Preparing for Euprera's Istanbul Congress, I read Snow, by Turkey's Nobel Prize-winner Orhan Pamuk.
Ka, a poet, travels to the eastern city of Kars, partly to investigate several suicides among young women, partly to track down a childhood beauty. Shortly after he arrives, Ka meets the proprietor of the Border City Gazette. He is rather surprised when Serder Bey shows him a copy of the next morning's newspaper, which includes a report on a theatre performance during which he read a poem.
"I don't have a poem called Snow and I'm not going to the theatre this evening. Your newspaper will look like it has made a mistake."
"Don't be so sure. There are those who despise us for writing the news before it happens. They fear us not because we are journalists but because we can predict the future. You should see how amazed they are when things turn out exactly as we've written them up. This is what modern journalism is all about."
Later, Serder explains: "The Eastern Anatolian press is in desperate trouble. Our average Kars citizen doesn't bother to read the paper. Almost all our subscribers are government offices. So, of course we are going to run the sort of news our subscribers want to read. All over the world - even in America - newspapers tailor the news to their readers' tastes. And if your readers want nothing but lies from you, who in the world is going to sell papers that tell the truth? If the truth would raise my paper's circulation, why wouldn't I tell the truth?
"Anyway, the police don't let me print the truth, either."
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