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The heart of the matter

In a publishing world where a majority of manuscripts are printed exclusively for the benefit of marketplace, it is uncommon to find the work of a new author in print simply on its own merit and because it was too good to reject. The Septembers of Shiraz is such a book. Not only is it written from the heart, but also the soft touch in Dalia Sofer’s style is a rare gift to readers who crave good literary work. True as it may be that the title could have been more relevant – as noted by several critics – by the time I realized this I was pulled so deeply into the story that I no longer cared. Ironically, the misleading title works to the book’s advantage because I doubt I would have picked it off the shelf if the title were Septembers at Evin, or any other that might have revealed its plot >>>

Cultural relativism

“Have you met our new neighbors?” Bob asked his wife.
“Not yet. They just moved in a couple of days ago. After they settle in we should go and meet them.” She responded.
“Where are they from?” He asked.
“They look Middle Eastern to me. But their two girls were probably born here. They speak perfect English. They were talking to April the other day. They got along well.” She commented. >>>

Joy vs. suffering

I wish to start this article by first making sure readers fully understand what culture is and can fully distinguish nations, races, tribes, ethnicities, etc….. from cultures. Culture is generally defined as the “Pattern of Human Activity” or as they say here in America the “Way of Life”. It is important to know that several cultures can co-exist within the same country or amongst the same race or ethnical group, even if those cultures are in conflict in many aspects, as long as all follow the same established civil rules>>>

…و

"من شعر نمی‌نویسم: واقعیت‌ها را می‌نویسم". روژه‌ویچ می گفت. روژه‌ویچ آزرده و عاصی. ۱۹۶۹. تقریبن چهل سال گذشته است و این حرف او هنوز طنین سنگینی دارد. در جهان مصنوع ما، جایی که هر چیزی بر صحنه‌‌ای آراسته می‌شود تا "واقعی" جلوه کند، مردم به ناظران بی‌تفاوت و ناتوان واقعیت فروکاسته‌اند. بمباران اطلاعاتی و تسلط تکنولوژی بر بیشترعرصه‌های زندگی اجتماعی (ماشین مَجاز‌سازی) کمتر رمقی برای درگیری رگی و خونی با واقعیت باقی گذاشته است. در این جهان بازگشت به واقعیت شرط اساسی بازگشت به خویشتن و در نهایت کشف دوباره‌ی شعر است. >>>

Premonition

“Would you like another one?” The man sitting at the bar offered the woman next to him.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?” Uma replied in a seductive tone while playing with the empty glass in her hand.
“I enjoy your company. I like to prolong our exciting conversation.” He responded.
“I have every reason to be skeptical of your intentions.” She sneered.
“That’s because you’re cynical. I like that in a woman.” >>>

Saving the Death

Mary secretly moves her air mattress and blanket to the Red Cross tent, where the corpses are laid out in plastic bags. Since there is no running water to give them a proper Islamic wash, someone will come tomorrow to give them ablution by earth before they are buried in a mass grave. She sets her cot by the opening of the tent and lies with her back to the dead; It is better to breathe the freezing air of the desert winter, than the odour of decaying bodies. Two corpses—a young woman and a young man partly wrapped in white cotton sheets—share a plastic bag as if asleep side by side. Mary feels a pang in her breast and gasps.>>>

یک سوزن به خودت بزن یک جوال دوز به مردم

خیلی ازایرانیها میگویند که خارجیها (اروپائی و آمریکائها) نژاد پرست هستند و ما مهمان دوستیم. من تا حالا افغانی ندیدم که از مهمان نوازی ایرانیها تعریف کند! از لحنی که درباره اعراب صحبت میکنیم که نمیگم. قبول اونام به ما میگن عجم ولی این هر دوش نژاد پرستی است. تا حال چند نفر ایرانی دهید ه اید که با یک سیاه پو ست یا عرب ازدواج کرده باشه؟ چاپلوسی به خارجیان پولدار را بجای مهمان نوازی جلوه دادن هنریست که نزد ایرانیان است و بس.>>>

کاشکی...

نامه ای است تلخ و غم انگیز.......نمی توانم خودم را نگاه دارم.... یعنی کسی که این همه عاشق بهار و نوروز بود می بایستی در آن روز به خاک سپرده شود؟ نه ، بر عکِس برادرم من نمی خواهم که هر شب چهارشنبه سوری و هر روز نو روز باشد. اصلا می خواهم بهار را پاره کنم و بریزم دور... و باز فکر میکنم که آیا ثمین این را می خواهد؟ او که آرزویش زنده نگهداشتن چهارشنبه سوری و نوروز است این را از ما می خواهد؟>>>

Integration

This is a view of our building which is a small part of our social housing block. The apartment where my wife Michelle and I live, is situated on the ground floor in the middle, living on our right is Shaikh Ahmed and his wife Rahima from Somalia, their son Mokri and their daughter Shokri. To our left, until 11 o'clock Friday, was A.Gabrielle, indisputably Italian. On top of him, until last Wednesday, was Tara who is (was) a Finish-Hungarian lady. Next to her, above us, is Gallagher the Scott and next to him, right above Shaikh Ahmed’s family lives Morad, his wife Amina and their children, from the former Yugoslavia. Above Morad lives Jens (chairman of the board) with his twin children and on top of Tara lives 55 years old Mo’tamed and between him and Jens, in no. 8, lives Irene a lonely divorced woman>>>

Looking down on others

If I go around saying all Iranians are terrorists, I should not be surprised when Iranians respond by saying all Americans are backward, cultureless, ignorant rednecks. Stereotyping is a vicious cycle that feeds on itself. When the members of any two groups of people start seeing themselves as vastly different from one another it begins to impair their powers of perception, they gradually begin to see the other, through the blurring lens of intolerance, as inferior, and they fail to remember that we were all born with ten fingers and toes and that we all bleed red when we’re cut. Weren’t we all innocent at one point in our lives before we learned how to hate, for hating is surely a learned skill?>>>