has been lost in its pages, lived through the characters, and emerged with a deeper understanding of love and life. In conclusion, "The Forty Rules of Love" is more than just a book. It is an experience, a journey of love and self-discovery that has left a lasting impression on her. It has been a source of joy, reflection, and inspiration, making it a perfect gift for any book lover.

“The Forty Rules of Love” by Elif Shafak is more than just a story—it’s an experience that lingers long after you’ve turned the last page. It follows Ella Rubinstein, a woman who feels trapped in the monotony of her seemingly perfect life, as she discovers a manuscript that shakes her to her core. Through the story of Rumi and his spiritual guide, Shams of Tabriz, Ella begins to question everything she thought she knew about love, purpose, and the divine. What makes this book so personal is how it speaks directly to the heart. The “forty rules of love” scattered throughout the narrative aren’t just for the characters—they feel like quiet whispers to the reader, nudging you to reflect on your own relationships, beliefs, and the courage it takes to embrace a life of true authenticity. Reading this book feels like embarking on a spiritual journey, one that challenges and uplifts you, leaving you with a sense of wonder about the power of love—in all its forms.

Great 🥰🥳💗

Livro delicioso de se ler, com histórias paralelas muito bem articuladas, todas na primeira pessoa do personagem que está em foco. Uma introdução aos conceitos e aos valores básicos do Sufismo, muito bem apresentada via as 40 Regras do Amor.

Good as anticipated