Rostam #3

Rostam #3

Early sneak peek at next comic book

by bahmani
20-Dec-2007 (4 comments)



Wanting more out of life

A conversation with Massud Alemi, author of "Interruptions"

The novel takes place in revolutionary times, in fact about a couple of years after the Islamic Revolution of 1979. It was the time that major aspects of the society underwent pretty drastic transformations. Attacks on basic freedoms of the people had already started and the mere audacity of the regime to go places that no other dictatorship had gone before (to borrow from Star Trek) had created a funny and ironic situation. People couldn't believe that not only were they not getting the things for which they had fought so hard, but they were losing some of the things that they had pretty much taken for granted for such a long time. That gave people sort of that deer caught in the headlights look. It was the time of major interruptions in the people's lives>>>



Debut novel

Farzin Rouhani would remember the last day of spring 1981 as the first time reality warped. He would recall that Tehran’s air was so hot and immobile a dropped feather fell like a rock. By then he had developed the habit of going over to see Bijan in his apartment halfway across town. Farzin had the route memorized by then. Turn the corner from Vali-e Asr onto Shaheed Beheshti Avenue, and he would be but five blocks away from wicked bliss. Only on June 20, 1981, the baking street indulged more people than usual, and the sun staked sharp streaks of pain into his skull. The heat was treacherous, dry, and scorching. >>>



Excerpt from "Alethophobia"

20-Dec-2007 (2 comments)
Stepping out of the shower and drying, I stare at my nakedness in the steamy mirror and admit with a shy but satisfied smile: Pirooz, you were a dirty old man when you were born, and you will be a naughty boy when you die. I have always been a victim of my passions, not only the passion of my loins, mind you, but also the passion of my mind. From my untimely pre-pubescent erection in the women's bathhouse in my native Tehran, when I was just five years old -- I will tell you about that later --to my current basketful of predicaments here at Ohio Eastern, where I have landed as a Professor of Political Economy. >>>


بالاخره روسپیان مارکز قربانی شدند

وقایع نگاری توقیف یک کتاب

18-Dec-2007 (3 comments)
اخرین کتاب مارکز در سال 2004 با سر و صدای فراوان در نماشگاه کتاب بوگوتا در کلمبیا رونمائی شد هرچند از یکی دو روز قبل از آن میشد نسخه قاچاق آنرا با دو سه هزار پزو ارزان تر در مرکز شهربوگوتا از دست فروش ها خرید. کتابی است حدود صدو چند صفحه که روایت عشق پیرانه سر مردی نود ساله است به جمال معشوقی نو جوان و باکره و اثرات این عشق در زندگی به بیراهه رفته او. نوعی عرفان یادآور شیخ صنعان عطار است البته به زبان مارکز و ذهنیت کارائیبی او و لزومی به تاکید نیست که مارکز\ پورنونویس نیست.>>>


ملاقات پس از کشتار ۶۷

در این‌جا، کوچکترین‌ و ناچیزترین جانی‌شان دست صدتا شمر و خولی و یزید و حرمله را از پشت بسته است.

18-Dec-2007 (10 comments)
آذرماه ۶۷. بالاخره بعد از گذشت هفت ماه، موفق به دیدار خانواده شدم. مادربزرگم، مادرم و پدرم به ملاقات آمده بودند. بیچاره مادرم فکرمی‌کرد که اعدام شده‌ام. بارها مراجعه کرده بود. به او گفته بودند که ملاقات ندارد یا این‌جا نیست تا این که نامه‌ام را دریافت کرده بود. مادرم اشک می‌ریخت. سراغ مرتضی مدنی را گرفت. با چشمانی اشک‌بار پرسید که آیا از او خبری دارم یا نه؟ هنوز پاسخ نداده بودم، گفت: ملاقات ندارد، دل‌مان شور می‌زند. دلم هری ریخت پایین. به خودم دلداری می‌دادم که شاید زنده مانده باشد. با هم بزرگ شده بودیم. بعد از انقلاب دیگر کم‌تر از هم جدا می‌شدیم. روز پنج مهر دستگیر شده بود درحالی که تا چند لحظه‌ قبل از دستگیری در کنارم بود.>>>


War on error

Stories of Muslims in post-9/11 America

12-Dec-2007 (18 comments)
Lounging contentedly on the bed in her apartment some thirty-five stories directly above the FDR, Roxana looks at me standing over her and proclaims, "Interview me," as though she were Julia Roberts promoting her next blockbuster. I know this is going to be difficult. I have known Roxana for over eight years now. We met in college at Wesleyan when she was a senior and I was a freshman, and within days, we were inseparable. She was the only other Iranian girl I had heard of at Wesleyan, and she seemed to know everything and everyone there was to know there. We were both loud,opinionated, sarcastic, and naive.We were also both virgins and agreed that men were useful almost solely for opening unyielding jars of pickles and hooking up electronic equipment>>>


The very last straw

News & excerpt from "Sons and other Flammable Objects"

Another in the long line of misunderstandings in their shared history, what caused Xerxes and Darius Adam to vow never to speak again, really began with a misplaced anecdote, specifically an incident that happened many years before in the summer of Xerxes's twelfth year, known always in the Adam household as "the summer when Darius Adam began terrorizing, the neighbors' cats," known privately to Xerxes's future self as "the summer in which I realized something was very wrong with my father, something that would cause us to never have a normal father-son bond-the summer, years later, accidentally triggering the very last straw that would cause us to never communicate again." Ever? "Well, wishful thinking, for starters.">>>


The Story of the Men of Sialk Hills

From my new e-book "Men from Various Civilizations"

The Sialk Hills civilization had many members. One of these was a man who played the tar and loved his profession very much. This man’s house was located on the western side of the hill. To the right of it was the house of a bearded man. And to the left of his house lived a man who shaved his beard. They were not friends, but they always greeted each other when they met on the street. The tar player had a girlfriend who always reminded him that she was a decent girl. The tar player knew that she was a decent girl, too. That is why he had decided to marry her one of these days>>>


The nature of freedom

A conversation with Manoucher Parvin on his latest novel, "Alethophobia"

27-Nov-2007 (2 comments)

Recently Dr. Parvin sent me a copy of his just-published novel, Alethophobia. Before reading it, I always assumed that the ultimate sanctuary of truth is the world of academia. Apparently this is not always so. The main character in Alethophobia, Professor Pirooz, tells how the fear of truth (alethophobia) affected the lives of a nexus of students, faculty and administrators on the seemingly serene campus of a midwestern university in the 1980’s, and how it threatened to compromise academic freedom as well as his own career. I offered to interview Dr. Parvin about the book, and he agreed. Since we have not yet met in person, this conversation was carried out via phone and email



At least his whores are melancholy

Lucky for Iranians, they’re protected from stories of sad prostitutes and old men by vigilant censors

20-Nov-2007 (10 comments)
At least, his whores are melancholy. Ours are beaten, underpaid, overworked, anguished, and subjected to all forms of torture on a daily basis. Ours passed the melancholy state long ago. I’m referring to a book by the Colombian novelist, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, entitled “Memories of My Melancholy Whores.” It was banned in Iran, after selling out, because the censors discovered that the title was sanitized. The word “whores” was replaced with “sweethearts.” The prostitute in the book is a fourteen year old girl who is the object of a ninety year old mans lust, and then love. Iranians will not be offended by either the title or the 76 year age difference. We know of far worse. We have known far younger whores being the object of madness, for the lack of a better term, not just lust and love.>>>


In search of morning

Memoirs of founder of Iran's largest publishing house before the revolution

20-Nov-2007 (6 comments)
Last spring I read Dar Josteju-ye Sobh (“In Search of Morning”), the memoir of Abdorrahim Ja’fari, founder of Amir Kabir publishing house in Iran. It is an unforgettable book...Driven by equal measures of intellectual curiosity and enterprising spirit Ja’fari built his own version of the great Amir Kabir’s legacy. He educated the public as he educated himself. He saw the potential of the market for new works and ideas and devoted his considerable energy to building and expanding it. He helped create a reading public. By giving decent contracts and royalty to his authors and translators, the former print house worker ended up supporting a class of professional intellectuals. As businessmen go he was a rare breed; he took financial risks on the market for intellectual pursuit. And, lo and behold, Amir Kabir grew and prospered.>>>


شکنجه‌های رایج

شایع‌ترین انواع شکنجه‌هایی را که در دوران بازجو یی در زندان‌های رژیم اعمال می‌شوند

20-Nov-2007 (14 comments)
تمامی رژیم‌های سرکوبگر استفاده‌ی گسترده از شکنجه را به عنوان اصلی‌ترین و کارسازترین ابزار برای دست‌یابی به اطلاعات به منظور دستگیری، سرکوب، فروپاشی و نابودی نیروهای سازمان‌های مترقی و مبارز و مخالف خود می‌شناسند. آن‌چه که رژیم جمهوری اسلامی را از دیگر رژیم‌های سرکوبگر دنیا متمایز می‌کند، تداوم شکنجه، آزار و اذیت و اقدام‌های خودسرانه و غیرانسانی بعد از دوران بازجو یی و در دوران تحمل کیفر و حتا بعد از آزادی از زندان است. دامنه‌ی اقدام‌های سرکوبگرانه تا آن‌جاست که خانواده و کودکان زندانیان را نیز در بر می‌گیرد. در نظام جمهوری اسلامی شکنجه در سه مرحله و به سه منظور انجام می‌گیرد>>>


Lights out

Excerpt from new political novel on U.S.-Iran war

14-Nov-2007 (13 comments)
[Author's Podcast] The President of the United States from the Oval Office, Washington D.C., April 20, 2010: “My fellow citizens, at this moment we are in the midst of an aerial and naval campaign to eliminate once and for all the nuclear threat with which the Iranian regime has defied the international community for years. On my orders, the Armed Forces of the United States of America have begun to strike selected targets that form an integral part of the nuclear weapons program of the Iranian regime or are assigned to protect these facilities..."


Dirty business

Excerpt from "A Path To Nowhere"

09-Nov-2007 (one comment)
I was spending my third night at the front line. I had already received a Klashinkov rifle with a magazine that could hold thirty cartridges and a few blankets to sleep in as Neekvarz had promised. That night it was cold and foggy. A storm was blowing from northwest raising sand and dust; making the air dark. Apprehensive about my sentries, I had visited all of them twice earlier at night either in Karamee‚s company or on my own. All of them were awake and vigilant; everything seemed normal except the storm that was lashing across the plain and the hill.>>>