Ova Ceren on Myth and Grief in The Book of Heartbreak
"One of the most devastating things a person can experience is the loss of a loved one — the kind of grief that alters who you are."
Myth, heartbreak, and the luminous pulse of Istanbul come together in The Book of Heartbreak by Ova Ceren. Sare Silverbirch is cursed to die if her heart breaks five times before she turns eighteen, and after her mother’s death triggers her fourth heartbreak, she must venture into her family’s past in Istanbul to unearth the secrets that might break the curse. Against the city’s layered soundscape and cultural depths, Sare confronts grief, and loves at her own risk. In this interview, Ova discusses how she brought folklore, grief, and place to life in her debut.
Istanbul feels so “alive” and almost a character in its own right. What aspect of Istanbul did you enjoy sharing with readers the most?
I really loved writing about the chaotic soundscape of Istanbul. Unlike my character Sare, I wasn’t immediately mesmerised by the noise and the crowds the first time I visited — it was overwhelming. But over time, I grew to appreciate the way the city is layered, especially in its sounds: ferry horns, street vendors, traffic, cats, call to prayer…
There’s even a famous poem by Orhan Veli called “I’m Listening to Istanbul”, which I found myself thinking about often as I wrote the book. That poem helped me tune into Istanbul despite being miles away.
And of course, the Maiden’s Tower! It was pure joy to place it at the heart of the puzzle in the novel.
The Book of Heartbreak is steeped in mythology. Can you tell us how you weaved those elements into the story, and what the research process looked like? Were there any challenges in “getting it right”?
Sare is cursed to die of heartbreak, and I wanted to link that curse to the life-after-death realm, imagining a system where angels manage supernatural affairs like curses, miracles etc. Since the novel is set in Istanbul, I initially planned to use a different landmark… but the more I thought about it, the more I felt the myth of the Maiden’s Tower belonged to Sare’s story. It’s such an iconic symbol of Istanbul, isolated and enduring with a tragic backstory. Just like Sare!
I’ve never actually set foot on the islet so I had to rely on research: photos, videos, maps. I also did a deep dive into the role of the Müneccimbaşı (the Sultan’s Chief Seer) to shape one of my favourite characters: Sufi Chelebi. Creating him and dreaming up the various “cases” in his seer portfolio was a challenge.
Grief is always a difficult topic to explore. Why do you think it’s such an important conversation to have in YA books?
There are so many books about romantic love, but I wanted this story to explore other kinds of heartbreak. One of the most devastating things a person can experience is the loss of a loved one — the kind of grief that alters who you are. I knew Sare had to face that real, disorienting grief.
Just before I began writing the book, one of my close friends lost her mother. I witnessed her heartbreak up close. She was stuck in time — not because she didn’t want to move forward, but because grief had rewired everything in her life. Seeing her experience this shaped Sare’s emotional arc.
And I think YA readers are incredibly emotionally intelligent. They don’t need sugarcoating. I wanted this book to feel like a hug — to say: no matter how much a heartbreak hurts, you will survive.
The generational curse adds so much depth to the story. What drew you to explore the idea of inherited burdens? How do you think it will resonate with readers of different ages?
I think many of us (especially those from immigrant or diasporic cultures) spend a lot of time thinking about our ancestors: what they went through, what we’ve inherited, and whether we’ve done any better. Have we healed what they couldn’t? Have we lived the lives they dreamed of? I come from a big, chaotic Turkish family, full of unresolved generational trauma. I’ve always felt that the tragedies our ancestors lived through somehow — in a very fated way.
The curse in The Book of Heartbreak is metaphorical in some ways, but also very literal. Sare is the one who has to stop it. I wanted to explore what it means to be the generation that says, this ends with me, and just how much courage that takes. It’s never easy to face trauma, even when it doesn’t start with you.
Younger readers might connect with Sare’s sense of angst and unfairness, while older readers may recognise the emotional labour it takes to survive (and keep loving) in a dysfunctional family.
You’ve been such a successful bookish content creator for years. What is it like stepping into the author role now—and how different does it feel promoting your own book instead of others?
Thank you! If I’m being truly honest, by the time publication day arrived, I was a bit sick of seeing my own face. I’m so grateful to my followers who stuck with me! You’re in cheerleader mode for others. But when it’s your own book? It’s vulnerable. You’re basically saying: ‘Hey, here is my heart and soul, I hope you like it!’
I changed careers to get this book out into the world, and I kept reminding myself: you only debut once. I tried to do my best and tried to find fun and creative ways to talk about the book and the writing process. Some ducks were also involved in the promotions, handsomely paid in peas!
