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For the Sun After Long Nights: The Story of Iran's Women-Led Uprising
A moving exploration of the 2022 women-led protests in Iran, as told through the interwoven stories of two Iranian journalists
In 2022, in response to the killing of Mahsa Jina Amini, a 22-year-old Kurdish woman who died in police custody after being arrested for not wearing her hijab, thousands of Iranians – mostly women – took to the streets in protest. Fatemeh Jamalpour had just returned to the country after working in London, and despite the threat of imprisonment or death for her work as a journalist, joined the throngs of people fighting to topple Iran’s religious extremist regime.
Across the globe, Nilo Tabrizy, who emigrated from Iran with her family as a child, was covering the protests and state violence in Iran, knowing that spotlighting the women on the frontlines and the systemic injustice of the Iranian government meant she would not be able to safely return to Iran in the future.
Though they had only met once in person, Nilo and Fatemeh corresponded constantly, often through encrypted platforms in order to protect Fatemeh's privacy and security. As the protests continued to unfold, the sense of sisterhood they shared led them to embark on an effort to document the spirit and legacy of the movement, and the history, geopolitics, and influences that led to this point. At once deeply personal and assiduously reported, For the Sun After Long Nights offers two perspectives on what it means, as a journalist, to cover the stories that are closest to one's heart—both from the frontlines and from afar.
In 2022, in response to the killing of Mahsa Jina Amini, a 22-year-old Kurdish woman who died in police custody after being arrested for not wearing her hijab, thousands of Iranians – mostly women – took to the streets in protest. Fatemeh Jamalpour had just returned to the country after working in London, and despite the threat of imprisonment or death for her work as a journalist, joined the throngs of people fighting to topple Iran’s religious extremist regime.
Across the globe, Nilo Tabrizy, who emigrated from Iran with her family as a child, was covering the protests and state violence in Iran, knowing that spotlighting the women on the frontlines and the systemic injustice of the Iranian government meant she would not be able to safely return to Iran in the future.
Though they had only met once in person, Nilo and Fatemeh corresponded constantly, often through encrypted platforms in order to protect Fatemeh's privacy and security. As the protests continued to unfold, the sense of sisterhood they shared led them to embark on an effort to document the spirit and legacy of the movement, and the history, geopolitics, and influences that led to this point. At once deeply personal and assiduously reported, For the Sun After Long Nights offers two perspectives on what it means, as a journalist, to cover the stories that are closest to one's heart—both from the frontlines and from afar.
336 pages, Hardcover
Published September 16, 2025
125 people are currently reading
7793 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 62 reviews
January 7, 2026
This is a very powerful book. It describes the journey of two Iranian women journalists. One, Nilo Tabrizy, the co-author of the book is a virtual exile from her country; the other is Fatemeh Jamalpour who chose to remain behind in Iran. The story unwinds as both of these women respond to the death of a Kurdish woman named Masha Jina Amini who was arrested and beaten to death by Iranian morality police. Each woman describes her own life and how they reached their current situations as well as how they met. The story focuses on women protesters and their view of the situation in Iran. We see glimpses of how the people celebrated the fall of the Shah and then the much worse suffering and oppression under the clerics of the Islamic Republic police state.
Although I strongly support women's right to be treated as fairly as is not a topic that I spend a lot of time reading about. I read voraciously and happened upon this book at a bookstore in Massachusetts during the last week of the year. I am loathe to leave a bookstore without spending money and this one looked good. It turned out to be better than good. Even if you are lukewarm on the issue of women's rights this is a hell of a good book.
I strongly recommend this book for anyone interested in women's rights or the oppressive theocracy that rules Iran. Well done Ms. Jalampour and Ms. Tabrizy.
Although I strongly support women's right to be treated as fairly as is not a topic that I spend a lot of time reading about. I read voraciously and happened upon this book at a bookstore in Massachusetts during the last week of the year. I am loathe to leave a bookstore without spending money and this one looked good. It turned out to be better than good. Even if you are lukewarm on the issue of women's rights this is a hell of a good book.
I strongly recommend this book for anyone interested in women's rights or the oppressive theocracy that rules Iran. Well done Ms. Jalampour and Ms. Tabrizy.
September 15, 2025
Thank you to Pantheon Books and NetGalley for the free e-ARC in exchange for an honest review
If you read only one new nonfiction release this year, let it be this one. A story about this has never been told in this way before, so poignantly, so powerfully.
FTSALN is billed as a collaborative account of the 2022 women-led uprisings through Iran against the repressive Islamic Republic, kicked off by the regime’s brutal murder of 22-year-old Mahsa Jîna Amini, accused of defying their hijab rule. Except it’s not only about this one event, but the course of the last 100 or so years, and across the Iranian diaspora, that have led to this moment.
The book is divided into four parts:
Part 1 documents the protests kicked off by Jîna’s murder in September 2022.
Part 2 zooms out and gives us an account of the corruption and US-backed coups that led to the establishment of the repressive Islamic Republic that is still in power today.
In Part 3, we find out more about Fatemah and Nilo’s lives: Fatemah’s extraordinary and brave journey of standing up for herself and the rights of the oppressed in her country, and Nilo’s struggles with being part of the diaspora, feeling both drawn to and disconnected from the two worlds she occupies.
Part 4 gives a closer look at some of the extraordinary fighters and martyrs who have put everything on the line to fight for human rights in Iran.
Americans, take note: everyone profiled in this book is jaw-droppingly brave. From young to old, across class divides and ethnic groups, these people risk their degrees, jobs, and lives to attend protests, uncover injustices, report on corruption, and more. They know that those in power have taken their diverse and beautiful country hostage via repressive policies and practices that benefit the few at the expense of the many, and they know that there is no greater fight than the fight to reclaim their beloved homeland.
For a while now, I have known of the beauty of Persian culture, but FOR THE SUN is filled with dazzlingly poetic quotes by famous writers; blazing lines from resistors; and sentences so rich; so rich, so poignant, that they made me gasp and stop in my tracks. Both Jamalpour and Tabrizy’s alternating chapters are compelling, but it is Jamalpour’s voice in particular that rings like a once-in-a-generation bell. This is a woman whose skill at journalism matches and magnifies her innate bravery and consistent morals.
If I have one quibble with FTSALN, it would be with its organization. I’m glad that Part 2 gives readers an important history lesson about the last 100 or so years in Iran, but I wonder if it would have been more effective had that information appeared earlier on. I’d hate for readers, particularly American ones, on either side of the divide, to come away from this still pitying Iranian woman and wanting to swoop in like Western saviors to deliver them from sharia law, or to not understand the U.S. government’s meddlesome involvement in creating the mess and corruption that is there now. That would be missing the point. These women don’t need saviors; they are their own saviors. They don’t need our pity; they need our admiration and our voice in support of theirs.
FOR THE SUN AFTER LONG NIGHTS is not only a necessary book, but it is also beautifully written. I hope we can all take from it the lesson that our fights against oppression and fascism are interconnected, and that we must be willing to sacrifice much, much more than we are comfortable with doing so right now if we want to have a hope of overthrowing oppressive power and building a better and safer world for all.
[ 7 Sept 2025 ]
Holy shit. My heart is in pieces, I’m crying buckets, and I’m a wreck. This will be one of the most important reads of this year.
Full review to come.
If you read only one new nonfiction release this year, let it be this one. A story about this has never been told in this way before, so poignantly, so powerfully.
FTSALN is billed as a collaborative account of the 2022 women-led uprisings through Iran against the repressive Islamic Republic, kicked off by the regime’s brutal murder of 22-year-old Mahsa Jîna Amini, accused of defying their hijab rule. Except it’s not only about this one event, but the course of the last 100 or so years, and across the Iranian diaspora, that have led to this moment.
The book is divided into four parts:
Part 1 documents the protests kicked off by Jîna’s murder in September 2022.
Part 2 zooms out and gives us an account of the corruption and US-backed coups that led to the establishment of the repressive Islamic Republic that is still in power today.
In Part 3, we find out more about Fatemah and Nilo’s lives: Fatemah’s extraordinary and brave journey of standing up for herself and the rights of the oppressed in her country, and Nilo’s struggles with being part of the diaspora, feeling both drawn to and disconnected from the two worlds she occupies.
Part 4 gives a closer look at some of the extraordinary fighters and martyrs who have put everything on the line to fight for human rights in Iran.
Americans, take note: everyone profiled in this book is jaw-droppingly brave. From young to old, across class divides and ethnic groups, these people risk their degrees, jobs, and lives to attend protests, uncover injustices, report on corruption, and more. They know that those in power have taken their diverse and beautiful country hostage via repressive policies and practices that benefit the few at the expense of the many, and they know that there is no greater fight than the fight to reclaim their beloved homeland.
For a while now, I have known of the beauty of Persian culture, but FOR THE SUN is filled with dazzlingly poetic quotes by famous writers; blazing lines from resistors; and sentences so rich; so rich, so poignant, that they made me gasp and stop in my tracks. Both Jamalpour and Tabrizy’s alternating chapters are compelling, but it is Jamalpour’s voice in particular that rings like a once-in-a-generation bell. This is a woman whose skill at journalism matches and magnifies her innate bravery and consistent morals.
If I have one quibble with FTSALN, it would be with its organization. I’m glad that Part 2 gives readers an important history lesson about the last 100 or so years in Iran, but I wonder if it would have been more effective had that information appeared earlier on. I’d hate for readers, particularly American ones, on either side of the divide, to come away from this still pitying Iranian woman and wanting to swoop in like Western saviors to deliver them from sharia law, or to not understand the U.S. government’s meddlesome involvement in creating the mess and corruption that is there now. That would be missing the point. These women don’t need saviors; they are their own saviors. They don’t need our pity; they need our admiration and our voice in support of theirs.
FOR THE SUN AFTER LONG NIGHTS is not only a necessary book, but it is also beautifully written. I hope we can all take from it the lesson that our fights against oppression and fascism are interconnected, and that we must be willing to sacrifice much, much more than we are comfortable with doing so right now if we want to have a hope of overthrowing oppressive power and building a better and safer world for all.
[ 7 Sept 2025 ]
Holy shit. My heart is in pieces, I’m crying buckets, and I’m a wreck. This will be one of the most important reads of this year.
Full review to come.
July 28, 2025
For the Sun After Long Nights is a book about the Women, Life, Freedom movement in Iran, told by Iranian American journalist Nilo Tabrizy and Iranian journalist Fatemeh Jamalpour. Both authors report from their own experiences covering Iran. While Nilo speaks about the grief of a country she can no longer return to and having to witness some of the atrocities from afar, Fatemeh speaks about going out to protests, being watched, interrogated, and being told she’s going to go to prison.
I struggle to think of how to review this book. I have a PhD researching North Korea and, lately, I’ve been intrigued by Iran because of some vague similarities (exile activism, sanctions, nuclearization, complicated international relations, limited social rights, rampant human rights abuses), with the big difference that Iran doesn’t necessarily block international travel. During my career, I’ve often seen the two countries compared, with the conclusion that North Korea is worse. And now, having finished this book, I wonder. Is it?
Not that I think the countries should be compared or that one should be crowned the less awful, but I don’t think I was ready for what I read. It took me a long time to finish because the chapters are packed with details about protests, littered with names of people executed, persecuted, disappeared, and shot by the Iranian regime. I googled them all. I tried to read more into the background of everything. And while I’m sure this book didn’t even scratch the surface, it does make me wonder how Iranians can carry this weight.
The book is divided into three sections: Women, Life, Freedom. Women covers the death of Mahsa Jina Amini and the protests that unfolded. Life explores the lives of Nilo and Fatemeh, both in their journalism, in how it impacted them, and in their friendship. Freedom is perhaps one of the most overwhelming sections, as it focuses on some of the many lives lost. My heart was very heavy throughout the book, which I think speaks volumes about its content, because the writing isn’t melodramatic, it just presents facts. Bits and pieces of protests, of interrogations. It was just so hard to read.
As usual, my review is going to be a bit all over the place. I’ll just ramble about what I loved.
- I adored how Baraye by Shervin Hajipour was added into the story and influenced each chapter’s title. I’ve also been listening to Shervin and Toomaj for a few weeks during my morning runs (and y’all need to listen to Toomaj’s new song and read the lyrics cuz, my dude your balls are bigger than Iran for putting this out when you're still there: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TPiq8...).
- I loved Nilo’s chapters. But Fatemeh had me in awe with her fierceness and courage. At one point, the book mentions how Fatemeh was told her voice was too loud. And I’m here thinking: the world needs more angry women. No woman should be afraid her father might kill her in an honor killing, like she briefly was. I wish I could read her articles in the newspaper Shargh, some of which sounded so interesting. I’m just in awe of her. All the book I worried about her, because she wrote as if she was in Iran and I was just HOW are you publishing this book? But this is addressed at the end so I'm no longer internally screaming.
- Linking this to my comment about music earlier: I’m a runner. Fatemeh includes a short chapter on women and sports in Iran. Swimming and bodybuilding are banned for women, and they cannot use the same facilities as men, which impacts the quality of training and also salaries. I just loved that this was a chapter. It made me think of the Iranian-Israeli movie Tatami about an Iranian judoka threatened by the Iranian government (highly recommended).
- The amount I learned from this book was overwhelming: from April 20, 2000, when Khamenei canceled all reforms and intensified repression tactics, to Bloody November, to how minorities are treated in Iran, to how Evin's bad but Qarchak is hell, to the history of hijab laws in Iran (i.e., maghnaeh at schools, the unveiling of 1936, kashf-e hijab). I liked to read about the paranoia and paralysis that comes from internalized authoritarianism, it reminded me of North Korea stuff.
- My eye twitched at the bit where they explain Khomeini called women 'human makers' oh and this brilliant sentence where a woman explains why women should wear hijabs: "Our religious husbands fall into sin when they see women without hijab."
- The authors didn’t let the people become just names on a page but they explained what happened to those who resisted the regime and its gender-based apartheid: Mahsa Jina Amini, Neda Agha Soltan, Nika Shakarami, Mohsen Shekari, Hadith Najafi, Khodanur Lojei, Javad Heydari, Niloufar Bayani, the twins Elaneh and Elnaz Mohammadi, and SO many more who faced repression or were killed. I especially loved that the book included good things to remember them by. Not Khodanur Lojei shackled and thirsty with a water bottle out of reach, but Khodanur dancing. Mohsen gaming and singing. Nika's last brave words to her auntie.
I'll finish with some quotes that I loved/gave me goosebumps (I'll edit them once the book is out since my copy is unedited):
Word by word, story by story, we have survived our oppressors by force, with narrative as our lifeline.
---
We, Iranian women, are not the Islamic Republic's enemy, we are its negation.
---
"It is better to know that the spots on the mother's body are not hereditary but the remnants of a great battle."
---
We, the women prisoners, stood in front of the door without flinching. (...) There was a moment in the corridor where there was nothing but the echoing of women shouting "Mohsen Shekari." (...) The prisoners on both sides of the door were shouting, "Death to the dictator," "Death to the Islamic Republic," "Woman, Life Freedom," and sang "Bella Ciao" without stopping.
---
For those of us in Iran who have lived through destruction, war, and turmoil, poetry and literature have always been our shelter. In some cultures, poetry is for the elite. Yet in Iran, it's for the masses. Nearly every Iranian, regardless of economic status or educational level, knows the great Persian poets. Even those who cannot read can recite, from memory, a favorite verse written by Hafez or Rumi. Poetry has seeped its way into our being; it's part of our very Iranianness. And it isn't only delicate or whimsical. It is now and has always been political.
I struggle to think of how to review this book. I have a PhD researching North Korea and, lately, I’ve been intrigued by Iran because of some vague similarities (exile activism, sanctions, nuclearization, complicated international relations, limited social rights, rampant human rights abuses), with the big difference that Iran doesn’t necessarily block international travel. During my career, I’ve often seen the two countries compared, with the conclusion that North Korea is worse. And now, having finished this book, I wonder. Is it?
Not that I think the countries should be compared or that one should be crowned the less awful, but I don’t think I was ready for what I read. It took me a long time to finish because the chapters are packed with details about protests, littered with names of people executed, persecuted, disappeared, and shot by the Iranian regime. I googled them all. I tried to read more into the background of everything. And while I’m sure this book didn’t even scratch the surface, it does make me wonder how Iranians can carry this weight.
The book is divided into three sections: Women, Life, Freedom. Women covers the death of Mahsa Jina Amini and the protests that unfolded. Life explores the lives of Nilo and Fatemeh, both in their journalism, in how it impacted them, and in their friendship. Freedom is perhaps one of the most overwhelming sections, as it focuses on some of the many lives lost. My heart was very heavy throughout the book, which I think speaks volumes about its content, because the writing isn’t melodramatic, it just presents facts. Bits and pieces of protests, of interrogations. It was just so hard to read.
As usual, my review is going to be a bit all over the place. I’ll just ramble about what I loved.
- I adored how Baraye by Shervin Hajipour was added into the story and influenced each chapter’s title. I’ve also been listening to Shervin and Toomaj for a few weeks during my morning runs (and y’all need to listen to Toomaj’s new song and read the lyrics cuz, my dude your balls are bigger than Iran for putting this out when you're still there: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TPiq8...).
- I loved Nilo’s chapters. But Fatemeh had me in awe with her fierceness and courage. At one point, the book mentions how Fatemeh was told her voice was too loud. And I’m here thinking: the world needs more angry women. No woman should be afraid her father might kill her in an honor killing, like she briefly was. I wish I could read her articles in the newspaper Shargh, some of which sounded so interesting. I’m just in awe of her. All the book I worried about her, because she wrote as if she was in Iran and I was just HOW are you publishing this book? But this is addressed at the end so I'm no longer internally screaming.
- Linking this to my comment about music earlier: I’m a runner. Fatemeh includes a short chapter on women and sports in Iran. Swimming and bodybuilding are banned for women, and they cannot use the same facilities as men, which impacts the quality of training and also salaries. I just loved that this was a chapter. It made me think of the Iranian-Israeli movie Tatami about an Iranian judoka threatened by the Iranian government (highly recommended).
- The amount I learned from this book was overwhelming: from April 20, 2000, when Khamenei canceled all reforms and intensified repression tactics, to Bloody November, to how minorities are treated in Iran, to how Evin's bad but Qarchak is hell, to the history of hijab laws in Iran (i.e., maghnaeh at schools, the unveiling of 1936, kashf-e hijab). I liked to read about the paranoia and paralysis that comes from internalized authoritarianism, it reminded me of North Korea stuff.
- My eye twitched at the bit where they explain Khomeini called women 'human makers' oh and this brilliant sentence where a woman explains why women should wear hijabs: "Our religious husbands fall into sin when they see women without hijab."
- The authors didn’t let the people become just names on a page but they explained what happened to those who resisted the regime and its gender-based apartheid: Mahsa Jina Amini, Neda Agha Soltan, Nika Shakarami, Mohsen Shekari, Hadith Najafi, Khodanur Lojei, Javad Heydari, Niloufar Bayani, the twins Elaneh and Elnaz Mohammadi, and SO many more who faced repression or were killed. I especially loved that the book included good things to remember them by. Not Khodanur Lojei shackled and thirsty with a water bottle out of reach, but Khodanur dancing. Mohsen gaming and singing. Nika's last brave words to her auntie.
I'll finish with some quotes that I loved/gave me goosebumps (I'll edit them once the book is out since my copy is unedited):
Word by word, story by story, we have survived our oppressors by force, with narrative as our lifeline.
---
We, Iranian women, are not the Islamic Republic's enemy, we are its negation.
---
"It is better to know that the spots on the mother's body are not hereditary but the remnants of a great battle."
---
We, the women prisoners, stood in front of the door without flinching. (...) There was a moment in the corridor where there was nothing but the echoing of women shouting "Mohsen Shekari." (...) The prisoners on both sides of the door were shouting, "Death to the dictator," "Death to the Islamic Republic," "Woman, Life Freedom," and sang "Bella Ciao" without stopping.
---
For those of us in Iran who have lived through destruction, war, and turmoil, poetry and literature have always been our shelter. In some cultures, poetry is for the elite. Yet in Iran, it's for the masses. Nearly every Iranian, regardless of economic status or educational level, knows the great Persian poets. Even those who cannot read can recite, from memory, a favorite verse written by Hafez or Rumi. Poetry has seeped its way into our being; it's part of our very Iranianness. And it isn't only delicate or whimsical. It is now and has always been political.
October 10, 2025
a broader scope than i expected - it’s as much about the practice of journalism; the experience of exile & the diaspora; the political & economic history of iran; life under the current regime, especially as it is experienced by women and religious & ethnic minorities; cultural norms & language; etc. as it is about the woman life freedom protests in 2022 in particular. but it thoroughly convinced me that such a wide lens (and the incorporation of the authors’ own stories and perspectives) is absolutely necessary to understand and appreciate that movement. what an incredible feat it is to have made this book. impossible to read without a deep respect for all the authors have sacrificed for this writing - and all their people have sacrificed for this work. humbling & devastating & hopeful
Read
February 1, 2026One of these authors was exiled from their home, Iran, for writing this book. You should read it.
October 25, 2025
wowwww this book exceeded my expectations in so many ways! I was intrigued by the actual subtitle and premise, but the story contained within these pages does so much more than its pitch.
the story this tells about journalism and culture and friendship is so wonderful. The very form and style of the narrative supports its message. super interesting take on a traditional nonfiction/history, and I really think this would be such great required reading for a journalism class.
the story this tells about journalism and culture and friendship is so wonderful. The very form and style of the narrative supports its message. super interesting take on a traditional nonfiction/history, and I really think this would be such great required reading for a journalism class.
August 11, 2025
We get an amazing primary source retelling of the recent women's uprising in Iran, both from women who actually participated and escaped execution, and by a journalist who focused on their story as it unfolded. Highly recommended read.
February 9, 2026
how about i get even *more* political:)
September 23, 2025
If there is one non-fiction book you plan to read this year, make it For the Sun After Long Nights
Thank you, PRH Audio, for the gifted copy of this book {partner}
Genre: Non-Fiction
Format: 🎧📖
Pub Date: 9.16.2025
Pages: 336
Star Rating: ☆☆☆☆☆
“Standing for freedom is more beautiful than freedom itself.”
The amount of bravery that every single person in this book showcased gives me chills just thinking about. I can’timagine putting everything you have on the line, but that is what the women (and men) of this book did and are still doing — and it’s the name of freedom.
It’s not hard to see the parallels between what happened in Iran and what is currently happening around the world. It made me uncomfortable, angry, depressed, and at the same time hopeful.
However, one of the most significant things this book brought to my life is empathy. Empathy for the Iranian people and the decades of brutality that they have endured. Yet, despite all of this, they continue to persist and work to find an end to the violence.
Audiobook Review: ☆☆☆☆☆
If audiobooks are your cup of tea, I highly recommend this audiobook, as both authors narrate it. Hearing both women recount their own stories made this book even more incredible. I could feel their sadness and bravery radiating with every word they spoke.
Read if you enjoy:
❤️🩹 Emotional Reads
🗣️ Dual POV
💪🏼 Stories of Empowerment
✊🏼 Female Solidarity
I absolutely recommend reading 'For the Sun After Long Nights,' but please tread carefully, as it is a heavy read and may be best read in segments.
______
Follow me on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/chaptersofc...
Follow me on Goodreads:https://www.goodreads.com/chaptersofc...
Follow me on StoryGraph:https://www.instagram.com/chaptersofc...
Thank you, PRH Audio, for the gifted copy of this book {partner}
Genre: Non-Fiction
Format: 🎧📖
Pub Date: 9.16.2025
Pages: 336
Star Rating: ☆☆☆☆☆
“Standing for freedom is more beautiful than freedom itself.”
The amount of bravery that every single person in this book showcased gives me chills just thinking about. I can’timagine putting everything you have on the line, but that is what the women (and men) of this book did and are still doing — and it’s the name of freedom.
It’s not hard to see the parallels between what happened in Iran and what is currently happening around the world. It made me uncomfortable, angry, depressed, and at the same time hopeful.
However, one of the most significant things this book brought to my life is empathy. Empathy for the Iranian people and the decades of brutality that they have endured. Yet, despite all of this, they continue to persist and work to find an end to the violence.
Audiobook Review: ☆☆☆☆☆
If audiobooks are your cup of tea, I highly recommend this audiobook, as both authors narrate it. Hearing both women recount their own stories made this book even more incredible. I could feel their sadness and bravery radiating with every word they spoke.
Read if you enjoy:
❤️🩹 Emotional Reads
🗣️ Dual POV
💪🏼 Stories of Empowerment
✊🏼 Female Solidarity
I absolutely recommend reading 'For the Sun After Long Nights,' but please tread carefully, as it is a heavy read and may be best read in segments.
______
Follow me on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/chaptersofc...
Follow me on Goodreads:https://www.goodreads.com/chaptersofc...
Follow me on StoryGraph:https://www.instagram.com/chaptersofc...
September 28, 2025
A must read about the Women, Life, Freedom movement and the courageous women who participated in and covered the protests, including the two authors who risk indefinite separation from their homeland as they expose the oppression and abuses of the Iranian regime. Be prepared for a lot of learning and a lot of feels! (5/5)
January 6, 2026
expected a much drier read, but this was far from that. great writing with so much depth. i even enjoyed the explanations of methodology. infuriating, inspiring, maddening. how do you move on from this!
September 24, 2025
NBA WINNER 2025
October 17, 2025
Man, that was TOUGH in some places. Loved the dual-narrative style. A fantastic book that should be required reading.
November 3, 2025
REVIEW TBA
December 30, 2025
Best book of 2025. No words
January 21, 2026
a quick, comprehensive, and beautifully written book about iranian woman and their role in the protests in iran
December 27, 2025
2.5 stars. I got this book in a giveaway in exchange for an honest review.
It’s important to read and learn about other cultures. It’s important to learn about current events that are affecting people other than yourself. This book covered a lot of historical and current events in Iran that aren’t easy to hear about. While it was well written it felt chaotic and hard to follow which events were currently t and which were historical. There were so many names and words in Persian that were also hard to follow. It wasn’t as impactful for me as it could have been because I struggled with a lot of different aspects of the writing itself.
It’s important to read and learn about other cultures. It’s important to learn about current events that are affecting people other than yourself. This book covered a lot of historical and current events in Iran that aren’t easy to hear about. While it was well written it felt chaotic and hard to follow which events were currently t and which were historical. There were so many names and words in Persian that were also hard to follow. It wasn’t as impactful for me as it could have been because I struggled with a lot of different aspects of the writing itself.
September 24, 2025
For the Sun After Long Nights is not a book that merely recounts events; it inhabits them. From the very first pages, Fatemeh Jamalpour places us in Tehran’s streets, among the women who dared to lift their voices, lift their heads, lift their hair, and reclaim the autonomy that the state had long sought to confine. Her reporting is visceral, immediate, almost cinematic in its intensity, but it is also intimate. It is the story of the woman behind the camera lens, the journalist behind the microphone, the daughter returning to her father’s house, the sister running with her peers, the mother whispering courage to her child. Every alleyway, every chant, every confrontation with the IRGC is rendered with such precision that one feels the heat of the pavement, the weight of surveillance, the sting of fear that permeates every breath.
Alongside Fatemeh’s unflinching on-the-ground account, Nilo Tabrizy offers a contrapuntal voice: one that is observant, measured, deeply analytical. From New York, she traces the movement’s ripples across borders, through screens, encrypted messages, and digital archives. She maps the historical currents—the weight of generations, the legacy of previous uprisings, the cumulative effect of systemic repression on women, minorities, and intellectuals. Where Fatemeh moves with immediacy, Nilo contextualizes, weaving in geopolitical analysis, historical perspective, and the painstaking work of ensuring that the stories of those on the ground are neither flattened nor forgotten. The dialogue between their voices—one intimate and immediate, the other reflective and global—creates a rich, layered tapestry that captures both the lived experience of resistance and the broader meaning of these acts for society, for history, for memory itself.
The book’s structural rhythm mirrors the cyclical nature of the movement it chronicles. Chapter after chapter alternates between moments of raw confrontation—streets cordoned by riot police, chants against systemic oppression, women facing arrests, beatings, or worse—and reflective pauses that examine the meaning of these moments: what it means to bear witness, to mourn, to document, to survive, to hope. In doing so, the text inhabits a duality that is both exhausting and exhilarating, reflecting the lived reality of the Woman, Life, Freedom movement. There is terror and courage, despair and solidarity, grief and laughter, repression and defiance. The book refuses to simplify, refusing to distill heroism into neat narratives; instead, it luxuriates in complexity, in the moral and ethical ambiguity of activism under an authoritarian state.
One of the book’s most remarkable achievements is its insistence on intersectionality and inclusivity. From the urban centers of Tehran to the marginalized communities of Baluchestan, from the courageous defiance of young students to the steadfast moral authority of mothers, Fatemeh and Nilo ensure that no perspective is marginalized. The text is unafraid to grapple with the additional layers of oppression faced by ethnic minorities, LGBTQ+ individuals, and economically disadvantaged communities, showing how courage manifests differently depending on context, but how resilience remains universal. The narrative is also acutely aware of the costs of activism: arrests, threats, exile, grief, and the haunting emotional weight carried by those who survive. Yet even in depicting these costs, the book emphasizes the sustaining power of solidarity, shared purpose, and communal memory.
The prose itself is lyrical without being ornamental, reflecting a voice that is at once journalistic and deeply human. Fatemeh’s passages pulse with immediacy: the cadence of chants, the rhythm of running feet, the sharp punctuation of fear and adrenaline. Nilo’s sections, in contrast, carry a reflective and investigative precision, often layering context and analysis without diluting the emotional resonance of Fatemeh’s frontlines. Together, the voices create a symphony of perspective that alternates between heartbeats and historical commentary, between embodied presence and analytical reflection. The result is a text that feels alive—never passive, never distant—inviting readers into the moral, political, and emotional stakes of the uprising.
Throughout the narrative, symbolism is deftly employed. Acts as simple as cutting hair, lifting a headscarf, or stepping into a street become acts of defiance and reclaiming agency, imbued with both personal and collective meaning. Graffiti, murals, chants, and digital documentation extend the life of these acts beyond immediate physical spaces, transforming ephemeral gestures into enduring symbols of resistance. The repeated invocation of “Jin, Jîyan, Azadî” resonates like a heartbeat throughout the text, reminding readers that the struggle is both bodily and moral, immediate and enduring.
Equally compelling is the treatment of grief and memory. The book does not shy away from the human toll of resistance: the deaths of young women like Mahsa Jîna Amini, the arrested intellectuals, the families torn apart, the persistent fear and emotional exhaustion. Yet grief is portrayed as a form of moral and political fuel. Funerals, vigils, murals, and memorials are acts of solidarity, assertion, and historical preservation. Mourning is not passive; it becomes a dynamic, generative force, sustaining courage and amplifying the movement’s ethical and emotional weight. In this, the book is as much about documenting courage as it is about preserving dignity and memory in the face of systematic erasure.
The final sections of the book, particularly Part III—AZADÎ / AZADI, FREEDOM—shift toward hope, aspiration, and vision for the future. Youth, cultural expression, and intergenerational solidarity emerge as central motifs. Figures like Kian and the symbolic rainbow represent not just hope but inclusivity, resilience, and the transformative power of imagination and aspiration. Even amidst exile, distance, and the ongoing threat of repression, the book emphasizes that activism continues through storytelling, reporting, mentorship, and the moral obligation to bear witness. Hope is not naïve; it is deliberate, intentional, and sustained by collective effort and unwavering courage.
For the Sun After Long Nights ultimately succeeds because it is neither merely reportage nor mere memoir; it is a synthesis of lived experience, investigative precision, and ethical reflection. It honors both the personal and the political, the immediate and the enduring, the local and the global. The book captures the full humanity of its subjects—their courage, sorrow, fear, resilience, and moral commitment—without flattening them into archetypes. It asks readers to not only witness but to feel, to recognize both the beauty and cost of resistance, and to understand that activism is inseparable from ethics, memory, and hope.
This is a book that lingers. It lingers in the mind and the body, echoing in the reader’s imagination as if one were walking alongside Fatemeh through Tehran’s streets, hearing the chants, smelling the dust, feeling the tension, and yet witnessing the unwavering courage of women who refuse to be silenced. It is a book that challenges assumptions, broadens understanding, and elevates moral awareness. It is meticulous in research, expansive in scope, and profoundly human in storytelling.
Rating: 91/100
In sum, For the Sun After Long Nights is an extraordinary work of journalism, memoir, and moral witness. It is at once intimate and expansive, urgent and reflective, heartbreaking and inspiring. It is a testament to the courage of women in Iran, the power of solidarity, and the enduring hope that even in darkness, light persists. This book does not merely recount history; it insists that readers inhabit it, understand it, and carry its lessons forward. It is a profound chronicle of resistance, grief, hope, and the unwavering pursuit of freedom.
Alongside Fatemeh’s unflinching on-the-ground account, Nilo Tabrizy offers a contrapuntal voice: one that is observant, measured, deeply analytical. From New York, she traces the movement’s ripples across borders, through screens, encrypted messages, and digital archives. She maps the historical currents—the weight of generations, the legacy of previous uprisings, the cumulative effect of systemic repression on women, minorities, and intellectuals. Where Fatemeh moves with immediacy, Nilo contextualizes, weaving in geopolitical analysis, historical perspective, and the painstaking work of ensuring that the stories of those on the ground are neither flattened nor forgotten. The dialogue between their voices—one intimate and immediate, the other reflective and global—creates a rich, layered tapestry that captures both the lived experience of resistance and the broader meaning of these acts for society, for history, for memory itself.
The book’s structural rhythm mirrors the cyclical nature of the movement it chronicles. Chapter after chapter alternates between moments of raw confrontation—streets cordoned by riot police, chants against systemic oppression, women facing arrests, beatings, or worse—and reflective pauses that examine the meaning of these moments: what it means to bear witness, to mourn, to document, to survive, to hope. In doing so, the text inhabits a duality that is both exhausting and exhilarating, reflecting the lived reality of the Woman, Life, Freedom movement. There is terror and courage, despair and solidarity, grief and laughter, repression and defiance. The book refuses to simplify, refusing to distill heroism into neat narratives; instead, it luxuriates in complexity, in the moral and ethical ambiguity of activism under an authoritarian state.
One of the book’s most remarkable achievements is its insistence on intersectionality and inclusivity. From the urban centers of Tehran to the marginalized communities of Baluchestan, from the courageous defiance of young students to the steadfast moral authority of mothers, Fatemeh and Nilo ensure that no perspective is marginalized. The text is unafraid to grapple with the additional layers of oppression faced by ethnic minorities, LGBTQ+ individuals, and economically disadvantaged communities, showing how courage manifests differently depending on context, but how resilience remains universal. The narrative is also acutely aware of the costs of activism: arrests, threats, exile, grief, and the haunting emotional weight carried by those who survive. Yet even in depicting these costs, the book emphasizes the sustaining power of solidarity, shared purpose, and communal memory.
The prose itself is lyrical without being ornamental, reflecting a voice that is at once journalistic and deeply human. Fatemeh’s passages pulse with immediacy: the cadence of chants, the rhythm of running feet, the sharp punctuation of fear and adrenaline. Nilo’s sections, in contrast, carry a reflective and investigative precision, often layering context and analysis without diluting the emotional resonance of Fatemeh’s frontlines. Together, the voices create a symphony of perspective that alternates between heartbeats and historical commentary, between embodied presence and analytical reflection. The result is a text that feels alive—never passive, never distant—inviting readers into the moral, political, and emotional stakes of the uprising.
Throughout the narrative, symbolism is deftly employed. Acts as simple as cutting hair, lifting a headscarf, or stepping into a street become acts of defiance and reclaiming agency, imbued with both personal and collective meaning. Graffiti, murals, chants, and digital documentation extend the life of these acts beyond immediate physical spaces, transforming ephemeral gestures into enduring symbols of resistance. The repeated invocation of “Jin, Jîyan, Azadî” resonates like a heartbeat throughout the text, reminding readers that the struggle is both bodily and moral, immediate and enduring.
Equally compelling is the treatment of grief and memory. The book does not shy away from the human toll of resistance: the deaths of young women like Mahsa Jîna Amini, the arrested intellectuals, the families torn apart, the persistent fear and emotional exhaustion. Yet grief is portrayed as a form of moral and political fuel. Funerals, vigils, murals, and memorials are acts of solidarity, assertion, and historical preservation. Mourning is not passive; it becomes a dynamic, generative force, sustaining courage and amplifying the movement’s ethical and emotional weight. In this, the book is as much about documenting courage as it is about preserving dignity and memory in the face of systematic erasure.
The final sections of the book, particularly Part III—AZADÎ / AZADI, FREEDOM—shift toward hope, aspiration, and vision for the future. Youth, cultural expression, and intergenerational solidarity emerge as central motifs. Figures like Kian and the symbolic rainbow represent not just hope but inclusivity, resilience, and the transformative power of imagination and aspiration. Even amidst exile, distance, and the ongoing threat of repression, the book emphasizes that activism continues through storytelling, reporting, mentorship, and the moral obligation to bear witness. Hope is not naïve; it is deliberate, intentional, and sustained by collective effort and unwavering courage.
For the Sun After Long Nights ultimately succeeds because it is neither merely reportage nor mere memoir; it is a synthesis of lived experience, investigative precision, and ethical reflection. It honors both the personal and the political, the immediate and the enduring, the local and the global. The book captures the full humanity of its subjects—their courage, sorrow, fear, resilience, and moral commitment—without flattening them into archetypes. It asks readers to not only witness but to feel, to recognize both the beauty and cost of resistance, and to understand that activism is inseparable from ethics, memory, and hope.
This is a book that lingers. It lingers in the mind and the body, echoing in the reader’s imagination as if one were walking alongside Fatemeh through Tehran’s streets, hearing the chants, smelling the dust, feeling the tension, and yet witnessing the unwavering courage of women who refuse to be silenced. It is a book that challenges assumptions, broadens understanding, and elevates moral awareness. It is meticulous in research, expansive in scope, and profoundly human in storytelling.
Rating: 91/100
In sum, For the Sun After Long Nights is an extraordinary work of journalism, memoir, and moral witness. It is at once intimate and expansive, urgent and reflective, heartbreaking and inspiring. It is a testament to the courage of women in Iran, the power of solidarity, and the enduring hope that even in darkness, light persists. This book does not merely recount history; it insists that readers inhabit it, understand it, and carry its lessons forward. It is a profound chronicle of resistance, grief, hope, and the unwavering pursuit of freedom.
Read
August 27, 2025For the Sun After Long Nights is a poignant and deeply personal collection that intricately weaves together the individual experiences and broader political landscapes through the unique perspectives of Fatemeh Jamalpour and Nilo Tabrizy. The entries offer an intimate glimpse into the authors' thoughts, reflections, and observations, creating a powerful dialogue between their inner worlds and the external realities they navigate. This collaborative work transcends mere storytelling, evolving into a significant commentary on resilience, hope, and the enduring human spirit in the face of prolonged challenges.
For those who may be unfamiliar with the pivotal 2022 women-led protests in Iran, the narratives contained within this book will undoubtedly strike them as a fictitious novel. These are not just imagined tales; they are the stark realities experienced by the authors, deeply personal and often unacknowledged in the broader discourse of American media. The book delves into the very fabric of these untold stories, shedding light on the courage and resilience of women who rose up against oppressive regimes, demanding fundamental human rights and freedoms.
Readers are encouraged to approach the book with an open mind, particularly those who are new to the intricate and multifaceted history of Iran. The narrative offers captivating glimpses into various periods of Iranian history, presenting them not as isolated events but as interconnected threads in a grand tapestry. It is crucial for the reader to actively synthesize these historical snapshots, integrating them within a broader, more holistic worldview. This approach will allow for a deeper understanding that transcends a narrow, often myopic, Western-centric perspective.
Approaching this book, I initially felt intimidated by the unfamiliar aspects of Iran and its language so reading it felt like a feat. However, as a poet, I found solace and encouragement in the embedded poetry, with its vivid imagery and romantic narrative, which truly empowered me to engage with the entire text. The poems were truly the highlight of the book for me. Lastly, my only bit of advice I wish the book had was the visuals (i.e. maps, photographs, and an infographic timeline).
For those who may be unfamiliar with the pivotal 2022 women-led protests in Iran, the narratives contained within this book will undoubtedly strike them as a fictitious novel. These are not just imagined tales; they are the stark realities experienced by the authors, deeply personal and often unacknowledged in the broader discourse of American media. The book delves into the very fabric of these untold stories, shedding light on the courage and resilience of women who rose up against oppressive regimes, demanding fundamental human rights and freedoms.
Readers are encouraged to approach the book with an open mind, particularly those who are new to the intricate and multifaceted history of Iran. The narrative offers captivating glimpses into various periods of Iranian history, presenting them not as isolated events but as interconnected threads in a grand tapestry. It is crucial for the reader to actively synthesize these historical snapshots, integrating them within a broader, more holistic worldview. This approach will allow for a deeper understanding that transcends a narrow, often myopic, Western-centric perspective.
Approaching this book, I initially felt intimidated by the unfamiliar aspects of Iran and its language so reading it felt like a feat. However, as a poet, I found solace and encouragement in the embedded poetry, with its vivid imagery and romantic narrative, which truly empowered me to engage with the entire text. The poems were truly the highlight of the book for me. Lastly, my only bit of advice I wish the book had was the visuals (i.e. maps, photographs, and an infographic timeline).
December 26, 2025
My copy of this book has been annotated by both ink and tears.
Having one author be born, raised, and currently residing in Iran while the other was born in Iran but moved to Canada at an early age, and the choice to have chapters alternating between them, was what really made this book stand out in my opinion. The Iranian diaspora is incredibly rich and widespread and while many of us weren't born in Iran, our roots remain proud and strong. The alternating perspectives helped strengthen the bonds and connections the diaspora has to those who reside in Iran currently.
I found myself relating heavily to the internal turmoil felt as a diaspora member, watching these events play out in your ancesteral land, wanting to do something but feeling like you are too far away to do so. Reading stories of protests and protestors from the prespective of those on the ground was equally invigorating and heart breaking. The bravery of Iranian women and the men who support them was nothing short of inspiring. No effort or sacrifice deemed too heavy in pursuit of women, life, and freedom. The tragedies they have faced at the hands of this regime shattered my heart to read, yet they would face it head on and double down on their fight. A part of me wishes to be there, fighting along side my sistes and brothers for our home and culture; yet another part feels grateful, if not a bit guilty, that I am a part of the disaspora and living a better life than the one I would've if my parents hadn't immigrated here. A feeling all to common among the diaspora.
One particular part that hit me hard was when one of the authors describes how they began tearing up when traveling with some friends. One of their firends, who was from that country, was showing them around, helping them communicate with locals, and introduce them to the culture. The Persian culture is so deep and rich but due to the regime which has held our country hostage, the author and many others like myself, may never get to indulge such a joyous experience.
The bravery of the Iranian women throughout history will never be anything short of inspiring and beyond admirable.
Having one author be born, raised, and currently residing in Iran while the other was born in Iran but moved to Canada at an early age, and the choice to have chapters alternating between them, was what really made this book stand out in my opinion. The Iranian diaspora is incredibly rich and widespread and while many of us weren't born in Iran, our roots remain proud and strong. The alternating perspectives helped strengthen the bonds and connections the diaspora has to those who reside in Iran currently.
I found myself relating heavily to the internal turmoil felt as a diaspora member, watching these events play out in your ancesteral land, wanting to do something but feeling like you are too far away to do so. Reading stories of protests and protestors from the prespective of those on the ground was equally invigorating and heart breaking. The bravery of Iranian women and the men who support them was nothing short of inspiring. No effort or sacrifice deemed too heavy in pursuit of women, life, and freedom. The tragedies they have faced at the hands of this regime shattered my heart to read, yet they would face it head on and double down on their fight. A part of me wishes to be there, fighting along side my sistes and brothers for our home and culture; yet another part feels grateful, if not a bit guilty, that I am a part of the disaspora and living a better life than the one I would've if my parents hadn't immigrated here. A feeling all to common among the diaspora.
One particular part that hit me hard was when one of the authors describes how they began tearing up when traveling with some friends. One of their firends, who was from that country, was showing them around, helping them communicate with locals, and introduce them to the culture. The Persian culture is so deep and rich but due to the regime which has held our country hostage, the author and many others like myself, may never get to indulge such a joyous experience.
The bravery of the Iranian women throughout history will never be anything short of inspiring and beyond admirable.
December 16, 2025
the mixture of unflinching pain and risk with both poetic words and depth of information was great.
“It’s my life’s mission to freeze moments in time before they become history, before they become forgotten and dusted with lessons that society should have heeded.”
“We didn’t need a forced coverage to keep ourselves warm. Our energy and resistance provide all the warmth we needed.”
“For those of us watching this unfold from far away, the possibility that the Islamic Republic might fall carried with it the possibility of return. Maybe we could all soon safely visit home. Anyone who wasn’t posting about the uprising or publicly showing solidarity with our sisters and brothers in Iran was seen as holding us back from a collective freedom. A friend posted about this online saying that the way we were surveilling each other was reminiscent of the Islamic Republic. ‘It’s like the ghost of Khomeini is haunting all of us’ he wrote. This internalized authoritarianism is woven into our collective experience.”
“I took the thread that she handed to me, matched it up to the historical fabric and stitched it together to form an understanding of our family. I can’t help but feel Aziz’s presence in this. The act of sewing, of stitching something to completion from scraps of what was left behind.”
“So I can’t imagine religion and the idea that you would go to the heaven after this provided relief. Their generation lost their real lives for an imaginary war.”
“But inside I was suffering from being a stranger.”
“I thought I could blend in in Tehran. That summer I learned I’d forever be a stranger no matter where I was.”
“Our anger was not only about the hijab. It was about the daily humiliation we endured in the name of hijab.”
“But instead the regime passed the measure in the middle of the night, perhaps hoping that our outrage would be quelled if they oppressed us while we were asleep.”
“I didn’t want to dip my bread in people’s blood before eating it.”
“The fabric that hides their hair is dripping with the blood of Jina and Nika.”
“It’s my life’s mission to freeze moments in time before they become history, before they become forgotten and dusted with lessons that society should have heeded.”
“We didn’t need a forced coverage to keep ourselves warm. Our energy and resistance provide all the warmth we needed.”
“For those of us watching this unfold from far away, the possibility that the Islamic Republic might fall carried with it the possibility of return. Maybe we could all soon safely visit home. Anyone who wasn’t posting about the uprising or publicly showing solidarity with our sisters and brothers in Iran was seen as holding us back from a collective freedom. A friend posted about this online saying that the way we were surveilling each other was reminiscent of the Islamic Republic. ‘It’s like the ghost of Khomeini is haunting all of us’ he wrote. This internalized authoritarianism is woven into our collective experience.”
“I took the thread that she handed to me, matched it up to the historical fabric and stitched it together to form an understanding of our family. I can’t help but feel Aziz’s presence in this. The act of sewing, of stitching something to completion from scraps of what was left behind.”
“So I can’t imagine religion and the idea that you would go to the heaven after this provided relief. Their generation lost their real lives for an imaginary war.”
“But inside I was suffering from being a stranger.”
“I thought I could blend in in Tehran. That summer I learned I’d forever be a stranger no matter where I was.”
“Our anger was not only about the hijab. It was about the daily humiliation we endured in the name of hijab.”
“But instead the regime passed the measure in the middle of the night, perhaps hoping that our outrage would be quelled if they oppressed us while we were asleep.”
“I didn’t want to dip my bread in people’s blood before eating it.”
“The fabric that hides their hair is dripping with the blood of Jina and Nika.”
October 25, 2025
The book is not only informative but also emotionally powerful. It is not only about the Mahsa Amini protests but also Iranian feminism, modern journalism, and Iran’s ethnic minorities.
I liked the structure of the book. The chapters went back and forth between the perspectives of Nilo Tabrizy and Fatemeh Jamalpour. My favorite chapter was from Nilo writing as a modern journalist about the delicate process of verifying protest videos from Iran. It goes to show how much journalism has evolved. I was also surprised about Fatemeh, in one of her chapters, writing about how she was interrogated by a woman while in an Iranian prison. I always believed that there were only male interrogators in Iran, considering how patriarchal the regime is. Fatemeh also exemplified a great sense of humor. Her comedic writing really elevated the book, which, because of the subject matter, can be very upsetting sometimes.
Both Nilo and Fatemeh are great journalists. Their book was well researched. They highlighted the diversity of the Iranian people. I appreciated how they mentioned that not everything was perfect back during the monarchy in Iran. That seems to be a myth that a lot of people still perpetuate and believe.
I loved the book. I highly recommend it. I would only add that for a book that was so personal and human, it was an error not to include any photographs. The book spoke about so many individuals who were killed by the Iranian regime, yet readers can never put a face on any of them. When I read Patrick Radden Keefe’s book about The Troubles, he utilized photographs that gave faces to the people he wrote about.
I liked the structure of the book. The chapters went back and forth between the perspectives of Nilo Tabrizy and Fatemeh Jamalpour. My favorite chapter was from Nilo writing as a modern journalist about the delicate process of verifying protest videos from Iran. It goes to show how much journalism has evolved. I was also surprised about Fatemeh, in one of her chapters, writing about how she was interrogated by a woman while in an Iranian prison. I always believed that there were only male interrogators in Iran, considering how patriarchal the regime is. Fatemeh also exemplified a great sense of humor. Her comedic writing really elevated the book, which, because of the subject matter, can be very upsetting sometimes.
Both Nilo and Fatemeh are great journalists. Their book was well researched. They highlighted the diversity of the Iranian people. I appreciated how they mentioned that not everything was perfect back during the monarchy in Iran. That seems to be a myth that a lot of people still perpetuate and believe.
I loved the book. I highly recommend it. I would only add that for a book that was so personal and human, it was an error not to include any photographs. The book spoke about so many individuals who were killed by the Iranian regime, yet readers can never put a face on any of them. When I read Patrick Radden Keefe’s book about The Troubles, he utilized photographs that gave faces to the people he wrote about.
October 21, 2025
As I recall the news of a young woman brutally killed by police for allegedly not wearing her hijab correctly, my heart still races with anger and sadness. I remember the protests that followed, but my naivety at the time didn't allow me to consider the potential consequences for those brave protesters.
After reading this book, I realized how little I knew. I learned several new facts, including some from Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi and Marjan Kamali's fiction novels. However, this book focuses on the current situation in Iran, the draconian laws, and the struggles of women and men protesters in the Woman, Life, Freedom movement.
Being a journalist in Iran means facing threats, imprisonment, and isolation in dark cells, eerily reminiscent of The Handmaid's Tale, which is quoted in the book.
Nilo shares her personal journey of growing up outside of Iran, where she still struggles with the Persian language due to her family's Azeri mother tongue.
Fatemeh's bravery and skill in hiding information are truly impressive, especially given the risks she faced. She had to leave the country for this book to be published, and her sisterhood with Nilo is a testament to their strength despite the distance.
This book has truly left an impression on me. With so many quotes standing out, I've decided to stop here and let you discover it by yourself. If you're interested, I highly encourage you to read it. The book was longlisted for the National Book Award in Non-fiction.
Thank you, Pantheon, for the gifted copy.
After reading this book, I realized how little I knew. I learned several new facts, including some from Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi and Marjan Kamali's fiction novels. However, this book focuses on the current situation in Iran, the draconian laws, and the struggles of women and men protesters in the Woman, Life, Freedom movement.
Being a journalist in Iran means facing threats, imprisonment, and isolation in dark cells, eerily reminiscent of The Handmaid's Tale, which is quoted in the book.
Nilo shares her personal journey of growing up outside of Iran, where she still struggles with the Persian language due to her family's Azeri mother tongue.
Fatemeh's bravery and skill in hiding information are truly impressive, especially given the risks she faced. She had to leave the country for this book to be published, and her sisterhood with Nilo is a testament to their strength despite the distance.
This book has truly left an impression on me. With so many quotes standing out, I've decided to stop here and let you discover it by yourself. If you're interested, I highly encourage you to read it. The book was longlisted for the National Book Award in Non-fiction.
Thank you, Pantheon, for the gifted copy.
February 5, 2026
I just finished For the Sun After Long Nights and I’m numb. This book reads like The Gulag Archipelago, but documenting a totalitarian state specifically targeting its women. Nilo Tabrizy and Fatemeh Jamalpour have created something almost unbearable in its honesty about the Islamic Republic of Iran.
What haunts me most is the calculated cruelty: the regime kills people, then targets mourners at their funerals. It’s not enough to eliminate dissent—they must crush grief itself. This is repression as a science, surveillance as a weapon of control. Every aspect of women’s lives is monitored, regulated, punished.
The book shows how this isn’t just about religious law—it’s about power. Women are imprisoned, tortured, killed for the smallest acts of resistance. The authors capture both the macro-level horror of state violence and the intimate devastation: families destroyed, lives erased for daring to resist.
Yet alongside this documentation of evil, the book reveals extraordinary courage. Iranian women continue fighting despite knowing exactly what this vile regime is capable of. They refuse to be erased.
Reading this feels necessary and awful in equal measure. It’s a testament to those who’ve suffered and continue to fight. The Islamic Republic’s systematic violence against women deserves to be understood in the same way we understand other totalitarian horrors; as a deliberate architecture of oppression that must be witnessed, named, and opposed.
This book will stay with me for a long time.
August 19, 2025
💭 ⓂⓎ ⓉⒽⓄⓊⒼⒽⓉⓈ
This book has completely shaken me to my core, and I don’t say that lightly. Being fully Iranian, I knew I needed to read it, but I didn’t realize how much I would learn or how deeply I would relate, even though I was born and raised in the US. This is a book for everyone, regardless of sex, gender, religion, or ethnicity, because every reader will take something meaningful from it. It is equal parts vulnerable and informative. The stories and history within will fill you with anger, sadness, and most importantly empathy. These are the stories of the people of Iran, people whose incredible qualities often go unseen because of the way media spins narratives or because of the extreme dangers of reporting the truth. I hope that one day soon we will see a different version of Iran than the one portrayed here. This book resonated so deeply with me, and I believe it is an important and timely read that I truly hope you consider picking up.
📚 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎:
👊🏼Female Solidarity
💪🏽Fight against oppression
🥹Vulnerability
😢Emotional reads
🙏Hope and resistance
💔Sacrifice for justice
💭Reflection reads
🗣️Dual POV
✂️𝕄𝕐 ℝ𝔸𝕋𝕀ℕ𝔾✂️
🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟
💕Q U O T E: “𝒜 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑜𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝒻𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓈 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝓋𝑜𝓁𝓊𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝒶 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝑒𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒻𝒶𝒾𝓁. 𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝑒𝒹𝑜𝓂 𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒾𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝑒𝒹𝑜𝓂 𝒾𝓉𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻.”
🙏Thank you NetGalley, Pantheon , Nilo Tabrizy, and Fatemeh Jamalpour for this ARC in exchange for my honest thoughts.💕
September 30, 2025
The part about Nilo being in exile when her grandmother died absolutely destroyed me. That specific cost of documenting this uprising, missing those final moments, being cut off from family during grief, made the sacrifice of this journalism so painfully real.
Fatemeh and Nilo created something urgent and necessary here. Fatemeh risking her life on Tehran's streets while Nilo reported from a distance, both knowing the price they were paying. Their account of the 2022 protests after Mahsa Jina Amini's death shows not just the bravery of the women and men who took to the streets, but the personal toll of bearing witness.
The sections about diaspora and exile, about what it means to be separated from your homeland while it's burning, was difficult to read but so important. Made me think about the different ways people sacrifice for movements, and how courage shows up in forms we don't always recognize.
Fatemeh and Nilo created something urgent and necessary here. Fatemeh risking her life on Tehran's streets while Nilo reported from a distance, both knowing the price they were paying. Their account of the 2022 protests after Mahsa Jina Amini's death shows not just the bravery of the women and men who took to the streets, but the personal toll of bearing witness.
The sections about diaspora and exile, about what it means to be separated from your homeland while it's burning, was difficult to read but so important. Made me think about the different ways people sacrifice for movements, and how courage shows up in forms we don't always recognize.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
November 9, 2025
Can a book get any better? Woman. Life. Freedom.
As an American it is in our DNA to stand up for justice and freedom. I loved the courage of the writers that sacrificed so much to tell these stories of standing up to oppression and cruelty of a regime that asserts so much control of the lives of their citizens, especially woman.
I appreciated the details of the levels of oppression and how the woman fought back on so many levels. Everyone needs to read this book. We all want better lives why are their people in power that suppress and oppress? We are experiencing similar oppression in America by our own government and that was partially my inspiration to read how others are fighting back.
To the authors: Thanks for having the courage to write this book and telling these stories of so many people that are standing up for positivity.
As an American it is in our DNA to stand up for justice and freedom. I loved the courage of the writers that sacrificed so much to tell these stories of standing up to oppression and cruelty of a regime that asserts so much control of the lives of their citizens, especially woman.
I appreciated the details of the levels of oppression and how the woman fought back on so many levels. Everyone needs to read this book. We all want better lives why are their people in power that suppress and oppress? We are experiencing similar oppression in America by our own government and that was partially my inspiration to read how others are fighting back.
To the authors: Thanks for having the courage to write this book and telling these stories of so many people that are standing up for positivity.
December 24, 2025
For the Sun After Long Nights is an extraordinary work of narrative nonfiction. It’s a deeply human, powerfully reported, and beautifully written chronicle of Iran’s 2022 Woman, Life, Freedom uprising. Through the interwoven voices of two brilliant journalists, Fatemeh Jamalpour and Nilo Tabrizy, this book brings to life the courage, resilience, and unbreakable spirit of the Iranian people, especially the women who stood on the frontlines of this historic movement.
What makes this book exceptional is its dual perspective: Jamalpour’s raw, firsthand accounts from Tehran’s streets are gripping and visceral, while Tabrizy’s insight from abroad adds thoughtful context and clarity. Together, their voices create a narrative that is both emotionally resonant and intellectually illuminating.
As an Iranian woman myself reading this had a personal impact I can’t describe. It also taught me so much about the history of Iranian women before the Woman, Life, Freedom movement that I new bits and pieces of but didn’t know to extent in which is described in this book.
This is not just a book about protests; it’s a testament to the power of storytelling, solidarity, and the unyielding pursuit of justice. It honors the brave individuals who risk everything for freedom and offers readers an invaluable window into a struggle too often misunderstood or overlooked. For the Sun After Long Nights is an essential, eye-opening, unforgettable, and profoundly moving read.
What makes this book exceptional is its dual perspective: Jamalpour’s raw, firsthand accounts from Tehran’s streets are gripping and visceral, while Tabrizy’s insight from abroad adds thoughtful context and clarity. Together, their voices create a narrative that is both emotionally resonant and intellectually illuminating.
As an Iranian woman myself reading this had a personal impact I can’t describe. It also taught me so much about the history of Iranian women before the Woman, Life, Freedom movement that I new bits and pieces of but didn’t know to extent in which is described in this book.
This is not just a book about protests; it’s a testament to the power of storytelling, solidarity, and the unyielding pursuit of justice. It honors the brave individuals who risk everything for freedom and offers readers an invaluable window into a struggle too often misunderstood or overlooked. For the Sun After Long Nights is an essential, eye-opening, unforgettable, and profoundly moving read.
February 9, 2026
I think this is a fascinating historical document of the uprising in Iran. It doesn't really work as a cohesive book -- there's a lot of jumping around and a lot of repetition and because of that it was often difficult to follow. And a lot of the background here will already be familiar to you if you've read Persepolis: The Story of a Childhood or Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books. But as a primary source for the story of what's been happening in Iran it's very valuable.
October 16, 2025
iranian people are people who are kept locked up in their own country by outside invaders, and the only way those like me that are privileged enough to not deal with it should be required to read such books. to know the heinous and vile acts that the abhorrent islamic regime enacts against innocent people from their own country is heartbreaking and all of those victims shouldn't have their stories and sufferings end unheard. i feel such a responsibility to my people to be educated and aware about what's happening in the country. the best part of this book was how the authors had control over it as they are women who have personally dealt with these issues, therefore making the book not only more credible, but also more personable to readers like me.
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