The Museum of Innocence keeps 4,213 cigarette stubs in a single glass case, each one supposedly smoked by a woman who never lived. Eighty-three vitrines fill four floors of a narrow, wine-red nineteenth-century house in Çukurcuma, one for every chapter of Orhan Pamuk's novel of the same name. You climb through dim rooms past hairpins, saltshakers, matchboxes, a quince grater and faded photographs of old Istanbul, every object lit like a relic. Little here is grand, and that is the point.
Pamuk built the museum and the novel as one work. He hunted the objects in flea markets, wrote them into the doomed love story of Kemal and Füsun, then set them out across the house. In the book Kemal, sick with longing, hoards everything Füsun has touched, and these rooms make his obsession solid. The house has become a quiet pilgrimage for readers from around the world, and in 2014 it was named European Museum of the Year, a rare honour for a collection documenting lives that never existed.