I generally liked the book. It was recommended to me by a friend of mine along with several others about Iran. I selected this one as it seemed most appropriate for this forum (in content, readability, length---yes this is a swipe at you, Karl). I didn't find it particularly well written, but that almost made it more endearing as it seemed more likely to actually have been written by the Zarah we get to know in the text.
My scattered thoughts:
1. Zarah as paper hero
I enjoyed the honesty with which Zarah confronts her own inability to live up to the hero she'd hoped she was or would be. As she is first brought to prison she romanticizes the strength with which she will maintain her composure, her clear head, her ideals and loyalties. She quickly learns how shallow her resolve truly was, and returns to this idea throughout the book. I of course couldn't help wonder how I would fare in such a situation, and how quickly I would forsake those same things. Her experience is far beyond anything I have endured of course and I do not wish to trivialize it. Yet even she "was not yet as Job". I am left feeling less secure in my own "core" beliefs and values and also more in awe of those who have endured much and yet remained true. And of course grateful that I have not yet had to find out the true strength of my convictions.
2. Impact of suffering
This is in part a follow-on to #1. Zarah writes about suffering:
"It's OK if you already have character and wisdom and courage, but if you don't, suffering won't build such things in your heart and soul. It will consume what little courage you have, and then you are left with nothing."
It was interesting how quickly Zarah turned from dreams of escape and freedom to dreams of revenge and violence. I don't think this is just suffering---she was subjected to massive mental stress designed to "break her"---but suffering is certainly part of it. But the point of course is that suffering need not be ennobling. It is merely a "refiner's fire" that brings true substance to the surface. Is it an accident that when Zarah was alone she had nowhere to turn but her pain and her deranged friend in the cell above? Zarah throughout the book espouses a view of the world that is basically "humanist"---no God, just "be nice to everyone". Had she a relationship with God would it have helped sustain her in her trials?
3. Am I my (Iranian) brother's keeper?
The most difficult part of the book for me was to envision these events occuring today while I lounged about my comfortable house reading. Obviously there is suffering in the world, but there is something particularly troubling about suffering directly caused by men to other men. Some suffering "will always be with us"---that is the nature of this life. But this suffering need not be.
At one point in the book Zarah loses her blindfold while out in the hall and gets a brief glimpse at the size of the prison. She describes it as a "city within a city"---hundreds of doors leading to hundreds of cells populated by hundreds of people like Zarah. What obligation do I have to those people? Obviously there is a political dimension here: Bush saying that "freedom is God's gift to mankind" came to mind as I read. Do we as citizens have an obligation to direct our government to fight against the injustices perpetrated within other countries? As one who strives to generally separate my own morality from public policy this is not an easy question.
But the political dimension was secondary. Most primary I was left with a sense of alternating guilt/selfishness and helplessness. I wonder how naive I must be that I find this book troubling when I know its content to be representative of what occurs in so many parts of the world. Will I not one day have to answer when asked what I did for those like Zarah?
Looking forward to your thoughts.
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