Travellers who describe the countries and peoples of the Middle East have always attracted a wide readership according to Bernard Lewis(1) and travel writing in the twentieth century continued to enjoy popularity. One of the main changes that brought about an increase in the number of travellers in the early decades of the century was the rapid extension of railway networks around the world. The Orient Express, which made its first trip in 1883(2) was described as '"the King of Trains and the Train of the Kings" and in 1920s was christened "The Magic Carpet of the East"'(3).

The conventional mythical train journey that reflected every aspect of life by giving a sense of community with fellow passengers and by allowing casual encounters with strangers, led to a genre of travel thrillers, such as Murder On the Orient Express and accounts of train journeys such as Stamboul Train, Orient Express and La Madone des Sleepings. For Graham Greene train journeys were part of the excitement of holidays and visits to relatives from his childhood, which offered 'all the necessary ingredients of a novel, travel, adventure, suspense and final climax'(4). The popularity of train travel also brought about the establishment of societies and clubs for railway fans such as the Railway Club at Oxford whose membership was composed of well-known literary figures like Evelyn Waugh; and the Travellers' Club in London, whose only requirement for membership was an achievement of travel a thousand miles from London (Abroad, 75-6).

After travel books such as Orient Express (1922) and Twilight in Italy (1916) were presented by the Travellers' Library, Jonathan Cape started to publish travel books in 1926. By 1932 Cape had produced 180 titles with over a million copies in print. The popularity of Wide World Magazine, which first appeared in 1917, also contributed to the recognition of many travel stories, as is pointed out in Greene's Stamboul Train when an elderly clergyman on the Orient Express says: 'I always read a Wide World when I travel' (Abroad, 61).

As far as train travel writing is concerned there appeared a popular example in the second half of the twentieth century, Paul Theroux, author of The Great Railway Bazaar (1975) and The Old Patagonian Express (1979), for whom 'the ideal mode of travel is by train, partly because it affords him enough distractions that he loses touch with his inner self'(5). Theroux does not simply recount his adventures in foreign and familiar places, but also reflects on the meaning of travel and travel writing in his accounts:

Although the train seems to have become less than ideal for the passengers due to the fact that 'a combination of poor service, the cheapness of air-travel and the short-sighted bickering of little countries in full cry killed the Orient Express'(7), it is proposed by various writers such as Paul Theroux as the best setting for mystery, romance and criminal intrigues: In his later travel book, Sunrise With Seamonsters (1985), Theroux draws an overall portrait of the train once more in relation to its different literary and artistic evocations: And he adds that ‘every feature of the train had a novelistic dimension; its route had a plot-like structure; its atmosphere was well-known. It was made for the novel and it matched fiction exactly’ (Seamonsters, 182).

Since the last destination of the train from Europe to Asia is Istanbul, many thrillers and travel books such as The Eunuch of Stamboul (1935), Stamboul Train (1932)(8) and The Great Railway Bazaar (1975) start with the journey to Istanbul, or with its arrival at the Sirkeci Railway Station in Istanbul: 'Two days later, in the broiling sunshine of the mid-afternoon, the Orient Express covered the last stage of its journey to Constantinople'(9). Graham Greene emphasises Istanbul as the final destination in Stamboul Train (1932): 'Constantinople, for many of the passengers the end of an almost interminable journey, approached him with the speed of the flying climbing telegraph-poles' (Stamboul Train, 17).

Among thrillers, Murder on the Orient Express (1959) is probably the best known in building up a skilful combination of the exotic setting and mysterious detective-plot. The story takes place on the train beginning with a professional murder and ends up with the mystery revealed by Christie's archetypal detective Hercule Poirot. Furthermore, the initial effects of suspense in the novel are created in accordance with the moves and stops of the train: 'we have run into a snow drift. Heaven knows how long we shall be here'(10). And this stoppage is limited to the thrilling news of the mysterious murder on the train: 'first this snow-this stoppage... And now a passenger lies dead in his berth-stabbed' (Murder on the Orient Express, 43).

As the Orient Express crosses Europe, it seems to draw a trail of lust, murder and intrigue from Ostend to Istanbul. In Stamboul Train (1932) the mystery starts when the novel introduces some suspicious passengers with bizarre manners and conversation. As the passengers start meeting each other the mystery deepens:

Similarly, Paul Theroux makes use of this kind of conversation on the train in order to increase the suspense in reader's mind: Another aspect of books concerning Turkey is the pejorative depiction of the cities, mainly Istanbul. For example, Prokosch pictures a southern Turkish city, Adana as 'a foul and filthy city full of beggars... Nothing seemed to flourish in Andana [Adana] except mud and the autumn heat and mosquitoes'(11), and describes Istanbul as 'a dying city. Everywhere were dogs. All along the shores stood hideous, empty, unpainted houses' (The Asiatics, 38).

The prevalent reflections of Istanbul(12) as 'a traumatic kind of city'(13) in most writings about Turkey, particularly in popular fiction and travel accounts, seem to be constructed in relation to different historical and religious bias as the imperial city has been the cradle of diverse empires and civilisations such as Roman, Byzantine and Ottoman.

When Ernest Hemingway stayed in Istanbul in the early 1920s as a correspondent he sent letters and dispatches to The Toronto Daily Star. In one of these dispatches, he expresses his discontent with the city of Istanbul:

In another dispatch, he describes the city as a dirty and depressing place as he goes through it by train:
The train passes the old, reddish Byzantine wall and goes into a culvert again. It comes out and you get flashes of squatting, mushroom- like mosques always with their dirty-white minarets rising from the corners. Everything white in Constantinople is dirty white (Ararat, 43).

When a new era in Turkish politics and administration started in the second part of the twentieth century for reasons referred to in previous chapters the country provided an arena for international espionage located mainly in Istanbul and other big cities, and as a natural consequence the number of publications depicting these issues also increased. For example, Paul Bowles sees Istanbul as a proper setting for spy novels ironically referring to some of its negative aspects(15).

Some thriller writers such as Ian Fleming or Eric Ambler, have chosen Istanbul as the setting for stories of crime-intrigue, political espionage, terrorist action, drug-trafficking and military coups. When Ian Fleming went to Istanbul in 1955 he had already read Eric Ambler's classic thriller about the city, The Mask of Dimitrios (1939) and then he drew some negative pictures of the city: ‘Istanbul is a city in decay, the grimy wreck of what was once, unbelievably, the greatest city in the world - Byzantium. It is a shambling, grey, half-forgotten place, neither Europe nor Asia’(16). His subsequent depiction of the city insults the whole country as well as its people when he says that ‘the temper of this sullen city is as raw as the back of one of those Turkish mules which will suddenly lash out against the discomfort and indignity of life is this terrible country’ (The Life of Ian Fleming, 363).

In Istanbul, another recurring name is that of the Pera Palace Hotel, which was built in the European part of the city, and used to be run by minorities or non-muslims during the early decades of the twentieth century. The Pera Palace generally appears as a meeting place in diverse thrillers and travel accounts such as The Eunuch of Stamboul (1935), Stamboul Train (1932), Orient Express (1922), The Journey Into Fear (1966), Among The Cities (1985) and The Great Railway Bazaar (1975).

John Dos Passos stayed at the Pera Palace during his visit to Istanbul in the early 1920s. In Orient Express (1922), he writes about the hotel describing the city of Istanbul from the hotel window, while witnessing an espionage-murder inside the hotel:

When the hero, Swithin Destime arrives in Istanbul in The Eunuch of Stamboul (1935) he is taken to this hotel, and makes his first contact with Tania, the Russian girl, who works for the KAKA - the illegal organisation, in the book stall of the hotel (The Eunuch of Stamboul, 61). As soon as Graham, the representative of the British armaments factory arrives in Istanbul in The Journey Into Fear (1966) he holds his first secret meeting with someone from the Turkish Intelligence at dinner in the Pera Palace(18).

Subsequent to his journey to Istanbul on the Orient Express, Paul Theroux stayed a few days in Pera Palace Hotel, and he describes the decor from a romantic perspective:

Jan Morris describes her first impressions of the famous hotel in a similar way: Apart from Istanbul, the reader may be introduced to some other Turkish cities such as Ankara, Izmir, Antalya, Kars, or villages which are used as settings for poppy planting. The setting varies in accordance with the nature of the action. For instance, where the military coups, revolution attempts or diplomatic conflicts are concerned the setting tends to be the capital, Ankara. Murder With Minarets, Diplomatic Death and Diamonds Bid can be regarded as good examples of this kind as they all take place in Ankara. Other Turkish towns, especially on the border of Russia in the East and Syria in the South provide settings for political conspiracy and terrorist conflict; Hand Out starts with a political murder in Kars, the Turkish town on the Russian border, then the conflict extends down to the South and is finally concluded in Antalya.

While some travellers such as David Dodge discuss the historic value of the country, other writers are unable to conceal their prejudices and tend to compare Turco-Islamic arts or architecture as reflected in the palaces, mosques and minarets unfavourably with Christian churches, sculpture and paintings. On his first observation of the city, David Dodge tries to describe Istanbul with an artistic admiration for both Christian and Turco-Islamic values praising the Santa Sophia (Hagia Sophia or Aya Sofya), which is a Christian architectural masterpiece, and the Blue Mosque (Sultanahmet Cami), a Turco-Islamic one:

Showing a critical or suspicious attitude towards the Turco-Islamic features of the city, Jan Morris remarks that 'the Ottomans built their vast Topkapi Palace, crammed with vulgar jewellery, where the Ladies and Eunuchs of the Seraglio gossiped life away in exquisite pleasure kiosks above the sea' (Among the Cities, 198) while some others seem to present their aesthetic evaluative opinions which are usually expressed as a preference for Byzantine architecture over the Ottoman. For example, Dalrymple compares the architectural features of two diverse cultures, Byzantine and Ottoman: Citing earlier texts about the region such as James Creagh's A Scamper to Sebastopol and Jerusalem (1869) and Armenians, Koords and Turks (1880 2nd. vol.), Philip Glazebrook notes that: 'Heavily decorated baroque minarets hang above the lanes, impending Islamic banners, with something of the menace of old Turkey towards the giaour'(22).

He interprets the Muezzin's call for prayer from the minaret in a humiliating comparison of Islamic culture with western technology:

The comparative picture of Turkey emerges when Glazebrook describes two different Istanbuls: the Istanbul of Turco-Islamic culture and architecture, and Constantinople, seen through Santa (Hagia) Sophia and Pera, the European quarter of the city: 'To me the streets and buildings of Pera looked magnificent. The mighty banks, the stone facades, how imposing and sturdy they were, how European was the severe dark architecture shutting out the sky!' (Journey to Kars, 177).

The former is described as 'less friendly than it used to be. Certain factors - the rise of Islam, a despotic government, decreased tourism - have created in the famous mosques a less warm welcome for Christian tourists than there was a year or two ago' (Journey to Kars, 181). His disappointment about Istanbul, which can be understood from his implicit statement about a specific incident in Istanbul: 'Fences now keep us separate from the Faithful, notices prohibit this and that in sharp tones; we enter very much on sufferance' (Journey to Kars, 181), seems to be due to the fact that he had some difficulty in entering the mosques of the city during prayer time, because of religious or partly security reasons as the country was under marshal law during the early 1980s.

Visiting various Turco-Islamic historical places in Istanbul, he expresses a sense of dissociation and alienation:

 His critical attitude turns into appreciation or even admiration where places featuring western culture such as the Pera district are concerned. His main interest during his stay in Istanbul, following his fascination for the Victorian travellers, is the Pera Palas(23), the hotel where most nineteenth-century travellers who visited Turkey used to stay: ‘When you find that your own idea of perfection in the hotel line is shared by so few, it isn't surprising that there are only a handful of hotels like Pera Palas left round the world’ (Journey to Kars, 175). Despite his discontent with the interior decoration consisting of 'dim lights in huge-looking glasses; huge pictures, huge portraits, enormous palms in brass pots, sofas so uncomfortable and very large' (Journey to Kars, 176), he still perceives some similarities between the historic hotel and his sense of an ideal home, the Victorian country house: Another attraction for Glazebrook is Santa Sophia, the Byzantine church converted into a mosque after the Fall of Istanbul: Apart from a few places such as the Pera Palas and Santa Sophia, his overall perception of the city, even from a tourist's point of view, is quite detrimental: Although he tends to emphasise his awareness of the past of the country and its people Glazebrook’s general perception of Turkey and its people in the early 1980s is not so derogatory as that in many earlier texts, which stressed 'hostility', 'intriguing scene of threat', 'laziness', 'dishonesty', 'false piety' and 'dirtiness' (Journey to Kars, 84).

Rose Macaulay's The Towers of Trebizond (1956), is a typical example of the kind of comparison in which one culture and belief is represented with exaltation whereas the other one is dramatically humiliated. Observing the tough living conditions of Turkish women in the countryside, particularly those working hard on the fields during her long stay in Turkey as a missionary, Rose Macaulay points to a connection between the appalling conditions of Turkish women and Islamic culture: '“Turks”, she said, “won't condone, they won't coexist. And that old-fashioned religion they have will get their women nowhere”'(24). She also adds an explicitly Christian solution: 'There is nothing in the Gospels about women behaving differently from men, either in church or out of it. Rather the contrary. So what a comfort for those poor women to learn that they needn't' (Towers, 20).

Another pejorative representation of Turkey reflected through different characters in the book comes out in the form of historical and cultural comparison between the Christian past and the Muslim present of the country. Due to their long historical and cultural backgrounds Istanbul and Trebizond have been the focal points of this comparison in which Macaulay seems to glorify Byzantine sites and places while criticising Turkish ones. In this comparison mainly based on religious criteria, Macaulay tends to present Islam as the fundamental obstacle to the actual emancipation of Turkish women in the Black Sea region, presented through Aunt Dot; 'Aunt Dot grew angrier and angrier about the Moslem treatment of women, and could not wait for the A.C.M.S. to get its mission going' (Towers, 71).

Prior to the creation of The Towers of Trebizond Macaulay's early concern about the issue, as has already been emphasised in her letters, goes back to her personal contacts with other tourists during her stay in Turkey in 1954 as well as her own observations in some villages and small towns on the Black Sea. She raises this issue in one of her letters to Hamilton (8th July, 1954):

She recounts the unacceptable practices of discrimination imposed on women in those regions in both her letters and The Towers of Trebizond, practices such as dressing differently, eating separately and not being allowed outside, which seem to be based mainly on the traditional attitudes of the local people rather than any religious principles. Macaulay tries to question Islam as responsible for such discrimination as she writes to her friend Jeanie: While she makes a similar comment on Islam in another letter she refers to the personal interpretation of another German tourist: After Aunt Dot observes the status of women in this region as inferior and exploited in The Towers of Trebizond, supposedly due to their religion, she makes a general religious comparison in which Islam is held to be irrational:
I know it's a very fine and noble religion, but I'd rather have atheism, it would make easier life for women. But we'll try and make Anglicans of them. You know how religious women are, they must have a religion, so it had better be a rational one (Towers, 19).

Moreover, upon coming across a group of Turkish students on the ship to Trebizond she repeats her comparative interpretation of religions with a similar emphasis:

As far as religion is concerned in The Towers of Trebizond, being a member of an Anglican family from an Anglo-Catholic missionary society, Macaulay appears to denigrate not only the Turks and their values but also Arabs and other Christian sects. Besides calling Islam an 'old fashioned religion' (Towers, 262), and considering the Koran as 'being most odd' (Towers, 167), she also makes a prejudicial comparison of Arabs with Jews through Laurie, after her arrival in Jerusalem, who says: 'I saw that Jews were more intelligent and progressive than Arabs and would get further, but which race ought to have had Palestine, or how they ought to have shared it out, is not a thing to be decided by visitors' (Towers, 175).

Furthermore, while Aunt Dot suggests that 'never mind about missionaries. I don't suppose any of them are specifically concerned, as we are, with the position of women' (Towers, 19), she displays her critical attitude to other Christian sects, an attitude which is figured out by Laurie at the beginning of the book:

As a consequence of her feminist enthusiasm about the problem of women in general Macaulay shows some objections to Roman Catholicism mainly due to its doctrine of gospel infallibility and its prohibition of intercommunion as she exemplifies from her own experience: In her analysis of Macaulay's biography and works Alice R. Bensen emphasises that Rose Macaulay sometimes questions Christianity as well as Islam with regard to gender issues and feels dissociated from the Church because: In order to make Macaulay's religious ups and downs more comprehensible she also quotes, in her Rose Macaulay (1969), from her letters to her sister shortly before her death: Setting out from Laurie's statement concerning Aunt Dot in the book itself that 'then she remembered the position of Moslem women, and her missionary zeal returned' (Towers, 42), Bensen tends to infer from the attitudes and utterances of Aunt Dot that: She shows a feminist reaction to the so called gender discrimination attributed to the Church and the Gospels through Father Chantry-Pigg since she also finds something concerning the position of women within the Christian context unacceptable. When Aunt Dot criticises the gender obstacles imposed on Muslim women she is interrupted by Father Chantry-Pigg during a conversation: As for the depiction of the Turks in these works, they are either characterised through the fictitious figures in thrillers or described by the authors in travel accounts. As regards the characterisation in novels, there seems to be a sharp distinction between the villains and heroes and heroines in physical and intellectual terms. In almost every text, the smugglers, drug producers, terrorists and other secondary characters, apart from some stereotypes such as Colonel Nur, Alp Bey or the detective Nuri, are usually Turks or from different ethnic groups living in Turkey, including Germans, Russians, Hungarians, Romanians, Armenians and Kurds.

On the other hand, the heroes and heroines who are always physically and intellectually superior, and fit enough to fulfil the operation by risking their lives for the sake of their national interests and policy are either American or British. As businessmen, spies, detectives, visitors and company representatives they resolve the political and military conspiracy and drug-trafficking, or prevent terrorist attacks, revolutionary coup attempts and sabotage through applying their own superior methods and tactics.

In contrast to figures like Kazdim, the 'Eunuch of Istanbul' in the first half of the century, it is possible to come across Turkish bureaucrats generally in military uniform, and 'they have a western way of looking at the world, intelligence spit and polish, and an appreciation of the good life'(28). The best example of this Turkish figure in thrillers is Julian Rathbone's Colonel Nur who is a middle-class bureaucrat deeply rooted in family and country, and his junior colleague Alp Bey in Diamonds Bid, Hand Out and Trip Trap. Similar is Nuri Bey of Joan Fleming's When I Grow Rich and Nothing is the Number When You Die who sometimes behaves as an intellectual private detective and sometimes as a philosopher whose spirit is overstimulated by the great western philosophers; and Colonel Haki of Eric Ambler's Journey Into Fear who is the chief of Turkish intelligence section. He is described through a character in the novel as:

In the novels involving drug-trafficking in Turkey, besides various male Turkish figures as villains or antagonists like Mustafa Algan of A Stench of Poppies who runs the drug-business from his famous carpet shop, and Barish Uz of Trip Trap who is a rich and well-known businessman in Izmir, there are some prominent female figures as well. These female characters either Turkish or foreign used to be wives, concubines, servants etc. in the Sultan's harem, and now live in historical Kiosks or Yalis of Istanbul in similar luxury through running the drug-business i.e. Mrs. Erim (Sylvana) of Black Amber who is the key operator of the drug-trafficking and Madame Miasme of When I Grow Rich. These women tend to be served and guarded by male servants and safe guards like Ahmet Efendi of Black Amber who used to be the ex-eunuch of the harem in service of the women. These types of characters are pictured as slaves and unable to understand the consequences of their actions properly.

Among the foreigners, the most striking villainous stereotypes are the German agents and smugglers who try either to destroy Turkey or use it in conformity with their political and military ideology. For instance, the German stereotype is the arch-conspirator in the plan to rob the Topkapi Palace in The Light of the Day, and it is also a German spy who attempts several times to kill the British businessman while he negotiates with the official Turkish authorities in order to sell arms to Turkey in Journey Into Fear. It is also possible to see KGB agents chasing and assassinating western spies as well as Turkish security and military people; Hungarian mistresses who fall in love with the hero; Romanian assassins working for the Nazis; Kurdish drug-smugglers, rebels and other types.

Characteristic of novels set in Turkey is the critical designation of people with negative evocations. Apart from an exceptional number of high-ranking Turkish bureaucrats such as Nuri Bey, particularly those stereotypical military figures in thrillers such as Colonel Nur or Colonel Haki whose determination and success in action can only be attributed to their western mentality and technique, most Turkish characters are from the lower or working class, and in specific references to their physical appearance and clothing they are usually depicted as shabby, rude, uneducated, ignorant, and unable to carry out anything serious.

Earlier, when Ernest Hemingway describes the people of Istanbul he also introduces a note of prejudice, commenting that 'in the station are a jam of porters, hotel runners, and Anglo-Levantine gentlemen in slightly soiled collars, badly soiled white trousers, garlicised breaths' (Ararat, 43). Dennis Wheatley expresses an extreme view through the character of Sir George Duncannon when he gives a brief information about the historical and political background of Turkey as well as peculiarities of Turkish people to Swithin Destime on his way to Istanbul for the secret mission:
the Turks are almost entirely a peasant population, lazy, ignorant, hidebound with tradition, accepting blindly as their rule of life on the smallest issue the decisions laid down thirteen hundred years ago by a fanatical soldier-preacher in the Koran (The Eunuch of Stamboul, 42).

When Graham Greene describes the Turks in his Stamboul Train (1932) he uses a negative metaphor to recount their characteristics:

Julian Rathbone is also less than flattering in the prologue to The Pandora Option (1990): During his short stay in Istanbul for the 23rd Interpol Conference (September, 1955), Ian Fleming took some notes about the Turks which would later be used in From Russia With Love (1955): ‘And as usual when Turks reach the manic phase, their frustrations were just about to be released through the one safety valve every patriotic Turk is born with - his hatred of the Greeks’ (The Life of Ian Fleming, 363). He pictures his Turkish fellow in the novel under the name of Darko Kerim ironically in a complete physical distortion with 'his curling black hair, his crooked nose, and the face of a vagabond soldier of fortune' (The Life of Ian Fleming, 368).

Discussing the anthropological traits of the Turks Paul Bowles begins dismissively:

He then tries to establish a cultural image of a nation addicted to hashish based on the curious religious argument that:
For Judaism and Christianity the means has always been alcohol; for Islam it has been hashish. The first is dynamic in its effects, the other static. If a nation wishes, however mistakenly, to westernise itself, first let it give up hashish (Their Heads Are Green, 57).

The most effective representation of Turkey, which is clearly pointed out at the very beginning of Diamonds Bid when Jonathan faces tough questioning and witnesses the bribe at the police station in Ankara, is the corruption of people:

From this specific incident at the police station, Rathbone generalises the corruption of most Turkish officials through Jonathan who remarks that 'every  foreigner in Turkey has his pet stories about bribery of officials;..and many English teachers are offered expensive presents round about examination time' (Diamonds Bid, 21).

The corruption image as a general line through his works is also repeated with similar emphases later in Hand Out (1968). When the writer introduces Nur Bey as an incorruptible person at the beginning of the book he tries to draw a general picture of the corruption among the bureaucrats of the country as well:

In spite of the previous remarks describing Nur Bey as an honest character, dedicated only to his moral responsibilities, Rathbone also implies on the same page that he is also affected by the general trend of corruption in his country: 'Yet Nur's integrity was not the icy incorruptibility of a Protestant, public-school, senior civil servant. He put his family before his countrymen, his countrymen before government expediency' (Hand Out, 20). Moreover, referring to the fact that Jonathan Smollett had been teaching English to Nur's son Firat before he was allowed to leave Turkey with a bag of diamonds he concludes that: 'He would not bribe the examiners, but he would not feel he was doing anything wrong if he offered them favours in return for favours received' (Hand Out, 20).

Apart from several general designations of Turkish people with cynical connotations, some writers such as Dennis Wheatley and Barry Unsworth also seem to create an individual Turkish cliché through historical figures such as the Eunuch Kazdim, Prince Ali of The Eunuch of Stamboul (1935) and Mahmoud Pasha of Pascali's Island (1980) in particular references to their repulsive appearance and brutal behaviour. For example, in Unsworth's characterisation, Mahmoud Pasha and his chief guard Izzet are reflected in quite a humiliating way: ‘The Pasha enormously fat, almost immobile, some clogging of breath in the depths of him, wheeze of depravity and avarice; Izzet (his Jackal) delicate-boned, beaky, vigilant, like a well-groomed vulture’(32). In another part of the novel, while Unsworth mockingly criticises his hostility as a governor to the inhabitants of the island, he caricatures the Turkish Pasha as untalented and stupid:

Although some critics such as John Coates, suggest that 'the point here is not a disdainful dismissal of Turks in themselves, but a comment on the western European central impoverishment of which they are the image'(33), it is possible to come across detrimental attributes to Turkey in The Towers of Trebizond. While Rose Macaulay, as 'a woman of deep religious conviction'(34), criticises Europeans for their disconnection with the past in terms of moral and cultural values, she also tends to be critical of Turks by depicting different characters in the book as indifferent and hostile to western cultural values as Laurie comments in reference to Troy: 'Troy was our ancestor, and the centre of a world that Turks could never know' (Towers, 38).

As far as the historic city of Troy is concerned, Macaulay seems to  criticise Turkish unawareness and lack of appreciation of the cultural values of the city. As Laurie points out: 'Turks are not brought up, as Europeans are (were) on the Trojan legend' (Towers, 31). John Coates tends to back up this attitude:

 Macaulay's complaints about the indifference of the Turks to classical values is also backed up by her personal correspondence concerning Turkey. So, for example, she describes a German couple she came across in Antioch in a letter (Alexandretta, 25 June, 1954) to a friend named Jeanie: 'They are, I think, the only people in Antioch who know anything about the antiquities - Turks neither know nor care - so they were very useful' (Letters to a Sister, 162).

Although she attributes a similar comment to another German she met in Troy in another letter to Jeanie (Istanbul, l July, 1954), her complaints about Turkish indifference sometimes turn into antipathy as she partly agrees with what the German says about the Turks:

Although it is not felt as effectively as in other travel accounts such as The Asiatics and In Xanadu: A Quest the stereotypical western interpretation of Turkish history with its negative evocations is ironically emphasised by Laurie in reference to Father Chantry-Pigg on a couple of occasions. Once he disparages the people of Trebizond as a fierce race of nomadic, bloodthirsty and rather stupid followers of the Prophet (Father Chantry-Pigg looked on the followers of the Prophet with prejudice and distaste) who had been most uncultured' (Towers, 76). On another occasion in the proceeding pages, Laurie introduces Father Chantry-Pigg's historical evaluation of the Turks in an ironic way:  Another common characteristic of travel accounts about Turkey is the unfavourable depiction of people and different locations of the country. Turks are usually featured as ugly, ignorant, smelly and lecherous, and the cities as filthy, boring and full of beggars and dogs. When Krikor warns the narrator about the Turks before he enters Turkey across the Syrian border in In Xanadu, he introduces Turks with the most well-known negative evocations, for example: 'Be careful with the Turks. They are bastards. Evilmen. Bang! They kill. Rob money. Rape womens. Big problem' (In Xanadu, 58).

Remarking that 'I had forgotten how boring Turks could be' (In Xanadu, 62), William Dalrymple then describes a policeman he meets on the train to Erzurum:

While the image of Turk as ignorant is painted through a Greek character, Mascououlos, in Orient Express 'the Turks have not studied the Greek classics. They are ignorant. They do not know Aristophanes or Homer or Demosthenes, not even the deputies (Orient Express, 27). Philip Glazebrook seems to ratify the perception of ignorance more or less with a similar interpretation that: Since the focal point of the book is the past of Turkey rather than the present, Glazebrook's primary concern seems to be the anthropological background of Turkish people. When he visits Konya, a historical middle Anatolian city he criticises the distressing appearance of the city by seeing it as a reflection of nomadic taste with some negative connotations: Besides the use of the term "nomadic" in a similar context, when he notes that 'an efficient, widespread, and cheap system of travel is, I'm sure, as necessary to a nomadic people as water and shade' (Journey to Kars, 92), he also employs it in his negative evaluation of the people as restless and indifferent: ‘The restlessness of Asiatics - their nomadic lack of attachment, most obvious to a stranger in their indifference to buildings - makes the settled peoples of Europe uneasy’ (Journey to Kars, 151).

Starting with the anthropological term "nomad", he criticises the nation, taking it to be indifferent and unappreciative. In one example, to emphasise the indifference of Turks to western values and civilisation he argues:

Elsewhere, he makes a similar comment about the Turks being indifferent and destructive to classical values: He makes use of this popular image of indifference in a different context to support his stereotypical perception of Eastern people or the “Asiatics” as he calls them: 'It doesn't offend Asiatics, who possess no instinctive reverence for old stones, having always sold them to foreigners, or burned them for lime, thrown them down in the search for treasure' (Journey to Kars, 50).

To sum up, the image of Turkey which had been built up by novels and travel accounts since the Crusades, and was matured during the heyday of the Ottoman Empire, was transformed into an image of self indulgence symbolised by the Sublime Porte in the nineteenth century. It was then perpetuated by new perceptions related, for example, to atrocities and became worldwide owing to diffusion through the new means of communication. In addition, those who visited Turkey to revere previous images as they had been imbued with the past rather than the present state introduced their first impressions which reinforce the stereotype although '"Johnny Turk isn't a bad chap."But that has not prevented his being treated as one'(35).


1-Bernard Lewis, “Some English Travellers in the East” in Middle Eastern Studies 4, 1967-8, p. 296. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the texts, by mentioning its shortened title, '“English Travellers”'.

2-’On October 4, 1883, the highly publicised Orient Express made its inaugural run to Constantinople, its two sleeping cars full of distinguished journalists, diplomats and railway officials, and its dining car stocked with the vintage wine and gourmet food which, long after it had been removed from the menu, people would associate with the great train.

Though its route, 1800 miles, was much shorter than the Trans-Siberian's 6000, its romance remained undiminished until the Second World War. With the exception of James Bond's trip in From Russia With Love, all Orient Express fiction is set in the 'twenties and' thirties, beginning with Maurice Dekobra's The Madonna of the Sleeping Cars (1924) and including Graham Greene's Stamboul Train, Agatha Christie's Murder on the Orient Express, part of Eric Ambler's A Coffin For Dimitrios, and Ethel Lina White's The Wheel Spins - this last became the Hitchcock film, The Lady Vanishes’. See: Paul Theroux, Sunrise With Seamonsters (London: Penguin, 1986), p.182.

3-Norman Sherry, The Life of Graham Greene (1904-1939) vol.1 (London: Jonathan Cape, 1989), p. 408. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the texts, by mentioning its shortened title, 'Graham Greene'.

4-Paul Fussell, Abroad: British Literary Traveling Between the Wars (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1980), p. 407. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the texts, by mentioning its shortened title, 'Abroad'.

5-Elton Glaser, “The Self-Reflexive Traveler: Paul Theroux on the Art of Travel and Travel Writing” in The Centennial Review, vol. 33, 1989, p.196. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the texts, by mentioning its shortened title, '“The Self-Reflexive Traveler”'.

6-Paul Theroux, The Great Railway Bazaar, Ist pub. 1975 (London: Penguin, 1977), p.166. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the texts, by mentioning its shortened title, 'Railway Bazaar'.

7-Paul Theroux, Sunrise With Seamonsters (London: Penguin, 1986), p.184. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the text, by mentioning its shortened title, 'Seamonsters'.

8-Stamboul Train was first published by William Heinemann Ltd. in 1932, and in the United States of America it was first published under the title Orient Express in 1933 by Doubleday; it was later published by Penguin in 1963. Graham Greene, Stamboul Train (London: Penguin, 1963-1975), p. 213. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the text, by mentioning its title, 'Stamboul Train'.

9-Dennis Wheatley, The Eunuch of Stamboul (London: Arrow Books, 1960), p.59. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the text, by mentioning its title, 'The Eunuch of Stamboul'.

10-Agatha Christie, Murder on the Orient Express (London: Fontana, 1956), p. 39. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the text, by mentioning its title, 'Murder on the Orient Express'.

11-Frederic Prokosch, The Asiatics, 1st pub. 1935, (London: Robin Clark, 1991), p. 71. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the text, by mentioning its title, 'The Asiatics'.

12-’The city of Istanbul has a triangular position; on the west is the land of Thrace, on the south is the Sea of Marmara and to the northeast the wonderful, deep sea water harbour called the Golden Horn. And Northwards from the tip of the city runs the narrow thoroughfare of the Bosphorus, dividing Europe from Asia and joining the Black Sea, fed by the great traffic-carrying rivers of Russia, to the Sea of Marmara, and thence, through the historic narrows, flanked by Gallipoli and Troy, to the Mediterranean and the world beyond’. See: Michael Maclagan, The City of Constantinople (London: Thames and Hudson, 1968), p.13.

‘The city used to be called Constantinople-a name deriving from the name of the Roman emperor, Constantine, the founder of the city. Constantinople has been many things: the capital and centre of the East Roman or Byzantine Empire for over a millennium, the head of a struggling Latin state for five decades, the capital of the Turkish Sultanate for nearly five centuries. To the Russians it was Tsarigrad the town of Caesar; the Norsemen and Varangians named it Micklegarth. As the Ottoman dynasty declined politically-the city became increasingly cosmopolitan.

How the name Istanbul arose for the imperial city is something of a problem. The form Astanbul occurs as early as Ibn Batuta, writing Arabic in 1350 or so. This makes less likely the widely accepted view that Istanbul is a Turkish version of the Greek words 'in the city'(eis ten polin). In the west the form Stamboul was current, but it is not easy for Turks to pronounce two initial consonants; Istanbul is possibly therefore neither more nor less than a failure to pronounce Constantinoupolis in all its syllables. The hazards of the epithet 'Constantinopolitan' may account for the popularity of 'Byzantine'.

During the nineteenth century the Great City and the Bosphorus figured constantly in international politics because of Russian ambitions both for Constantinople, the great cradle of the orthodox faith, and also for an ice free access to her ports. In 1923 came the severest blow of all for the city when the National Assembly decreed that henceforward Ankara would be the capital of Turkey’. See: Michael Maclagan, The City of Constantinople (London: Thames and Hudson, 1968), p. 146.

For more information, also see: David Talbot Rice, Constantinople: Byzantium - Istanbul (London: 1965); J.A. Cuddon, The Owl's Watchsong: A Study of Istanbul (London: 1960); N.M. Penzer, The Harem Revised ed. (London: 1966); Robert Liddell, Byzantium and Istanbul (London: 1956);

13-Jan Morris, Among the Cities (London: Penguin, 1986), p.196. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the text, by mentioning its title, 'Among the Cities'.

14-Leo Hamalian and Ara Baliozian, “Hemingway in Istanbul” in Ararat, 1988 Spring vol. 29, p. 43. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the text, by mentioning its title, 'Ararat'.

15-Paul Bowles, Their Heads Are Green (London: An Abacus Book, Peter Owen Publishers, 1990), p. 55. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the text, by mentioning its title, 'Their Heads Are Green'.

16-John Pearson, The Life of Ian Fleming (London: Coronet Books, 1989), p. 363. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the text, by mentioning its title, 'The Life of Ian Fleming'.

17-John Dos Passos, Orient Express, Ist pub. 1922 (New York: Jonathan Cape and Harrison Smith, 1930), pp. 12-3. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the text, by mentioning its title, ‘Orient Express’.

18-Eric Ambler, Journey Into Fear, (Glasgow: Fontana/Collins, 1966), p.9. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the texts, by mentioning its title, 'Journey Into Fear'.

19-The writer has been to Istanbul in 1978 and written a chapter about the city under the title 'City of Yok'. See Jan Morris, Among the Cities (London: Penguin, 1986).

20-David Dodge, Talking Turkey (London: Arthur Barker, 1955 Ist pub.), pp. 151-2.

21-William Dalrymple, In Xanadu: A Quest (London: Flamingo, 1990), pp. 101-2. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the texts, by mentioning its shortened title, 'In Xanadu'.

22-Philip Glazebrook, Journey to Kars, Ist pub. 1984 (London: Penguin, 1985), pp. 82. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the text, by mentioning its title, 'Journey to Kars'.

23-’Hotels are built, after all, to make the tourist feel at home, and that, nowadays, means that the home of the mass tourist and of the commercial traveller must be copied, whereas, when the Pera Palas was built (or any of the magnificent monuments to the belle epoque of hotel building), 'home' to a majority of visitors was a Victorian country house - or, if it wasn't, they would have wanted the hotelier to think it was. So, at the Pera Palas, once behind your mahogany door off the long dim corridor, what you have is the bedroom of a Victorian country house with an Edwardian bathroom added to it. When the porter had gone, leaving me master of solemn wardrobes, and chests of drawers, of plush curtains and Turkey rug, of broad white bed and comfortable white space in the bathroom, peace entered my soul. Home at last!’ See: Philip Glazebrook, Journey to Kars (London: Penguin Books, 1985), pp. 175-6.

24-Rose Macaulay, The Towers of Trebizond (London: Flamingo, 1990), p. 262. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the text, by mentioning its shortened title, 'Towers'.

25-Constance Babington Smith, ed. Last Letters to a Friend from Rose Macaulay (London: Collins, 1962), pp. 159-60. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the texts, by mentioning its shortened title, 'Last Letters'

26-Constance Babington Smith, ed. Letters to a Sister from Rose Macaulay (London: Collins, 1964), p.162. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the texts, by mentioning its shortened title, 'Letters to a Sister'.

27-Alice R. Bensen, Rose Macaulay (New York: Twayne Publishers, 1969), pp.141-2. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the texts, by mentioning its title, ‘Rose Macaulay'.

28-Reeva S. Simon, The Middle East in Crime Fiction (New York: Lilian Barber Press, 1989), p.85.

29-Julian Rathbone, Pandora Option, Ist pub. 1990 (London: Mandarin, 1991), p. 1. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the text, by mentioning its title, 'Pandora Option'.

30-Julian Rathbone, Diamonds Bid (London: Joseph, 1967), p. 14. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the texts, by mentioning its title, 'Diamonds Bid'.

31-Julian Rathbone, Hand Out (London: Joseph, 1968), p. 20. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the texts, by mentioning its title, 'Hand Out'.

32-Barry Unsworth, Pascali's Island (London: Penguin, 1980), p.55. Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the text, by mentioning its title, 'Pascali's Island'.

33-John Coates, “Metaphor and Meaning in The Towers of Trebizond”, in Durham University Journal 80 (1987) 111-121 (p.114). Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the texts, by mentioning its shortened title, '“Metaphor and Meaning”’.

34-J.V. Guerinot, “The Pleasures of Rose Macaulay” in Twentieth Century Literature, 33 (Spring 1989), 110-128 (p.119). Further reference to this work will be given after quotations in the texts, by mentioning its shortened title, '“The Pleasures”'.

35-Clement Attlee remarked after fighting at Gallipoli. Noted in Frederic Raphael, “Empire Building” in The Sunday Times (5 December, 1993), p. 5.