Cherish your joys. Embrace your loved ones. Celebrate the sweetness of the familiar. In the blink of an eye, everything can change.
Isaac Amin and his attractive wife Farnaz are Iranian first, Jewish second. Both grew up under the Shah, speaking Persian as their mother tongue. Thanks to Isaac’s industry and business acumen, they live a prosperous life in Tehran, with a holiday home in lovely, historic Shiraz. Their son Parviz attends university in America. Their daughter Shirin is still in school. Their Muslim servant Habibeh, who has worked in their household since Shirin was an infant, is practically a member of the family.
The Islamic revolution and the ouster of the Shah have stolen some of their comforts – no more parties or fashionable clothing – but despite the atmosphere of constant menace, the Amin family’s life continues more or less as before. Then comes the day when bearded, black-clothed guards appear at Isaac’s office, arrest him on the charge of spying for Israel, and throw him in prison. As far as Farnaz is concerned, Isaac has simply disappeared. She does what she can to search for him, drawing on reserves of strength she hadn’t realized she possessed. Meanwhile Isaac endures torture and terror, trying to maintain his sanity, knowing that every day could easily be his last.
In the U.S., Parviz knows nothing of this, but he struggles all the same, friendless and alone in a foreign culture. Nine year old Shirin silently wrestles with her fears and tries to understand how everything she’d accepted as normal could suddenly vanish.
The Septembers of Shiraz is a graceful, nuanced, heart-rending book, part memoir, part novel. The author herself fled Iran with her family at the age of ten. Obviously the book reflects her personal experiences. However, she imagines and portrays the perspectives of the adults in her world as well as her own child’s view. In the process, she paints a subtle, many-layered picture of the Persian culture she left behind. When we hear the word “Iran” in the West, we think of stern, black-robed Muslim clerics, fanatic terrorists and women in burkhas. This isn’t the world in which Ms. Sofer, and Shirin, grew up. That world included warm friendships, sensory delights, cherished traditions and a profound sense of history. In a sense, our view of Iran, the face of the revolution, is an aberration.
I found this book deeply moving, and at times, difficult to read. The descriptions of Isaac’s experience in prison, though not gratuitously violent, horrified me to the point that I put the book aside for several months, unable to stomach the nightmarish inhumanity of his treatment. Yet Dalia Sofer does not paint the guards as fundamentally evil men. Like every character in the book, they have suffered from injustice and are adapting to dangerous times.
The gorgeous prose in The Septembers of Shiraz pulled me back to the book, even though I knew Isaac might well perish during his hellish sojourn in captivity. If the real world individuals who inspired the novel could endure the horrors of their times, surely I as a reader could do so as well. Indeed, it was almost a responsibility, to follow the story to the end and appreciate its hard truths.
I don’t think I will spoil your experience by telling you that Isaac is in fact released eventually, and that the Amins manage to escape from Iran, as the author did. However, the costs are high. Abandoning your country, your language, your friends and your memories must be painful beyond words. Still, Ms. Sofer manages to capture the paradoxical emotions aroused when you choose a life of exile.
If you’re seeking light reading, I don’t recommend this book. On the other hand, if you’re not afraid to read a bit of historical truth, a gut-wrenching yet heart-warming portrayal of one family’s struggle to survive, you shouldn’t miss it.