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Reading Lolita in Tehran by Azar Nafisi

Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books by Azar Nafisi

This book is one that I might have enjoyed more had I discovered it on my own rather than hearing about it for ages before I finally tried it out for myself. Published in 2003, Reading Lolita has gotten rave reviews, has been recommended widely and repeatedly, and was a best selling memoir. Maybe it was just too inflated for me to appreciate the book for what it was.

Reading Lolita starts out well. In the fall of 1995, the author is meeting with a group of students, all female, in her apartment after she resigned from the university where she was a professor of English-speaking literature. One of her former students reminds her: “She reminded me of a warning I was fond of repeating: do not, under any circumstances, belittle a work of fiction by trying to turn it into a carbon copy of real life; what we search for in fiction is not so much reality but the epiphany of truth.” This rather pithy statement seems like a good truth to keep in mind, but in this book there is a fine line between reality, epiphany, and truth. And the line, to extend the metaphor, gets really blurred by the end of the story.

Next, the author introduces her girls, the group who have come to discuss literature in a place where they can do so openly and honestly and without veils and chadors that hide not only their bodies but also their ideas and dignity as persons. Eight women including the author herself. Ms. Nafisi describes them vividly: Manna the poet, Mahshid the sensitive lady, Yassi the comedian, Azin the fashionable divorcee, Mitra the artist, Sanaz the conformist, and Nassrin, the one that the author calls a Cheshire cat.

But after the introductory chapters, maybe even within the first few chapters, the book becomes scattered and sometimes incoherent. The narrative moves from the Thursday morning literary society to insights on Nabakov and The Great Gatsby to the history of Ms. Nafisi’s feud with the Islamic purity police to someone that the author calls her “magician.” The Magician is a sort of literary hermit who’s decided to withdraw from society as long as the Islamic Republic of Iran continues to shame and persecute intellectuals, but who also wields great influence as entertains carefully selected guests in his apartment and gives them advice and counsel? He’s a shadowy figure, and I never was sure whether he was an imagined character (for some literary purpose?) or whether he was real.

The timeline of Nafisi’s narrative jumps around like a cat (yes, on a hot tin roof), and the book is structured around the books and authors that the women read and discuss together: Lolita by Nabakov, The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald, Daisy Miller by Henry James, and Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. Although Nafisi mentions and sometimes discusses other books and other authors these four define the four sections of the book. I’m not sure why these four, but I suppose it’s because these are the books that resonated with Ms. Nafisi’s students. Of the four I’ve read Austen and Fitzgerald, and dabbled in Henry James (but not Daisy Miller). Of course, I found the allusions to and commentary on the books I have read more illuminating than those I haven’t. (Nabakov just sounds tawdry and distasteful.)

I had trouble keeping the women and their individual stories straight in my mind. I had a hard time figuring out the chronology of Ms. Nafisi’s life and story. I sort of understand why the women identified so strongly with Lolita; like women in the Islamic Republic, Lolita is a victim of misogyny and abuse and entrapment. But why Daisy in Great Gatsby or Daisy Miller? Both of these ladies are rather careless exploiters of others, rather than being helpless victims or overcoming societal expectations.

Maybe I read too fast. Maybe I wasn’t patient enough to tie the narrative together and mine the diamonds out of it. Nevertheless, it just won’t go on my personal list of all-time great memoirs.

Alexander the Great by John Gunther

This biography is the current book that the Facebook reading group Read All the Landmarks is reading. I finished this book just as I was listening to an interview with a well-known celebrity pastor who lost his job, platform, family and reputation because of gross sin on his part. The two stories, that of Alexander and that of the pastor, reminded me of one another. In the interview, someone quoted someone (vague enough?) to the effect that “sometimes our talents and charisma put us in places that our character is not developed enough to handle.” Alexander certainly had the talent and the attractiveness and even the courage to conquer the known world, but he couldn’t handle the temptations and the sheer magnitude of the power he attained.

Actually most of us find ourselves in places of responsibility or leadership that we are just not equipped to handle. Had Alexander been wise enough and humble enough to rely on the God who makes Himself known through all creation, or had he even listened more to his old teacher, Aristotle, he might have avoided his final years of debauchery and disappointment and even his untimely death at the age of thirty-two. (He also would have done well to have laid off the liquor. If John Gunther were a temperance promoter, he could not have written a better cautionary tale about the evils of alcohol than this biography of Alexander the Great who turned into Alexander the Mad Drunkard.)

Because I was interested in gaining an alternative view of Alexander’s life and career, I pulled down another book from shelves, History of Alexander the Great by Jacob Abbot. Part of Abbott’s Makers of History series, this biography was published in 1849, about 100 years before Gunther’s Landmark history (1953). In the preface to Abbott’s book, he says the series was meant for young people between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five who wish to be educated about the great events and people of history. The Landmark history books are written for a younger audience, middle grades or ages ten to fifteen, although they can be enjoyed by those of us who are much older than that. I wondered, “How would a nineteenth century biographer see Alexander’s life in contrast to a children’s writer of the twentieth century?”

Abbott begins by saying: “The secret of Alexander’s success was his character. He possessed a certain combination of mental and personal attractions, which in every age gives to those who exhibit it a mysterious and almost unbounded ascendancy over all with their influence.” Gunther would agree that Alexander started out well and possessed a great many gifts and a certain charisma, but Gunther emphasizes that even as a young man, Alexander’s strengths were balanced by his weaknesses: “Like most creative people, he was full of contrasts. He was affectionate, generous and loyal. . . He never spared himself, he liked to do services for others, and he loved his friends. But—this is the other side—he had no control of his temper and, in later life, often went into crazy fits of debauchery. Worst of all he showed great cruelty on many occasions.”

Things I learned about Alexander, from both Abbott and Gunther:

Alexander loved Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey. He had a copy of Homer’s epics, given to him by his teacher Aristotle, that he carried with him on all his campaigns. For most of those twelve years of battle and conquest, he kept his copy of Homer in a jeweled casket that he took form the Persians as part of the spoils of war.

When Alexander was only eighteen, he and his father, Phillip of Macedon, had a fight at a feast, and Alexander made fun of Phillip and called him a “drunk who cannot get across the floor without tumbling down”. Phillip was indeed drunk at the time, and Alexander was an insolent son. Father and son reconciled just before Phillip was assassinated by a man called Pausanias.

Alexander became more and more power-mad and dissolute and cruel and alcoholic as he conquered more and more territory. After he died at the age of thirty-two, his “empire” fell apart. It took a great deal of time for the various parts of his territory to recover from the disaster that was Alexander sweeping through the land.

Abbott ends his book with these words: “Alexander earned well the name and reputation of THE GREAT. He was truly great in all those powers and capacities that can elevate one man above his fellows. We cannot help applauding the extraordinary energy of his genius, though we condemn the selfish and cruel ends to which his life was devoted. He was simply a robber, but yet a robber on so vast a scale, that mankind, in contemplating his career, have generally lost sight of the wickedness of his crimes in their admiration of the enormous magnitude of the scale on which they were perpetrated.”

“Simply a robber” is not the legacy I would want to leave, no matter how “great” a robber i might be.

To learn more about the Landmark series of biographies and history books for young people, check out this podcast episode, Parts 1 and 2, of Plumfield Moms, What Are Landmark Books? Why Do They Matter?

The Exploits of Xenophon by Geoffrey Household

So I finished this Landmark history book last night, and I really found it absorbing. Apparently, it’s a famous story that comes from the Anabasis by Xenophon, but my ancient Greek history is a little rusty. I’ve heard of Xenophon, but I didn’t know anything about this little incident. It’s really all about this orphaned Greek army marching all over Asia Minor and trying to survive and get back home. They encounter multiple enemies, raging rivers, treachery, harsh winter weather, and more treachery and finally the army does make it back to Greece, or at least near-Greece, maybe Thrace/Bulgaria, just across the Dardanelles from Constantinople?

I needed a better map in my head to follow all of the wanderings of the Greek army called the “Ten Thousand” because supposedly there were that many Greek soldiers in this super-duper Greek fighting force of mercenaries who were tricked into fighting for the younger brother, Cyrus, of the Persian emperor, Ataxerxes, in Cyrus’s attempt to take over his brother’s throne. The Greeks won the battle for Cyrus, but while they were enjoying a little plundering, Artaxerxes managed to kill Cyrus. So they became an army without a mission, trapped deep in enemy territory, with no way to get home safely. Artaxerxes just wanted to get rid of them, and so he allowed them to march north through Kurdistan and Armenia and then west to the Black Sea. Not that the Persians didn’t harass the Ten Thousand as much as possible, and then the Kurds were another problem, and the rivers and snows and mountains, and then more Persians and other “wild tribes.”

Xenophon apparently wrote the Anabasis, the story of the March of the Ten Thousand, in the third person, writing about how “Xenophon did this” and “Xenophon decided that”. He probably wrote his masterpiece that way to “distance himself as a subject, from himself as a writer,” according to Wikipedia. Mr. Household chose to put the whole story into first person and write it from Xenophon’s point of view, a perspective that is already in the original, just disguised a bit. I’m not sure why Household switches the narrative to first person, but it does make the story more immediate and modern-sounding. We’re rather fond of first person memoir in our day and time.

Household also says in the preface to the book that he modernizes some of Xenophon’s style and cut the story for this juvenile edition to quarter of its original length. However, all of the content is pure Xenophon. I think it would be fascinating to follow the Ten Thousand on their journey on a map of ancient Mesopotamia, Turkey, and Greece, and read this slimmed down version of the Anabasis aloud as a family—especially if you have a family of adventurers.

A few random facts, courtesy of Wikipedia:

“Traditionally Anabasis is one of the first unabridged texts studied by students of classical Greek, because of its clear and unadorned style.”

“The cry of Xenophon’s soldiers when they meet the sea is mentioned by the narrator of Jules Verne’s Journey to the Center of the Earth (1864), when their expedition discovers an underground ocean. The famous cry also provides the title of Iris Murdoch’s Booker Prize-winning novel, The Sea, the Sea (1978).”

Author Geoffrey Household served in British Intelligence during World War II in Romania, Greece and the Middle East. He was best known for his suspense novels, especially one called Rogue Male. Between the World Wars, he worked in the banking business in Romania, moved to Spain to sell bananas for United Fruit Company, and came to New York and wrote radio plays for children for CBS.

I really wish I knew more about how Bennett Cerf found and assigned different authors to write the books in the Landmark history series. Cerf on hiring authors: “I decided not to get authors of children’s books, but the most important authors in the country.” How did Mr. Household come to Cerf’s and Random House’s attention, I wonder?

Oh, by the way, Exploits of Xenophon is one of the more rare titles in the Landmark history series. It’s listed at anywhere from $30.00 to $80.00, used, at Amazon.

To learn more about the Landmark series of biographies and history books for young people, check out this podcast episode, Parts 1 and 2, of Plumfield Moms, What Are Landmark Books? Why Do They Matter?

It AIn’t So Awful, Falafel by Firoozeh Dumas

Zomorod Yusefzadeh is living in California with her Iranian family before and during the Iran hostage crisis. No wonder she wants to change her name to Cindy! Not to mention that no one can pronounce her real name, and people always ask, when they find out where she’s from, if they ride camels. Zomorod/Cindy has only even seen a camel once—in a zoo!

These are the adventures and misadventures of an Iranian girl with an immigrant family that sticks out like a sore thumb, in the community, in Zomorod’s middle school, especially after the shah leaves Iran and the political radicals take Americans hostage in the embassy in Iran. Zomorod tries to fit in, by changing her name to Cindy, by celebrating American holidays, and by making friends, but it’s hard to reconcile the two cultures she is living in, Persian and American. The book reminded me of one of my favorite movies, My Big Fat Greek Wedding, as Zomorod/Cindy sees the world from inside her Iranian family and from the American point of view that she is learning. However, no weddings here, as Zomorod/Cindy is only 10-12 years old as the story progresses.

The story is kind of sad at times. Cindy’s dad loses his job as a result of the hostage crisis, and Cindy’s mom is having a lot trouble adjusting to life in the United States. However, lots of humor, and good attitude (most of the time) from Cindy, and some persistently friendly and hospitable people give the book an upbeat and hopeful feel and ending. This book would be an excellent book to give to current middle schoolers who are hearing all of the anti-immigrant talk and being influenced or discouraged by it. It Ain’t so Awful, Falafel gives a different perspective on the immigrant experience and shows how important it is to try to understand how others think and feel.

Esther, Illustrated

420px-Esthermillais

Esther by John Everett Millais.

She’s not as beautiful in this painting as I would have imagined her, or perhaps she’s just not exactly fitting my cultural expectations. Of course, she’s also awfully fair-skinned, not very Jewish looking to me at all. If there is such a thing a “Jewish-looking.” And there has been a lot of discussion of that particular aspect of illustrating stories lately.

Millais borrowed the Yellow Jacket, “a gown given to General Gordon by the Chinese emperor after his defeat of the Taiping rebellion.” But Millais turned the gown inside-out so that it wouldn’t look Chinese. (The book of Esther takes place in the Persian court of King Xerxes.) Esther is supposed to be adjusting her pearls and preparing to put on her crown. She doesn’t look particularly frightened or brave to me. Maybe thoughtful.

Week 16 of World Geography: Iran and Iraq

Music:
Rimsky-Korsakov—Scheherazade

Mission Study:
1. Window on the World: Afghanistan
2. WotW: Hazara
3. WotW: Iraq
4. WotW: Kyrgyz
5. WotW: Yemen

Poems:
Still As a Star—Lee Bennett Hopkins

Science:
Astronomy: Our Solar System

Nonfiction Read Alouds:
Arabs in the Golden Age–Moktefi

Fiction Read Alouds:
King of the Wind—Henry The little girls (ages 7 and 5) and I read a few chapters of this book, but it never captured any of us. We gave up. Maybe we’re just not horsey people.
Seven Daughters and Seven Sons—Cohen I read this book to Brown Bear Daughter and Karate Kid. They were intrigued by the romantic story and the whole idea of a girl who had to dress up as a boy in order to escape her society’s restrictions and help her family. The plot reminded me a bit of Shakespeare with all his girls dressed up as boys, and there was one uncomfortable scene where the prince is afraid he is falling in love with his (male, but not really) best friend. Great story.

Picture Books:
The Golden Sandal—Hickox A Middle Eastern Cinderella story.
The Librarian of Basra—Winter
The Persian Cinderella—ClimoI’ve been trying to help Betsy, age 7, to see the differences and similarities between the various Cinderella tales. It’s a good exercise in comparison and contrast.
Legend of the Persian Carpet–dePaola

Elementary Readers:
Shadow Spinner—Fletcher Brown Bear Daughter is still planning to read this one, since Scheherazade is mentioned in Seven Daughters and Seven Sons, but she’s working on the Cybils Middle Grade Fiction finalists.
House of Wisdom—Heide I got this one from the library and read it to the younger girls, but I wasn’t too impressed. The illustrations are beautiful.
Camel Bells—Carlsson. I got this book from the library and read it myself, but I didn’t share it with the urchins. It’s translated from the Swedish and loses something in the translation.
The Breadwinner—Ellis
A 16th Century Mosque—Macdonald Karate Kid read this one, and now he knows what a mosque is.
The Beduins’ Gazelle–Temple

Previous posts in our Around the World 2006-2007 homeschool unit study.