Apartment in Istanbul

The protagonist is a German woman in her forties who lives in Turkey and runs a bookshop specializing in crime fiction.
She describes herself this way:

.
Saddened and disheartened following an argument with her boyfriend, she sets out to find an apartment to buy.
Among those brought to her attention, she attempts to view one that happens to be illegally occupied.
In trying to see it, the protagonist—impulsive and quick-tempered—clashes with the tenant, who refuses to let her inspect the premises.
As chance would have it, the tenant is murdered: thus begins a detective story in which the protagonist, partly because she is a suspect and above all because she enjoys playing detective, sets out to find the killer.
It must be said that, as a noir, it is hardly compelling, particularly because it lacks twists and turns and everything feels rather predictable.
Far more interesting is the sketch of a woman poised between two such disparate societies: the German one (where “people are always in a foul mood, unhappy, and dissatisfied”) and the Turkish one, where

.
What the protagonist wants is clear—after all, where else could a woman live, if not in a Mediterranean city, when she prefers “a new apartment rather than another man” entering her life?

The book possesses one undeniable virtue: offering the prospective tourist a list of Istanbul's most interesting neighborhoods.
The protagonist is sketched with hurried, superficial strokes, almost deliberately avoiding any psychological or sociological depth.
Life moves quickly, and there is no time to understand why one lives in Istanbul rather than Berlin, why one prefers living alone—with the pleasure of playing detective—over having a husband and the friendships typical of a middle-aged progressive German woman, such as having

.

Why read it? It is an enjoyable read, but the narrative is evanescent and flimsy.
A translator's labor must cost very little indeed to justify publishing such a predictable book in Italian.