Life With….

Book Cover for the UK version House of the Mosque

While wandering around a bookstore in Cairo bookstore – a brightly colored book with an intriguing title caught my eye.  After reading the blurbs and summaries I was undecided, and as is often the case in situations like that I turned to the first page – and was immediately hooked.  I can honestly say I loved this book – and that it deserves all the praise it has garnered.  According to one poll conducted in 2007, it was voted the second best Danish book ever  (for more on this – and an interview with the author see here and here) – a fact that is remarkable as it was published in 2005 and is written by a man who is not a native Danish speaker.

The book, entitled The House of the Mosque by Kader Abdolah, a 2010 British translation of the 2005 Dutch novel is not yet released in the United States in August as a paperback (though Amazon claims you can buy a Kindle copy now).  For me, this is a book I want to own the real version of – one to posses and put on the shelf, not simply read and discard as you do on an e-reader.  The cover is perfect, and I hope it is not changed when released stateside as it depicts the house and the family as we first meet them, alive and colorful filled with life.

By way of some minor background –this book is written by a man who escaped Iran after participating in underground political groups after the revolution and whose pen name honors two friends of his who lost their lives as a consequence of the Iranian Revolution.   The book takes place in Iran in the decade leading up to the revolution, and then speeds up and presumably ending after the Iran Iraq war – but no specific date is given for the conclusion.   Even so, the book is both political and not, it is historically accurate and not, it is filled with myth and fable while still being brutally almost cruelly honest when it comes to creating the confusion that comes with change, and it is descriptive and evocative of the characters and place and still eaves many things a mystery, leaving many details up to the imagination.

Like other epic books before it set in times of great historical drama (e.g. War and Peace, Les Miserables, A Tale of Two Cities) this book focuses on one large complicated family.  Unlike them though it does not shy away from playing with language and themes – it is part historical novel, part fact, part fiction, and part fable.  Yet the elements blend together creating an image of characters, though in some cases are not fully developed, that is alive and can live on in the reader’s mind outside the book.

The family is almost like royalty in the town of Senjen (a more rural town then is typically portrayed in books about modern Iran) for they are the historical custodians of the Friday Mosque as well as the most powerful merchant on the Carpet Bazaar.  Given these facts and their successful international clients, the business patriarch controls much of the actions of the Bazaar, and therefore the town.  This is a traditional town – one where the mosque has encouraged people not to have radios or televisions.   The women are cloistered in the home and chador, but respected by the men of the family (though not always the men outside it) and while in many ways their lives are not the focus of the book, you do get glimpses of what it would be like here and there.   The traditional nature of the family, and the patriarch, is reinforced in one of the opening scenes in which the young son of the family requests that the patriarch, Aqa Jaan, and iman buy a television to watch the moon landing because it is their duty to be aware of what is happening in the outside world.  In many ways this is the story of how the outside world forced the family to become aware of the drastic changes in the area outside Senjen – and what changed (everything) and what did not (the house) due to the this intrusion.

Interestingly these changes, from a time of family and hope to one of gradual terror  and then leading finally to a time of stability which is not like the past but has moments that reflect that era and hope for a better future, are reflected not just in plot points.  The author (and translator) has a light touch, vividly describing a family and house, showing a life filled with magic, giving it a imaginative fictive quality that works well for the myth lover in me, and may not work for everyone, and is so reflective of the Persian culture.  The book touches on poetry, 1001 Arabian Nights, the Koran (though verses are often rearranged to suit the needs of the author), and other forms of literary and cultural life in modern and ancient Persia, including Zoroastrian and religions that preceded it.  The pride in the rich history of the area is evident throughout much of the book as well as a love for the beauty of gardens, carpets, and other traditional adornments of Iranian homes and land.  The family is thus enveloped in a world that has a semi-mystical quality to it; the magic of the culture invigorates the family and as importantly the house with richness and speaks to the imaginative qualities of both author and reader.

Each chapter focuses on a different story – and though they all fit together to form a greater narrative told, which is apparently chronological, many of the stories also stand on their own.   Although there is a central patriarch, Aqa Jann, many of the chapters focus on other members of the family, creating a sense of generational shifts, and to a lesser extent shifts in perspectives between genders.   Many of the stories focus on the role of the men of the family, be it as patriarchal, religious, or rebellious.  This family, who has controlled the mosque for the generations preceding the revolution takes their prominence seriously – the men study religion and become the iman of the mosque, or are groomed so as to run the carpets business.  Those who do not do either seek to otherwise secularly reflect the culture – through poetry, writing, or documentary filmmaking.

As time goes on, the Shah becomes more restrictive and the country more outwardly Islamist, the prose becomes tauter, less poetic.   The family, like most Iranians did not like the Shah and hoped that his overthrow would lead to change – some wished for more freedom, others wished for a more Islamist era, but all wished for change.  Yet the when the revolution comes, the family, feels betrayed and lost, the patriarch stumbles and literally cries on the street as guards kill a crippled child, after which he and the family realize the totality of the change in their world.

By the time of the revolution, the family is no longer in true power, and wave of denouncements of neighbors and family members as being against the revolution begin giving rise to torture and killings.  A wife of the family becomes the warden for the women’s prison and refuses to aid family members arrested, another member becomes a leader of the resistance movement, while an imam related to the family becomes, as mentioned before, a close aide-de-camp to Khomeini. This way gives a sense of the divisions that must have split many families and generations during this period.   At this point, the prose becomes so sharp it evokes this sense of loss and confusion.  This is especially true when compared with the looser style used initially.   Yet this terror is necessary – the beauty of the earlier world being disrupted, the family pulled apart, and all seems lost.  The house itself has been protected by the crows who live in the mosque’s minarets, yet as the revolution progress the crows leave and the mosque is removed from the family’s control – they are beaten by others and by members of the extended family until all seems lost except for the patriarch, his wife and the house.

Yet, the book ends on a few hopeful notes.  For example there is an autobiographical letter written by one character to the patriarch reads like what the author himself would like to say.  Other later scenes in the house and in the rural villages and gardens of Iran show the growth and revitalization of some who have survived but  who have not given in to the extreme version of life that the regime dictated.  The image of Aqa Jaan visiting his friend in the rural garden turned where members of the family, living and dead, find redemption and healing offers a strong conclusion, one that allows the past to be mourned, and allows for hope.   These scenes give rise to a sense that all is not lost and that the beauty and cultural may revive.  The author uses, exploits, and explains what he claims to be a Persian tradition of not ending the story – but instead taking leave of it, as the story may be over “but the crow still has not reached its nest”.  Thus the fable continues in our life and imagination – the house goes on, the characters that are alive live, and we are free to imagine them changing and growing as life continues to change over time.

Sometimes books just work – the language, plot, and themes come together and speak to you. For me this is one of those books  – I would hope it is for you too – but that is your call read it and decide that for yourself.

All text and copyrights preserved by the author 02csb For more information visit http://www.peebesalgy.com Courtney Brown

Create Your Badge  All text and copyrights preserved by the author for words and original pictures and may not be used without author's permission. For more information visit http://www.peebesalgy.com Follow me on Twitter @ http://twitter.com/peebesalgy or contact me directly through http://www.peebesalgy.com/blog/contact-me/ Courtney Brown | Create Your Badge