Strange Times, My Dear Read online

  THE CURRENT STATE OF LITERATURE IN IRAN

  Most writers supported and participated in the revolution of 1979, and enjoyed the brief period of freedom of expression that it brought. Before long, the religious factions attempted to consolidate their power by taking American hostages and launching a cultural revolution. Universities were first purged of all nonreligious elements, and then closed altogether. Political opponents were imprisoned, killed, driven abroad, and otherwise silenced. Sanctioned broadly by the West including the United States, Saddam Hussein attacked Iran in September 1980. Cities were bombed, and hundreds of thousands of people perished under rockets and chemical weapons. Despite facing repression and strict censorship from their own state, war with Iraq, international vilification from abroad, and dire personal financial circumstances, Iranian writers have resumed writing and publishing from the early 1980s.4

  Today, two-thirds of Iran’s population of 70 million is under thirty years old. One-half of the population is under twenty years old. Seventy-six percent of the population is literate. Deprived of different forms of mass entertainment, the readers in Iran are mostly young, residents of the larger and smaller towns of the provinces, and — judging from the letters sent to literary journals — an increasing number of rural people.

  In spite of the censorship imposed by the strict religious ideology and by various organs of the state, the number of writers and poets has multiplied and literary magazines have flourished. Literature has begun to emerge from the private sphere and from the domain of the upper and upper-middle class to the public sphere, where many writers and readers from economically disadvantaged backgrounds are beginning to participate. A large body of feminist literature, written mainly but not exclusively by women, has also grown and flourished within this literary landscape.

  A diverse and dynamic literary environment has emerged that, interestingly, cannot be characterized as an integrated movement with an overriding set of aesthetic principles. Writers continue to write in multiple genres and styles that range from social realism to complex psychological stream of consciousness to various styles of postmodern prose. As a body of work, this literature is often apocryphal, in the sense that the stories and poems tend to be sad, often allegorical and allusive, with different dimensions of meaning and interpretation. This can be attributed to the complexity of the psychological and practical realities and emotions that the writers are trying to convey through their work, as well as to the treacherous alleys of censorship that writers have to maneuver through in order to be allowed to publish.

  Most of the writers are middle class and secular, nationalist and cosmopolitan, grappling with their perceptions of the problems of con- temporary Iran and the world.5 The revolution began as a movement against royal dictatorship and its wholesale acceptance of Western economic and cultural domination, and resulted in the adoption of a different homegrown system of repression based on a politicized religious nativism. Whereas before the revolution the state dictated everything related to politics and made Iranians feel like incomplete second-class Europeans, this regime crossed the boundaries into our innermost private spheres, setting laws and seeking to control (often by force) how we dress, eat, drink, engage in sexual behavior, think, and express ourselves. As the poet Shamlu put it in “The Blind Alley”: “They smell your breath lest you have said ‘I love you.’” The stories and poems presented here demonstrate the writers’ acute awareness of the human condition in Iran and the world.

  The body of literature is also, encouragingly, introspective and self-critical, nuanced, and, at times, nostalgic. Many writers explore aspects of Iranian history and culture to seek clues to explain the persistence of the power of religion, the ease with which those in power are able to manipulate the masses, the anatomy of patriarchy, and the savagery of war.

  THE CURRENT SELECTION

  Based on the suggestions and submissions we received, the prose selections are divided into two categories.6 The first group is made up of writers who were already established and published before the revolution, and continued to write afterward. Most have experimented with different styles and subjects over the decades, but their preferred genres and themes were short stories or novels addressing power, corruption, class differences and injustices, the effects of dislocation, alienation, and the plight and weaknesses of intellectuals. In style, they range from Ahmad Mahmud, the social realist chronicler of war, poverty, and injustice (“Scorched Earth”), to Hushang Golshiri, the chronicler of doubt, uncertainty, and contradictions, whose writing is based on the premise that reality is ultimately unknowable (”The Victory Chronicle of the Magi”). Mahmud Dowlatabadi’s “The Mirror” is an allegory of alienation in which the author departs from his previous social realist style that poignantly explored the oppression and dislocation of Iranian peasants and tribes in his previous works Klidar and The Empty Place of Soluch. Esmail Fassih (Sorraya in a Coma), Hadi Khorsandi (“The Eyes Won’t Take it”), Nassim Khaksar (“The Grocer of Kharze-ville”), and Iraj Pezeshkzad (“Delayed Consequences of the Revolution”) try to portray the different stages of the experiences of rupture, dislocation, uncertainty of identity, and exile that followed the revolution for many Iranians. In the excerpt by Taghi Modarressi (The Book of Absent People) we observe the writer locating and inscribing the self in place and time by delving into the realm of memory.

  The second group is primarily made up of writers who began to write, publish, and be read after the revolution. This varied group addressed new and taboo subjects grounded in specific less ideological situations. Awareness of gender and writing from women’s points of view permeate these works, as do critiques of patriarchy, marriage traditions, and poverty. For example, Women Without Men, “Satan’s Stones,” “Mahbubeh and the Demon Ahl,” and “A Little Secret” all focus primarily or principally on the issue of gender and women’s oppression. In the work of Shahrnush Parsipur and Moniru Ravanipur, we can readily observe a form of magic realism set in Iranian historical and regional contexts. Though both Shahrnush Parsipur and Goli Taraghi wrote before the revolution, their most important work was done in the years after it, and it is interesting to see the influence of Freudian or Jungian psychoanalytical perspectives on their work.

  Some writers in this group are from the younger generation of writers who have rejected customary narrative rules and practices in their choices of genre, language, theme, and style. They believe that the complexities and contradictions of the contemporary world are best portrayed through ambivalence and through engaging the reader with possibilities of multiple readings. The word postmodern has often been used in connection with the unusual narrative techniques, nonlinear plots, and experimental approaches to time and space employed by this group. “Shatter the Stone Tooth” by Shahriyar Mandanipur is an ex- ample of this style, as is “White Rock” by Ghazi Rabihavi, who often writes about people marginal to society.

  Both groups have certain traits in common, signifying the continuity of the literary tradition in the face of rapidly moving events such as revolution, war, and the profound social flux that follows. Complex structures based on metaphor are common in these stories, as are the practices of mixing realism and surrealism, and creating ambivalence and nuance with words and meaning. A concern with regional issues, dialects, and cultural characteristics is evident. The gender issue has assumed a very important place in almost every work of fiction in contemporary Iran. Problematic or unresolved processes and events in Iranian history appear and reappear in the stories, as if there is a desire to find the key to contemporary problems by revisiting the past. The 1953 coup, for example, seems to be in the text, or the subtext, of a large number of the stories that appear in this volume. The 1979 revolution itself and the Iran-Iraq War (1980-1988), with its widespread loss of life and destruction, are also recurring themes.

  Finally, I would like to draw attention to the fact that these stories and poems reflect the diversity and hybridity of Iran and Iranian culture itself. Multip
le cultures, languages, ethnicities, religions, and world views have coexisted in this land for thousands of years and continue to do so despite the shocks of traumatic events or the passage of transient ideologies. The cosmopolitan Zoroastrian gentleman in Sor-raya in a Coma, the pious Muslim girl in “Ask the Migrating Birds,” the New York Times-reading Jewish couple in “A Room Full of Dust,” the gay couple in “White Rock,” and strong women are all familiar figures in our cultural landscape despite the stereotypes of Iranians constructed abroad.

  I mentioned above that most contemporary stories and novels have complex structures based on metaphor, a mix of realism and surrealism, and ambivalence with words and meaning. This is partly due to stylistic choices, but also partly due to the fact that being a writer in Iran has been a dangerous business. Novelist Esmail Fassih was only exaggerating slightly when in 1987 he wrote, “In the splendorous land of Iran, a good writer is a dead writer”7 In the 1980s and 1990s, since most of the political opposition to the regime had been repressed, reduced to silence, driven out of the country, or killed, intellectuals, writers, and journalists were considered to be at the forefront of the struggle for reform and democracy. In fact, not since the days of the Soviet Union have writers, intellectuals, and journalists been such an important element in the movement for reform, and, as a group, such an object of wrath, repression, and vilification by the state. The methods of repression have included various levels of censorship, economic pressures, imprisonment, torture, forced public confessions, and even assassination. From about 1992 until 2000, several writers, intellectuals, and dissidents were killed by vigilante groups directly linked to the security apparatus of the Islamic regime. The subsequent swift and persistent national and international outcry against these “serial murders” gave courage to the men and women of the literary community to continue their struggle for due process of law and freedom of expression.

  Ghazi Rabihavi’s “story” about censorship quoted below gives the reader a graphic idea of how writers have had to cope with the demands of the censor:

  Once upon a time, an Iranian writer wrote a 179-page-long novel, and like every other Iranian writer, presented it to the Ministry of Islamic Guidance to receive a publication permit. Then, the writer waited. The book began with the following passage: “She knew that once her husband had brought her a cup of coffee, she would feel better, like every other day. As she stood by the window, the wind slid gently over her brown arms, and her eyes were on the rising sun that was pulling itself up over the government buildings. It was a sunrise that was like a sunset.” After thirteen months spent climbing up the slippery ladder of bureaucracy, the Iranian writer finally managed to obtain an appointment with the director in charge of censorship. The director was just a head. His body was hidden behind the desk and it seemed to be reclining gently against something soft.8 The head delivered the following speech to the writer: “Unfortunately, your book has some small problems which cannot be corrected. I am certain you will agree with me. Take these first few sentences . . . nowhere in our noble culture will you find any woman who would allow herself to stand waiting for her husband to bring her a cup of coffee. OK? Well, the next problem is the image of the wind sliding over the naked arms, which is provocative and has sexual overtones. Finally, nowhere, in any noble culture will you find a sunrise that is like a sunset. Maybe it is a misprint. Here you are then. Here is your book. I hope you will write another book soon. We support you. Support you.” Then the head slid back under the desk.9

  While we are still on the topic of censorship, it must be pointed out that these are indeed strange times (my dear) not only in Iran, but in the United States as well. Recent rulings by the Office of Foreign Assets Control of the Treasury Department of the United States of America designated the commissioning, editing, or marketing of material written in Iran, Cuba, and Sudan as “prohibited exports of services” to enemy nations, unless a license was obtained from that department in advance. “Collaborative interaction” between a U.S. publisher and a writer from these countries was prohibited. According to PEN, the Professional/Scholarly Publishing division of the Association of American Publishers, the American Association of University Presses, and my own publisher Arcade, who joined together to file a lawsuit to change the regulations, this in effect meant that editors, translators, and publishers had to “seek a government license to carry on First Amendment-protected publishing activities or leave themselves open to criminal penalties.” In these days of the ascendance of transnationalism throughout the world, it certainly seems bizarre, if not downright shortsighted and irresponsible, to further limit the already meager lines of communication and understanding between peoples with differing perspectives. Rules and regulations such as these infringe on the freedom of expression and discourage editors and publishers from considering manuscripts from abroad, further isolating the American people from other cultures and points of view. After the lawsuit was filed, the Treasury Department issued new regulations authorizing most of the publishing activities that were previously prohibited.

  SELECTION PROCESS

  To make the selection process as representative of the will and taste of Iranian writers as possible, I sent out scores of letters to writers, poets, critics, anthologists, editors of literary journals, and university professors in Iran and throughout the world requesting their input and participation in this project. I also made two trips to Iran, where I consulted with many people in the literary community. The criteria for selection were: high-quality prose or poetry, written and (first) published in Persian since the revolution of 1979. Cultural and linguistic translatability was also added as a condition, since the anthology was meant to be accessible to the general reading public in the Western countries.

  The outpouring of response was heartwarming but daunting as well; as the rooms in my house became filled with piles and piles of letters, stories, books, and poems, some sent from remote towns and villages in Iran, I came to realize that making the selections fairly for such a volume would be extremely difficult. The literary journals sent from Iran and from various cities of Europe and the United States where exiles had settled gave testimony to a lively literary culture, and to raging debates among poets, writers, and critics concerning the current state of Iranian literature and the quality of this or that work.

  I am sure that I shall not be able to satisfy everyone with these choices, but I have tried to consider as many points of view as possible in the selections that have been made. I have also solicited the help of many readers who are first and foremost lovers of reading and literature, and not privy to disagreements in literary circles.

  Finally, I would like to point out that there were many more good stories and excerpts of novels and poems that could not be included for lack of space, translation, or permission problems. I deeply regret that the work of Zoya Pirzad, one of the best and most successful writers of this generation, and several other very gifted writers could not be published in this volume. It is my fervent hope that we will be able to publish a second volume in the near future and remedy these shortcomings.

  N.M.

  Footnotes

  1. For example, the Ten Nights of Poets and Writers Program at the Goethe Institute in Tehran, October 1977.

  2. Houra Yavari, “Modern Fiction in Persia” in Encyclopedia Iranica, ed. Ehsan Yarshater, vol. 9 fascicle 6.

  3. According to literary historians, many of these works were influenced by European naturalists like Emile Zola. See ibid. p. 585.

  4. Many writers made their living through teaching or writing for journals. A great number of them were purged from their teaching jobs, and journals were closed down.

  5. By “secular,” I do not necessarily mean that they are not believers; I mean that they believe in the separation of religion and state.

  6. Much of this categorization is for explanatory purposes only. Some writers from each group overlap with others and defy categorization in different stages of their writing careers.
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  7. Esmail Fassih, “The Status: A Day in the Life of a Contemporary Iranian Writer,” Third World Quarterly. 9, no. 3 (July 1987): 825.

  8. Many government censors were injured and handicapped veterans of the Iran-Iraq War. As poet Ahmad Shamlu recounted, for many years the chief censor for cinema was a blind man!

  9. Ghazi Rabihavi, “With the Lost Words,” reading in London, December 6, 1996, repr. in Index on Censorship, Spring 1997.

  Prose

  Part One

  Mahmud Dowlatabadi

  Mahmud Dowlatabadi was born in the village of Dowlatabad, in the province of Khorassan, in 1940. After attending elementary school in his native village, he moved to Tehran to pursue his education while working at a variety of odd jobs. In his village, he had performed in the traditional religious plays (ta’zieh) that recount the suffering and injustices that befell the Shi’a imams, and in Tehran he attended classes at a conservatory and worked in the theater. In 1969, he published his first stories in Desert Strata and in 1970, Two Stories. He was arrested by the Shahs secret police, SAVAK, and spent two years (1974-1976) in prison, but continued to write and publish stories throughout the 1970s.

  Dowlatabadi has gained his fame as a writer by portraying peasants, tribesmen, and workers struggling against injustice. Many of the events in his novels have been inspired by real events. He is one of the most prolific and respected writers of contemporary Iran.

  His two most important novels, Klidar (1978-1983) and The Empty Place of Soluch (1979), were published after the revolution. Klidar is a saga of the men and women of the tribes and villages in Khor-rassan and their clashes with the government in the 1940s. The Empty Place of Soluch focuses on the decline of village life in the 1960s. Dowlatabadi has also written many other stories and novels, including We Are of the People Too and The Spent Lives of Old People.