Selman Nacar’s Istanbul Encyclopedia is not just a drama—it’s a quiet revolution in Turkish television storytelling. Emotionally resonant, visually captivating, and thematically daring, the series dives deep into the complexities of identity, faith, and womanhood in modern Istanbul, and emerges with a poignant, poetic tale that refuses to be boxed in.
At the emotional core of this slow-burning series are Zehra (Helin Kandemir), a 20-year-old architecture student from deeply conservative Amasya, and Nesrin (Canan Ergüder), a successful yet weary cardiovascular surgeon living in a city that once inspired her but now feels like a cage. Despite their generational and ideological differences, their paths cross in ways that are both intimate and transformative.
Zehra’s arrival in Istanbul sets the tone for the show’s central tension: navigating personal faith in a world of conflicting freedoms. Her story, delicately portrayed through scenes as subtle as removing nail polish before prayer or debating the acceptability of a beanie in ID photos, captures the micro-struggles of a young woman reconciling belief with self-expression.
Nesrin, on the other hand, is a woman at the end of her tether—disillusioned by her partner, exhausted by her family, and disenchanted with the very city that once gave her wings. Her yearning to escape Istanbul to start anew in France is mirrored by Zehra’s longing to claim the city as her own.
Their dynamic evolves in surprising ways. Nesrin first seems like the composed mentor, while Zehra appears unpredictable. But as the series progresses, both women deepen in complexity, with Kandemir’s performance shining as Zehra transforms from uncertain newcomer to someone quietly powerful. Ergüder delivers Nesrin with elegant restraint, portraying both strength and vulnerability in a society that often reduces women to symbols.
Adding charm—and a hint of magical realism—is Diego, the cat, whose absences and returns coincide with emotional climaxes. His presence offers a quiet thread of continuity in an otherwise fractured world.
What makes Istanbul Encyclopedia stand out, though, is its treatment of the city itself as a living, breathing character. Each episode is anchored in a distinct architectural landmark—from the narrow Alcakdam Slope to the commanding Bezm-i Alem Mosque—used not just as setting, but as metaphor. These spaces reflect the characters’ inner states and become part of Zehra’s literal journey as she documents the city in an evolving project that mirrors her internal growth.
Visually, the show is stunning. Its deliberate, unhurried pace matches its philosophical tone. It steers clear of melodrama and avoids simplistic binaries. There are no villains, no caricatures—just women trying to breathe freely in a world full of expectations. The series explores both liberal and conservative mindsets with rare empathy, refusing to dismiss either side.
In one of the show’s most hauntingly beautiful moments, Zehra—after a painful farewell—walks away from the airport, emotionally fractured, only to be illuminated by a lighthouse ahead. It’s not just a scene—it’s a statement. Istanbul will not define her; it will reveal her.
The final episode teases a potential second season, with Zehra’s bold new look—a visual echo of Nesrin—stunning her mother and hinting at seismic internal shifts yet to unfold.
Whether you’re from a small town adjusting to urban life, or simply someone drawn to layered, female-led narratives, Istanbul Encyclopedia resonates. It is as much a reflection as it is a revelation—a reminder that the journey to selfhood is messy, sacred, and worth watching.
Verdict:
A meditative, gorgeously crafted tale of faith, freedom, and femininity in flux. With standout performances and Istanbul as both muse and mirror, “Istanbul Encyclopedia” is one of the most moving television experiences in recent memory.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️½Tools
