Shahriar MandanipourAnmeldelser

This collection is an exploration of life in all its facets, set against the backdrop of contemporary Iran. Mandanipour's prose is generally pretty dark but evocative and introspective, inviting readers to reflect on the characters' struggles and triumphs. Each story challenges preconceptions and stereotypes about Iran and its people while offering nuanced views of how they contend with the peculiarities of their society.

While "Seasons of Purgatory" is undoubtedly a powerful and moving collection, I found its fantastical elements and the nonlinear structure of its narratives to be challenging at times.½

even though it is fiction, this book gives great insight into Iran and the danger of censorship to a free society

Érase una vez en Teherán, un narrador cansado de novelas tristes y con ganas de escribir una historia de amor feliz, llena de caricias y besos, pero Irán hoy es una tierra donde no existe libertad de expresión. Así, para hablar de amor, el escritor elige a Sara y Dara, dos jóvenes estudiantes que se encuentran por primera vez en una biblioteca y viven su relación a través de los libros que intercambian. Marcando ciertas palabras en las páginas de El pequeño príncipe, La insostenible levedad del ser o de algunos de los mejores poemas de la literatura erótica persa, ellos van tejiendo una nueva y extraña intimidad que comparten con el lector. ¿Lograrán Sara y Dara un final feliz para su aventura? ¿Conseguirá nuestro autor burlar la censura?

This is a collection of short stories written by Iranian author Shahriar Mandanipour and translated by Sara Khalili. Although the author had to leave Iran and now lives in California, the stories are set in Iran during and after the Iran-Iraq war, a war Shahriar served in. The stories range in tone from sad to angry and all reference a loss of some sort.

The story that most sticks in my mind is King of the Graveyard, about the parents of a dead man searching for his grave in a waste field, always worried about being seen by those in the cemetery. There's also The Color of Midday Fire, where after a child is killed by a leopard and her father, a veteran of the war, reluctantly goes to hunt it down. There's a melancholy feel to these stories, of broken men and a country in which everyone is suspicious of everyone else.

It was harder for me to get into these stories than ones written by Americans, but that was kind of the point of reading them. I was pulled into a world I have no reference points for, although the language of loss and despair is a universal one.½

I had read another book by Mandanipour before this, a metafictional novel, which was fairly enjoyable although I don’t think it completely worked for me. That one had a light touch, despite dealing with government repression. The stories in this collection all had an atmosphere of claustrophobic despair. The unhappiness didn’t generally bother me, but after the first couple, the stories became increasingly surreal. Some were confusing–a second reading was required–but there were a few that were disjointed and flat, and I didn’t care enough about the characters or plot to do a second read.

The first story, “Shadows of the Cave”, was the only one with some of the lightness of his novel, Censoring an Iranian Love Story. This one is a character study about a man who becomes obsessed with a zoo. “Mummy and Honey” has a fable-like quality and was probably the most straightforward and complete story. The claustrophobic atmosphere is literal here, as the story describes a family stuck at their isolated estate. “Shatter the Stone Tooth” was an effective tale about a conscript stationed at a small village who becomes increasingly obsessive and unhinged, but it was the start of a series of increasingly surreal stories. “Seasons of Purgatory” is about a soldier attempting to desert who is stuck between the two sides, but this one required a second read, although I did like it much more after the second read. “If She Has No Coffin” and “King of the Graveyard” were both too surreal for me. The former is about a young girl dealing with war and death and the latter is about an elderly couple looking for their son’s grave. These, and other stories, refer to the Iran-Iraq war–I think someone with a better grip on the subject might have gotten more from the stories, but in general, I didn’t find the historical elements too intrusive. These two were my least favorite stories, but the collection ended strongly, if, as usual, unhappily. “The Color of Midday Fire” features a character from “Seasons of Purgatory”, Captain Meena, as he tries to recover from his time at the front. Unfortunately, there is more tragedy in his life. “Seven Captains” has a long-ago unhappy affair as its central point, and the reader must decipher what happened and the relationships among the characters, including the narrator. “If You Didn’t Kill the Cuckoo Bird” was another story that I ended up reading twice–it is somewhat deliberately confusing, but a second reading is rewarding. This one also had a literally claustrophobic setting, as it is about the relationship between the narrator and his cellmate. Although the stories were generally depressing and some were too surreal, I’d recommend this one for anyone interested in Iranian literature.½

A haunting set of atmospheric short stories that will stay with you long after reading. This isn’t an easy read and certainly isn’t for everyone. My personal favorite story was the book’s namesake “Seasons of Purgatory,” about the impact of a defecting soldier, wounded and dying while stuck between the opposing militaries.

I’ve read a fair amount of literary fiction, and have very much enjoyed some of it. I’ve read quite a few short stories with mixed results. This book is a collection of nine short stories, set in post-revolutionary Iran. Some of them were approachable, while others were a bit “high-brow” for my taste.

The stories are all of sufficient length to engage the reader and most deal with aspects of life in post-revolutionary Iran which have made the author persona non grata in that country.

I received this book through the LibraryThing Early Reviewer program, free of charge. I would not have likely purchased it otherwise. Its style is not exactly in my wheelhouse, but if you are “well read” and have a penchant for literary fiction, this might be the book for you.

Nine dreamlike or surreal and wistfully poetic stories centered around life and death in Iran mainly in the 1980s after the revolution and during the seemingly meaningless Iran-Iraq War. Each story is imbued with an aura of impending death or doom, fear, guilt, and futility. Mandanipour conveys an exile's melancholic sense of lost causes and lost hopes. He fills each story with vivid imagery of Iran's topography and culture; this is a land and people he loves.

Despite the relentless despair and pessimism, the beautiful descriptive narratives made for an enjoyable reading experience.

Highly recommended.

The stories throughout this collection usually contained a taste of magical realism and they were also usually harrowing. Mandanipour is a skilled writer and creates an atmosphere and setting beautifully. Interactions between characters are amazing, if dark.½

Like many Americans my age, my image of Iran is a hazy product of childhood memories of the 1979 hostage crisis and embassy siege, later concerns about uranium enrichment, and little between.

These stories provide texture to an elusive culture, provided from the viewpoint of an exile. The imagery is arresting, beautiful, and tragic, and pleads for revisiting. Many of the narrators are unreliable. The stories are heavy with pathos, with only the (very) rare glimmer of hope.

Short fiction challenges the author to deliver experience with economy. This collection compares well with Borges and William Trevor, two of my favorites.

An extraordinarily strong collection of stories by an Iranian author. The stories are dark, and sometimes seem to stand at the edge of the fabulous - not usually in the sense of the magically realistic, but more in the sense of a fable. The stories explore the psychology of fear and paranoia and guilt but the individual characters whose psychology is explored come to seem representative of the whole society, rather than aberrant outliers.

Well-written and (so far as I can tell) well-translated. The language is not difficult even when, as is sometimes the case, the tale is being told in a fragmentary fashion or the story slides between time periods.

Very powerful.

Pure poetry wrapped in poetry and then stretched out as narrative; this collection of short fiction transcends reductive categories. Shahriar Mandanipour has told us something here and I want to think about these stories for a good while. They move quickly and elegantly like the animals interspersed throughout this volume of deeply human yet somehow magical tales. I long to be able to read such a book in the original Persian -alas I can comfort myself knowing that this marvelous translation soars. My favorite character, Mr Farvaneh, lives in the first story,"Shadows of the Cave", and is described at one point as "someone who has his eye on faraway places and moved along the fringes of chaos and commotion..." These lovely pieces left me feeling somewhat the same.

I was interested in Shahriar Mandanipour's Seasons of Purgatory: Stories, a copy of which I received from Bellevue Literary Press via the LibraryThing Early Reviewers scheme (thanks), in part because I enjoy encountering new authors who write short fiction for the New Yorker. What I enjoy with stories in translation, in particular, is learning about other cultures, other customs, other ways of life. But I'm not quite sure what sort of window into Iranian life the nine stories in this collection offered to me. The impression I received was one of bleakness, of desperation, of futility. Distinctive imagery, geographical or topographical or social or cultural or otherwise, did not remain with me after finishing these stories. The narrators and other characters frequently seemed confused or disoriented themselves--leading me to believe these translations must have been quite a challenge: How do you capture such discombobulation or contradiction across linguistic boundaries? So perhaps the point is to emphasize continuities and similarities across humanity instead of breaks or differences. Who doesn't have regrets or crises of identity; who doesn't experience longing; who doesn't wish life had gone another way? In short, who doesn't suffer, at small or at large?

(And a quick note for the publishers, in case the matter can be fixed in subsequent printings: the page numbers on the contents page are uniformly off by 2 pages.)

Reading this novel was something like walking into a bank of fictional fog so thick that all I could see of the protagonist was an occasional shoulder.

I liked the idea of this book more than the book itself. Maybe something was lost in translation, but any clever aspect of the structure was made awkward by its self-awareness. I learned quite a bit about Iranian history and culture, though.

Mandanipour is very popular in Iran but this is his first book to be published in the US. A suprisingly funny novel about a famous Iranian writer trying to write a love story with a happy ending. Shades of Pale Fire and any novel where the characters wriggle out from under the grasp of the author.

Zensur, Iran, Schriftsteller, Liebesgeschichte

It's hard to pin down my thought on this book. I recognize I am very unfamiliar with real Iranian literature, so it's difficult to distinguish between cultural characteristics and the author's style.
It is a metanarrative, in which the narrator explains why certain choices are made in the love story (the internal story) and explains a lot of the Iranian culture as it relates to literature. This dialogue is really interesting (even though it gets tedious in the middle, it picks up again) to help a Westerner like myself. It also adds humour to the novel because of the absurdity of some traditions and conventions. As the book progresses, the narrative and internal story crisscross, which is more challenging to wrap my mind around -- the lines between the two stories really blurs. Overall the interaction between the narrator and his story is intriguing from a writer's perspective and that of a storyteller.

I don't actually like Sara; she is coquettish but stubborn and arrogant...? I don't really know how to describe her, but I didn't really empathize with her. I think that's alright, though, because Dara and the narrator are the main characters, and they're more likeable.

The most similar author to which I can liken this book is [a:Thomas King|25892|Thomas King|http://www.goodreads.com/assets/nophoto/nophoto-M-50x66.jpg]. His [b:Green Grass Running Water|46277|Green Grass, Running Water|Thomas King|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1320433170s/46277.jpg|45411] blurs the lines between the metanarrative and narrative and also subtlely and artistically points out absurdities in (native Canadian) culture. Actually, I can see an interesting comparison study being possible between these two stories.

3,5 en fait.
J'ai beaucoup aimé l'idée, les références et la façon d'utiliser l'humour pour parler de la situation dans son pays natal. Toutefois, le procédé m'a paru un peu lourd par moments.

A sharp, witty tour de force. The novel is at least in part a reflection of Iranian culture and society, with its immense gulf between the public and the private and where people are adept at not saying what they really mean and not meaning all that they say. Clever, funny and depressing - all at the same time.

Censoring an Iranian Love Story is just that – as the author tries to tell a love story set in modern-day Iran, he continually has to edit it, crossing out unacceptable bits, changing the plot and mulling over what euphemisms to use. His story follows Sara and Dara (whose names are something like Dick and Jane) as they uneasily meet and get to know each other. They’re opposed by societal strictures forbidding strange men and women from getting together and restricted family lives. The past of both, especially Dara, is one of repression and frustration. The changing fortunes of their friends and family are also related. The author frequently alludes to Persian classics, Western literature and pop culture – he’s clearly writing for a Western audience and often explains various references. In the metafictional, unbolded story, the author thinks about his difficult career, muses on how to write his story and tangles with the censor Mr. Petrovich, named after the detective in Crime and Punishment. The writing flows well, there are a number of humorous and ironic bits and the metafictional concept is interesting but somehow it failed to fully cohere for me. I really enjoy metafictional novels but while individual parts were engrossing, I didn’t have the usual desire to pick it up.½

Una novela excelente. Una oportunidad de oro de aprender un poco más sobre la vida en Irán de manos de uno de sus grandes escritores que compone de manera elegante y original una crítica a la censura con la que es tratada la literatua en su país. Imprescidible.

Here’s a good novel of an Iranian novelist whose careful writing of a love story must pass inspection from the powerful censor at the Ministry of culture and Islamic Guidance. This novel has an original, playful style. The author addresses his characters directly, but sometimes they have a will of their own. The love story-within-a-story doesn’t amount to much, but it’s clear from this novel’s viewpoint that how could it? Every possible scene of the man and woman trying to get to know each other must be carefully scrutinized and watered down. It’s fun to read the actual assorted typeface in this novel, especially to read through the author’s strikethroughs in his story to see how truly beautiful the story could be if given the chance. The (real) author notes state that Mandanipour, now a visiting professor at Harvard, has himself been unable to publish his books in Iran due to censorship. What I found most interesting was the plight of modern Iranians in the oppressive Islamic state. Quite a fascinating read.½

Novels that tackle important subjects often score more highly for worthiness than pleasure, but in this book Mandanipour makes ample use of humour to highlight the absurdity of the constraints under which Iranians have lived since the revolution of 1979. In bold text are the words of a love story involving a young couple in Tehran. Some of the words and sentences are crossed out to indicate sections removed by the author. Meanwhile, in normal weight text there is a running commentary from the author of this story, spelling out the reasons behind his changes, speculating on what he or his characters will do next, or explaining things that might not be understood by readers outside Iran. It was a relief for once to find a novel within a novel appearing in bold font, instead of the old and often annoying practice of using italics to distinguish between one and the other.

Reading this book was both educational and entertaining. I knew very little about Iran before I read it, now I have a much better idea of its contemporary situation, even if only from one viewpoint.

I’m fascinated by Censoring an Iranian Love Story. There’s an inflection, a way in which the narrator structures his sentences, which I love. Mandanipour’s writing style is distinctively Middle Eastern (in contrast to a Western author writing about the Middle East). There’s a poetic formality to his phrasing, yet at the same time a lightness to his overall prose that keeps the novel from becoming too dense. Shahriar Mandanipour describes his country as only a hometown boy does – with understanding, a tinge of sadness and a hefty dose of irony.

The novel’s premise, and the goal of the book’s narrator – Mandanipour’s thinly veiled alter ego – is to write a love story and see it published in Iran.

" …for reasons that like other writers I will probably discover later, I, with all my being, want to write a love story. The love story of a girl who has never seen the man who has been in love with her for a year and whom she loves very much. A story with an ending that is a gateway to light. A story that, although it does not have a happy ending like romantic Hollywood movies, still has an ending that will not make my reader afraid of falling in love. And, of course, a story that cannot be labeled as political. My dilemma is that I want to publish my love story in my homeland… Unlike in many countries around the world, writing and publishing a love story in my beloved Iran are not easy tasks."

To accomplish these tasks he needs to get past the Ministry of Culture and Islamic Guidance, the embodiment of which is the character of Mr. Petrovich. And so a large part of the narrative is taken up by the author examining and second guessing his characters’ actions; deciding what can be said openly and what should be implied. His hope is that though he will need to compromise, it will not be at the expense of artistic integrity. Our narrator believes, naively, that he will be able to reason with the Ministry.

The love story, about an Iranian couple named Dara & Sara, is printed in bold text. It is constantly interrupted by the author’s explanations, protests, insertions of himself into the narrative action and self-censorship. Entire passages are crossed out with black lines (but are still legible for the sake of the reader). Censoring an Iranian Love Story, visually, has a very Tristram Shandy feel to it. And while the love story is poignant: star-crossed lovers separated by government, economics and class; a more complicated metafiction is told over and around it.

One of the things I found unusual about Censoring an Iranian Love Story is the playful way in which Mandanipour deals with what could easily become pretty depressing subject matter. At no point did I doubt the accuracy of his descriptions – I’ve read other books and so I was prepared me for the culture shock of Iran. But this is where irony plays a key role: much like families will tell funny anecdotes about crazy uncles and disastrous vacations, Mandanipour’s narrator describes his homeland with both humor and affection. And while there are obvious fantastical asides, some embroidery of the facts, the novel captures the essence of a country and city that simultaneously inspires and infuriates. Shahriar Mandanipour’s love story is not just about the relationship between his hero and heroine. It is about his love affair with Iran.

Unfortunately, these two love stories seem destined to only end badly. I read that because of this novel Shahriar Mandanipour cannot return to Iran. The obstacles that Dara, Sara and scores of Iranian youth face appear insurmountable. But, despite a gloomy outlook, for two hundred and ninety-five pages the reader is treated to a magical story inhabited by One Thousand and One Nights, flying carpets, a hunchbacked midget, alchemists and ghosts. Again and again Mandanipour’s narrator invites us to “Ask so that I can explain…”

And the explanations are beautiful. There is a delicate intricacy to Censoring an Iranian Love Story which, combined with the tone of the writing and the psychologically complex characters at the novel’s center, will not fail to enchant.

Due out in paperback, from Vintage, on June 1st

For the full review, please visit my blog at Booksexy.wordpress.com½