Iranian riches, rags, and carpets

Two debut novels set 300 years apart feature the plight of fatherless families in patriarchal Iran

from the July 17, 2007 edition

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Sofer paints a complicated picture of postrevolutionary Iran: The Amins (and especially their relatives) aren't entirely innocent, having shut their eyes to brutality and corruption under the shah, but Sofer recoils from the idea of justice by "collective retribution" voiced by Farnaz's formerly docile housekeeper. While the dialogue can feel overly formal at times, the impression the reader is left with at the end is that of a powerful story honestly told.

"The Blood of Flowers" by Anita Amirrezvani, with its interwoven fairy tales, feminist-ready plotline, and rich cultural detail, is, in many ways, an easier sell. After her father dies, the girl and her mother travel to Isfahan to live with her dad's half-brother, a rug designer favored by the shah. After surveying the riches in her uncle's house, the girl measures true wealth by the courtyard. "It had a pool of water shaded by two poplars. I thought of the single tree in my village, a large cypress. For one family to have its own shade and greenery seemed to me the greatest of luxuries."

While her aunt never misses a chance to treat them like servants, her uncle is kind to the girl and teaches her the finer points of design and color. His kindness, however, doesn't extend to providing her with a dowry. Unable to marry, she is persuaded to become the legal mistress of a wealthy horse trader. Under the contract, called a sigheh, which is renewable, the two are considered married for three months at a time – a nice bit of sophistry that still exists today.

Unhappy with her tenuous existence, the girl makes plans to use her artistic talents to build a real life for herself and her mother. While the writing sometimes takes on an unmistakably purple tint, that's offset by the evocation of life in 17th-century Isfahan.

Amirrezvani includes traditional folk tales that the mother tells her daughter to take their minds off their troubles and engrossing descriptions about the art of rugmaking and those works' centrality to Iranian culture. Her uncle likes to lecture the narrator about integrity of design and the importance of beauty amid cruelty and injustice, but the woman who runs the public baths sums it up best: " 'Often we must live with imperfection,' she said. 'And when people worry about a stain on their floor, what do they do?' 'They throw a carpet over it,' I replied. 'From Shiraz to Tabriz, from Baghdad to Heart, that is what Iranians do.' "

• Yvonne Zipp regularly reviews fiction for the Monitor.

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