Ready.
This page is a review of the chapter "2 The structure, derivative-power, and syntax of Turkish" (pp.25-37) in the section "I General Properties of Turkish" of TüGü.
p.25 is a justification of the game of word-coinage. An introduction that may sound neutral -- if the reader is not already informed that the "if not coined then must import" is only to appeal to the tribalist urge, not to import a word. The T.C.newspeak people abhor any foreign entry, as also TüGü does, as exemplified later in the text. However, I think the case is otherwise. We have a lot to abhor the thoughtless tribalist coinages, which leave the original meaning. I exemplify.
On page twenty-six, the agglutinative nature of Turkish is introduced. In those examples of TüGü, the morpheme-count do not really diverge noticeably, although TüGü boasts that as if "only one word" is needed, as opposed to the multiple words of the contrasted languages. A listener hears all the morphemes! Not to mention that, each language, may have a differential advantage for any popular pattern of their own, as captured in their favorite preposition/prefix/suffix list. That is, to express a Turkish sentence, and to count the blank-space in German, or some whichever language, is nothing to boast, at all. Only different.
How is the concept of süre (time-period) is related to sürü (herd), sürücü (driver), or sürüm (version)? TüGü (pp.27-28) is with a word-list, each derived from the word "sür" (to drive, to elapse, to rub) as their root -- a hundred of them. Well, people may find ever such a remote resemblence, and when they coin a new word, they may coin that as a derivative. However, TüGü is (again) proud with Turkish -- here, pointing at the derivation capability as a richness of agglutination. We may wonder, then, if a Turkish-speaker knew each of the four listed above (süre, sürü, sürücü, sürüm), how would he/she infer what süreç (process), sürme (a type of eye-liner), or sürekli (continuous) is? The repeated employment of the same root, to get at some distant meaning, most probably, does not allow the person infer/anticipate the meaning, when hearing the first time -- if not until a vocabulary look up. The next example list with the root "gör" (pp.29-30) does repeat that point.
Next, similarly, TüGü (pp.30-33) is proud with the the large number of suffix varieties in Turkish. TüGü thinks that is "expressive-power" (p.30). The example "-çi" is on pp.30-32, with various categories of what that could mean. In American/English, they are "-ist" or "-er"/"-euse." The example "-lik" on page 33, is "-ship/ness/hood," if not the preposition "for" or "per." They are only orthogonal -- preposition/connective/etc. as agglutinated-vs.-not. No relative advantage, nor loss.
Next, we find the T.C.-newspeak mentality, the sort of tribalism they insist. For example, TüGü is proud that, from an old root/example, a new example is coined, e.g: "olanak," instead of "imkan" (of Arabic-origin). There is a problem there, though. The alienated word "imkan" is what the Istanbul (Ottoman) people have had, for centuries. The coined word "olanak" was inferrably (as most other such), never known to even people of exactly the Turkish blood. There, we notice that, even by tribal logic, the newspeak people is a hostile sort. They do not want to extend to their past, so much as they want to avoid foreign people. That is, their tribalist-urge is to alienate any foreign, to keep Turkish a distinct language -- if not to rival Esperanto, as an artificial language. Then, when they mention that as "[plain/root/core] Turkish," the question would go, whether such newspeak people (T.D.K., etc.) think themselves as the "canonical ancestral Turk" such that whatever they coin is to get considered as "more Turkish" than what any forefather had talked with. That is certainly not the friendly attitude of a cosmopolitan culture, as Istanbul was/is. Even the tribalist urge of Semseddin Sami, was relatively moderate. In time, though, they got more isolationist -- if that is what they mean as nationalism.
Next, we find the alienation examples, in geographical-terminology. If geography was only what professional people would talk, then to coin the term such as "fracture-line" (kirilma çizgisi) instead of a "fault-line" (in American/english, or "faille" in French) would not matter a lot. (I looked up in Encyclopedia Americana, though, and found that, in geography, a fault is the subtype of a fracture that has shifted. Not any fracture.) There is a real-world problem, though, and as TüGü is so interested with literary/poetic examples, Mr. Aksan was supposed to think that himself, too. When to translate from an American or French text to Turkish, or vice versa, for example, in a film-name, any intended pun could get lost. That is where a translator may drop a footnote, or deviate from the original meaning. Does TüGü applaud exactly that sort of alienation? (Well known as this is, after I typed this here, a published newspaper article was about the concern of Heidegger about Greek-to-Latin translation.)
Not to mention that, the people of Istanbul find no difficulty with the term "fay hatti" (as from French, faille), and most Istanbul people, if not all, still employ that term. Why would we need to introduce a Turkish-looking word, which is no more meaningful to us? In that case, the translator is in an awkward position that, he/she would write the footnote to a word that looks Turkish itself. That is, write the word "kirilma" (fracture), then footnote that, that in fact, is (also) to mean "fault," when the multi-word term is decomposed as a pun.
The next example, the coined "çöküntü hendegi" instead of "hufre-i inhidamme" is also a weird case, as we may notice right away, although that phenomenon of geography is not familiar term, as opposed to an earthquake. The weird point is that, the word "hendek" is from Arabic, too. How would that replace "hufre?" Is that a redundancy oof Arabic? Or otherwise, we would anticipate that, the new coinage loses the old meaning, in a shade, or another. And as far as I looked up, hufre is inclusive of the past act, too. That is dug and moved. In contrast, hendek is only the existing state, now.
Next, on pp.35-36, the point for pride is the existence of word-compounding, in Turkish. First, we may reflect that, a hyphen-linking is the root mechanism, to enmesh two of them, and if for more of them, or for a flexible compounding (while writing/talking, on the go), a hyphened-word-list is the (only) way to go -- unless you talk Deutsch.
Another point to note, is that when the word-list is bound that way, the sound-gap is shorthened or non-existent, when read [aloud]. That is the last straw, if TüGü was really serious about the value of the strictness of "uyum" in Turkish wovel-in-word. TüGü, on page 21, was proud of that, as an ease-in-pronounciation. This compound-word-existence point is only one of the list to counter such propaganda.
The last paragraph of the second chapter (on page 37), if a challenge at all, is trivially answered, if we may point out that all of that what TüGü is proud there, is only the agglutinative-bias of Turkish. That does not really make Turkish more flexible.
The suffix which TüGü mentions as "the only needed," is exactly what the what/that/who/whom does, in the middle of a sentence.
The suffix "-ip" in Turkish is itself the "and" he prides himself that the Turkish sentence does not need. The way I translate, next, the American/English reader could think of the 'n (and) as a prepositional-connective that specifies the sequence of the following phrase after the former.
After this traslation information, that example "challenge" (p.37), is readily countered by the preposition variety in English.
After I woke up early in the morning 'n bought a few pieces for breakfast by visiting the market, I came/returned home 'n [I] was refreshed by/after feeding myself [full].
Not to mention that, exactly within the sentence where TüGü claims that the Turkish syntax obviates "and," that "and" is employed (if not a typo). :-)