The Armenian genocide in fiction and fact

Tomorrow is the centennial anniversary of the day Ottoman Turkish officials rounded up 250 Armenian leaders in Istanbul and began what’s now known as the Armenian Genocide. By the time it was over, Muslims had murdered 1 million or more Christians in Turkey. We’ll have an article about the tragedy in the next issue (dated May 16) of WORLD Magazine.

Ten years ago I experimented with writing a novel, Scimitar’s Edge, based on my 2004 month-long trip through Turkey. Broadman & Holdman published it and reviews were decent, but I figured it would take me 20 years to become a good novelist, and I had a different calling. Thinking about the genocide—the novel’s hero, Hal Bogikian, is of Armenian extraction—I pulled out the novel recently and saw it was good I didn’t give up my day job. Nevertheless, here are two segments about the infamous genocide:

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Sally’s brow furrowed with concern.

“That woman,” Hal replied as they reached Malcolm. “I swear she looks like Aurora Mardiganian. She made it to Ellis Island in 1917 after the Turks killed her father, mother, brothers, and sisters.”

“Have you been telling her Armenian horror stories all this time?” Malcolm protested. “You’re obsessed. Sally, aren’t you tired of this?”

“Shh,” Sally said. “I want to know. Let him talk.”

Hal pushed on: “Aurora told awful stories. The worst was about killing squads planting their swords in the ground, blade up, at intervals of several yards. Turks on horseback each grabbed a girl, rode their horses at a controlled gallop, and tried to throw the girl so she would be impaled on a sword.”

Sally shuddered. “What if they missed? Did the girls go free?”

Phoebe and Kemal walked over. Hal said, “I should stop. You’ve heard enough.”

But Sally protested. Somehow she knew it was important to hear these stories and let the horror wash over her. She pleaded with Phoebe, who asked Hal to continue.

So he went on, making his voice as expressionless as possible, as if to reduce the savagery of the tale. “If the killer missed and the girl was only injured, he scooped her up and tried again until she was impaled. Aurora survived by apparent accident, and Hollywood based a silent film, Ravished Armenia, on her account. Authorities in London allowed the film to be shown there only after a scene of Armenian women being crucified was deleted. The Brits said it was inaccurate.”

“Was it?” Malcolm asked.

“According to Aurora it was,” Hal said. “The scene showed women being crucified on large crosses with their long hair covering their nude bodies. Aurora pointed out that the Turks didn’t make their crosses like that. Are you sure you want me to continue?”

Sally bit her lip and nodded.

“They made small pointed crosses.”

“You mean …”

“They stripped the women and raped them. Then the Turks made them sit on the crosses, with the points penetrating their vaginas. Aurora said the Americans had made a civilized movie because they couldn’t stand to see such terrible things, let alone experience them.”

When Hal finished, no one spoke. The silence stretched on until Sally thought she couldn’t bear it any longer. “How do you live with all those miserable images seared into your brain?”

Hal shrugged. “I write them out. It helps.”

Phoebe’s face took on a sad cast. “Turkish people have done wicked things, but they also have created and preserved much that is beautiful. Hal, you can’t forget those terrible events, but you should not hold every Turk responsible for them. That would be as unjust as holding every American responsible for the evils of slavery.”

“I’ll try, Phoebe. But it isn’t easy.”

“Worthwhile things seldom are.”

Later:

When they stopped at a restaurant for Turkish coffee and simit rolls, Sally saw one turquoise and one amber eye watching her from the counter: “That cat is so cute. Are there a lot like her?”

“They’re known as Van cats,” Hal replied. “They look cute, sure, but the provincial governor here in 1915 used Van cats to claw and bite prisoners.”

“Ugh.” Sally looked away.

“That kindly governor also had his men pull off fingernails and toenails, tear off flesh with red-hot pincers, and then pour boiled butter into the wounds. Sometimes the jandarmas nailed hands and feet to pieces of wood, imitating the crucifixion. While the sufferer writhed in agony, the governor’s men would cry, ‘Now let your Christ come help you.’”