Book Review: The Septembers of Shiraz

Dalia Sofer. The Septembers of Shiraz. New York: Ecco, 2007. 340 pages.

The Septembers of Shiraz is a powerful novel that shows not only the brutality of an oppressive regime, but personal toll that government exacts, even on those who aren’t imprisoned.

The novel begins with the arrest of Issac Amin, a Tehran gem dealer, on September 20, 1981. He doesn’t know, at first, what he’s accused of. Through Issac’s eyes, we see life in an Iranian prison as a nightmare out of Kafka and Orwell. What makes the book so powerful is that though this is fiction, the author is writing about real experiences: her father was imprisoned as a suspected Zionist spy, and she based much of the book on his memories and those of other prisoners fortunate enough to survive their ordeal.

Septembers is more than a prisoner’s, tale, however. Issac’s family remains out of jail, and we see how his imprisonment throws their lives into turmoil, as well. It isn’t just his unjust arrest or absence; it’s the sheer arbitrariness and unpredictability of it all; he may be released in a day, held for ten years, or executed. Neither Issac nor his family know what will happen to him. His wife Farnaz sees hardship replace her former prosperity, and his daughter Shirin can’t fully comprehend what’s going on around her, though she tries her best to help.

Issac’s son Parviz, studying architecture in New York City, is another thoughtful character study. Spared the privation and terror of his homeland, he nevertheless suffers: he is lonely, misses his family and his former life, and is also guilty that he should be sad while others endure far worse.

Sofer’s greatest strength is that she can bring depth to everyone in her story. Even the prison guards have developed personalities. It’s fitting for a regime where the prisoners of yesterday are today’s jailers.

Sofer has written a wonderful novel that not only shows the humans trapped by an inhuman regime, but also the complexities of a family, and even an improbable love story. She’s used her own life and her family history as the basis for a book that opens a window on life in the early days of post-revolutionary Iran. Her handling of Parviz in America, though, shows that she’s not confined to her birthplace, and that she can capture the nuances of a different sort of exile and home ust as well. I look forward to reading more from her.

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