It was a really interesting premise, even though I normally don't enjoy magical realism. Also, I enjoyed the talks about Turkey and politics, but I found the story in itself a bit hard to keep up with, the way it's told. The second half even a bit boring.

Thank you NetGalley for the free copy. #NetGalley

I was drawn in right away by the bonkers sounding premise of this, during a remodeling. A prison cell is somehow installed instead of a womens bathroom?

As a big fan or Kafka this sounded like the kind of depressing fantasy style stories he wrote but while I did get depressing it wasn't quite for the reason I expected, the book overview made it sound(to me at least) that the main character would be a trapped inmate in the cell for much of the book but it doesn't quite work out like that,

The depressing side came from her elder father. A dementia sufferer in the later stages. The discussions she has with him as he doesn't recognise her are heartbreaking and will really hit hard for anyone who has seen a relative go through it themselves.

I give this 3.5 stars rounded up to 4, it's a hard hitting emotional read but didn't go as I expected it too. My thanks to net galley and Farrar,Straus and Giroux for the e-ARC, the above is solely my own opinion given in exchange for a copy no other goods or services were given or promised, thank you.

I didn't expect to come to like this book as much as I eventually did. It's a story about exile, grief and disconnect. The protagonist has moved with her husband and elderly father from Turkey to Italy -more so fled than moved, but she doesn't seem to want to fully acknowledge that. Her life of integrating and fruitlessly looking for jobs gets interrupted when a bathroom renovation gone awry results in doorway to a Turkish prison cell right in her home.

The book throws you right in the absurdity of it all, and reading the first chapter was a bit like picking up Alice in Wonderland. It's almost so wacky that I felt kind of detached reading it at first.

Fortunately, the novel gradually changed its tone and drew me in. As the reader we get to see how difficult it can be to be the sole caregiver for a family member with late stage dementia. Especially in a foreign country that you must make your new home. And even more so when it is dire circumstances of an oppressive regime have forced this life path onto you. Denial over what was truly lost somehow went hand in hand with the grief of all that once was.

I don't think you need to be familiar with Turkey's current state and recent past to be able to read this book, but it might help. Maybe a little read of Erdoğan's wikipedia page will give some extra context. I think real life events have been woven into this story very beautifully.

Although I'm from somewhere else, it made me ruminate a lot. I remember in my youth, when my Turkish neighbors cheered for Erdoğan and I felt at a loss. I thought back on the failed coup of 2016, following it closely online, holding my breath. Reading about all the people being put in prison, thinking, will this be a blueprint? Will it turn out like this in more and more places eventually? That feeling of dread, that dictatorships get created too easily, that things like these happen and can get worse and worse.

But, out of my mind, back to this book. Overall, a very good read with a great ending. Tense and emotional, with a tiny bit of comic relief here and there. Highly recommend.

I really hope this author will someday write a multigenerational family saga with multiple perspectives. That would be neat.

With its fantastical premise and candidly raw emotional core, The Renovation is a powerful literary gem. I’m glad I was drawn in by its outlandish hook—a botched renovation where a residential bathroom inexplicably transforms into a prison cell—judging on the subject matter alone, I might have passed it by as too literary for my taste. The touch of magical realism is seamlessly woven throughout, holding my attention and pulling me into a vulnerable, deeply human character study. More than once, I found myself double-checking to make sure this wasn’t a nonfiction memoir—the protagonist’s journey feels that vivid and real.

The Renovation tackles heavy themes: a parent’s dementia and Türkiye’s political turmoil over the past decade. Despite this, it never feels overwrought; instead, it’s resonant and surprisingly balanced. For someone who doesn’t regularly engage with Türkiye’s politics, it’s also insightful without being overly academic. As an immigrant myself, I found the depiction of complicated feelings toward one’s homeland strikingly accurate—on the surface, countless reasons to leave, yet underneath, an unbreakable emotional longing. Oddly enough, Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner kept coming to mind while I was reading this—likely because of its reflective portrayal of a parent–child relationship.

Ultimately, The Renovation was a refreshing change of pace from my usual thriller and horror reads: more introspective and serious, yet still delightfully quirky thanks to its unconventional setup and fluid, unpretentious writing style. There’s so much metaphor and symbolism to unpack that I know this story will stick with me for a long time.

⭐⭐⭐⭐

In this story we follow Dilara, a Turkish school psychologist who has exiled herself to Italy. Our story starts when what was supposed to be a renovated bathroom turns out to be a cell in a well-known Turkish prison. In this tale we explore a plethora of topics such as being a caregiver of your dad, homesickness for a country you abandoned, and the ambiguity it brings. It was filled with beautiful and purple prose and a very rich inner monologue.

While the premise is quite bizarre, the book is mainly character-focused, accepting the magical realism that is present throughout it. The book could be described as melancholic, with lots of longing, whether it's for a dead parent, an absent husband, or the past that will never come back. Additionally, as we follow the past timeline where she still lived in Turkey, we get a lot of insight about the political climate and historical facts, which was reminiscent of The Island of Missing Trees by Elif Shafak. Overall, a highly recommended novel for those who are looking for an emotional novel with some touches of magical realism.

Thanks to NetGalley and Farrar, Straus and Giroux for the eARC in exchange for an honest review!

"For every exile, there is a family of hostages, a host of lovers, friends, colleagues, rivals, affable greengrocers, lascivious taxi drivers - all left behind in their hostage's bindings, and the country calls out that it misses you, don't you miss it back?"

How does one escape a homeland turned dictatorship? As it turns out, one cannot — the prison follows them wherever they go. In a feat of magical realism, Kenan Orhan vividly depicts what it means to never escape one's country of origin, especially when forced to flee. Considering my own country's long but definitive path toward an outright dictatorship, I can't say I haven't been thinking about leaving recently, so this novel hit too close to home. And that's good. I needed to know that, even if I left, the prison would follow me.

Gorgeous storytelling - all at once mysterious, moving, and disorienting. Dilara and her husband are renovating their bathroom in their home in Italy. The contractors are increasingly secretive about their work. When they complete it, Dilara is shocked to discover her new bathroom looks just like a notable Turkish prison. At first she is shocked and repulsed, but slowly she finds herself drawn to the other women staying there. At the same time, Dilara is dealing with an absentee husband and a father with dementia.

Thank you very much to Farrar, Straus and Giroux and NetGalley for the opportunity to read a copy.

Kenan Orhan’s “The Renovation” offers an emotionally intimate glimpse into the life of a caregiver looking after her chronically ill father. The main character, Dilara, is also a Turkish political refugee exiled in Italy.

In this powerful narrative, Dilara discovers that her remodel has gone wildly awry, leaving her with a Turkish prison cell in place of a bathroom. While this premise is absurd and hints at elements of magical realism, it resonated deeply with me. As someone who is chronically ill and has a father battling a fatal illness, I can relate to the feeling that, amid growing authoritarianism in a fraying democracy, a home can sometimes feel like a prison cell.

Throughout the novel, Dilara navigates the challenges of caring for her ailing father and dealing with an absent husband, all while being increasingly drawn to the prison cell. The notion that a cell represents punishment is clear; however, the predictability, comraderie, and limited outside interference it offers could also be perceived as refreshing, leading one to acclimate to it.

This novel delves into memories, which has a feeling of significant importance due to their displacement and the effects of Alzheimer’s. The prose is powerful, emotional, and empathetic. I will be reflecting on this book for a long time to come, and I highly recommend it. Thank you to Farrar, Straus, and Giroux for providing an ARC in exchange for an honest review.