How a little-known book auction brings together Istanbul’s bibliophiles
TÜRKİYE
7 min read
How a little-known book auction brings together Istanbul’s bibliophilesIn Istanbul’s Uskudar district, an open-air book auction is reviving the city’s sahaf tradition – uniting collectors, readers, and passersby in a joyful, analogue celebration of discovery.
In Istanbul’s only open-air book auction, stories change hands not with screens but with raised flags and reverent hearts. / TRT World
15 hours ago

On a sunny Sunday in Istanbul, a ferry from Besiktas carries passengers not for the view, nor the famed tea gardens of Uskudar, but for something far more exciting and unconventional: a book auction in the heart of the Uskudar Sahaflar Carsisi.

It is the only open-air book auction in Istanbul. The market itself is steeped in history, its coral-hued stone a striking reminder of the past.

Originally built as a bathhouse by Mimar Sinan at the request of Nurbanu Sultan in the late 16th century, it was closed in 1917 and partially demolished during mid-century road expansions. In 1962, it was revived as a market.

“When former Mayor Hilmi Turkmen restored it, we aimed to create an authentic sahaf atmosphere,” Bahtiyar Sahaf tells TRT World.

Today, six distinct stalls, ranging from family-run sellers to archivists and Ottoman-era specialists, line the bazaar. Together, they have transformed the market into a space where books, stories, and seekers converge.

What might seem like an event reserved for die-hard collectors instead draws a remarkably diverse crowd: children, students, retirees. Some said it rekindled their love of reading. Others felt more connected to the world of print.

The air buzzed with anticipation is more like a festival than a market. The auction resembles the final scene of a long-awaited film. By six in the evening, everything is ready.

Ali Karabeyeser, a bookstall owner with the poise of a seasoned news anchor, adjusted his headset microphone.

The crowd: students, pensioners, parents with children, gripped their numbered flags.

“Are your flags ready?” he asked with a smile, launching the auction.

The first item was Halkadan Piriltilar, a 1955 edition featuring stories of evliya, or awliya, saintly figures in Islamic tradition, revered for their piety and wisdom. Originally serialised in Buyuk Dogu magazine in the 1940s, the book sparked instant interest. 

As soon as Karabeyeser announced it, the bidding had begun. Hands flew up; flags waved.

‘It’s archaeology’

Bahtiyar Istekli, 57, known simply as Bahtiyar Sahaf, doesn’t just trade in books. He unearths them. A sahaf is a traditional antiquarian bookseller in Türkiye, often seen as a guardian of literary heritage.

“When I opened my first sahaf shop in 1990, I was 22,” he tells TRT World. “That’s how I tell people my age, by the year I opened my bookstore.”

He likens the work to excavation. “Being a sahaf is very much like archaeology,” he adds. “This is my excavation site.”

Istekli’s journey began with selling second-hand books on Kadikoy’s sidewalks to make extra money.

Decades later, he co-founded both the Kadıkoy and Uskudar sahaf bazaars and helped launch the Uskudar Sahaflar Association in 2022 to preserve this dying tradition.

But for Istekli, auctions aren’t about making money. 

“It’s not about selling rare books at high prices. It’s about pulling people toward books. This is a book festival, a celebration. You’ll see families, children, even pensioners raising their flags,” he says.

Books start at just 20 lira. “We don’t think in terms of profit or loss,” he adds. “Sometimes I sell a book for less than I paid. But it finds the right owner.”

Istekli spoke of a woman who brought in documents: Ottoman-era letters, old title deeds, and a note from her uncle that she couldn’t decipher. “She had no idea what they said. That’s what we do here. We decode. We connect.”

Some items never reach the auction block.

“They’re too private. Sometimes what we find carries deep secrets. We choose not to sell everything. We destroy certain things on purpose. A sahaf is often a vessel for things that were never meant to be read aloud.”

And then there are the treasures: the kind collectors dream about. He once came across a single surviving copy of Sezai Karakoc’s first poetry book, with a cover hand-drawn and signed by Cemal Surreya. 

“Two poets. One book. A token of friendship. There’s only one like it in the world.”

Battling over a book

Ali Karabeyeser, who’s been a sahaf since 2011, also sees auctions as more than transactions. “It’s about the excitement,” he says. 

“You’re in a bidding war. You raise your flag. You win. That book carries a memory now. Some even write notes inside about the auction they got it from.”

Though his main shop is in Atasehir, Karabeyeser has become central to the Uskudar auctions since 2022. His voice – calm, quick, and warm – has become the sound of Sunday evenings.

“After the 2023 earthquakes,” he says, “we held four charity auctions. That’s how it started. Then it grew. We’ve been holding summer auctions every weekend since.”

He emphasises how inclusive it has become.

“It’s a way for everyone, not just collectors. Good ones. At fair prices. And it’s fun. It’s not a stiff literary event. There’s laughter, kids running around, people joking as they bid.”

Dursun Cicek, a 61-year-old retired teacher and avid photographer, views the auction as part of a larger quest.

“A book isn’t just read. It’s pursued,” he says. “And the ones you find unexpectedly stay with you.” He bristles at the idea of a “best book.” “No single book moves you. Many do. We are shaped by layers of what we read.”

Still, the thrill of discovery remains and he lights up when discussing moments of discovery.

“If I find a new translation of Fusus al-Hikam by Ibn Arabi, or a unique version of Mantiku’t-Tayr, I get excited even if I’ve read them a dozen times. They’re like mountains I keep climbing.”

 Cicek likens it to his landscape photography.

“When I photograph the Toros or Aladaglar ranges, I’m not just capturing peaks, I’m reading the landscape. The mountains are books too.”

So, what is he seeking? “Maybe. In the mountains, I look for unwritten books. Here, I search for the ones others have written. It’s the same instinct.”

‘Conversation outlasts auction’

Among the crowd was Kemal Budak, a legal counsel with 25 years of experience. His interests lie in 15th to 19th century Ottoman and Turkish books often in English, French, German, or Latin. But he isn’t here just for acquisitions.

“This is a hobby, yes. But it’s also a conversation,” he tells TRT World. “You meet artists, lawyers, writers. We talk about manuscripts, philosophy, and paper. Sometimes the conversation outlasts the auction.”

For Budak, the auction is also about learning. “You slowly understand a book’s value; historically, materially, even sentimentally. It has a financial side, but more importantly, it nurtures cultural exchange.”

To him, the auction is also a subtle form of defiance.

What began with manuscript traders centuries ago has since transformed into something more enduring: a culture of preservation, binding, publishing, and now, revival.

In the shadow of a digitised world, where stories flicker through screens and algorithms dictate curiosity, this gathering feels almost radical. No apps, no scrolling, just flags raised for forgotten books. 

Here, collective memory is reawakened not through spectacle but through sincerity.

As the sun dips behind the domes of Uskudar and the final bid echoes through the courtyard, a voice near Budak murmurs something that stays with him long after. 

“The ones meant to hold the books are searching, and the books are searching for them too.”

It brings to mind a quote often attributed to Rumi: “The thirsty search for water, but water too searches for the thirsty.”

SOURCE:TRT World
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