Simin D膩neshvar 鈥� was an Iranian academic, novelist, fiction writer and translator, largely regarded as the first major Iranian woman novelist. Daneshvar had a number of firsts to her credit.
爻賵賵卮賵賳 = Suvashun = A Persian Requiem, Simin Daneshvar
A Persian Requiem is a 1969 Persian novel by Iranian female writer Simin Daneshvar. It is the first novel in Persian written by a female author. Daneshvar uses folklore and myth in Savu拧un. Linguistically, savu拧un is a corruption of Siy芒va拧un, which refers to the traditional mourning for Siy芒va拧, a hero in the 艩芒hn芒me.
The story is about the life of a landowning family in Shiraz faced to the occupation of Iran during World War II. Savu拧un has sold over five hundred thousand copies in Iran.
Savu拧un is "groundbreaking" and highly acclaimed work in contemporary Persian literature, with both literary and popular success within and outside Iran.
The novel has been translated to English and 16 other languages.
When writing about the novel's importance, critic Kaveh Bissari describing an exact translation by Ghanoonparvar in 1990 and the version A Persian Requiem by Roxane Zand in 1991.
爻賵賵卮賵賳 = Suvashun = A Persian Requiem, Simin Daneshvar
Savu拧un (also spelled Savushun鈥�) is a 1969 Persian novel by Iranian female writer Simin Daneshvar. It is the first novel in Persian written by a female author.
The story is about the life of a landowning family in Shiraz, faced to the occupation of Iran, during World War II. Savu拧un has sold over five hundred thousand copies in Iran.
Savu拧un is "groundbreaking" and highly acclaimed work in contemporary Persian literature, with both literary and popular success within and outside Iran. The novel has been translated to English and 16 other languages. When writing about the novel's importance, critic Kaveh Bissari describing an exact translation by Ghanoonparvar in 1990 and the version A Persian Requiem by Roxane Zand in 1991.
Daneshvar uses folklore and myth in Savu拧un. Linguistically, savu拧un is a corruption of Siy芒va拧un, which refers to the traditional mourning for Siy芒va拧, a hero in the 艩芒hn芒me.
Imagine a culture 2500+ years old. Maybe it takes thousands of years to create a Hafez. To collect the memories and the wisdom; to maintain the Savushun and rhythms; to respect the place of ritual, and see the magic that ritual brings to the eyes of children; to value romance in every scent, every breeze, every color, every cool, refreshing drink.
So as I read this I think - maybe - if Hafez had written a novel, as a woman, when Daneshvar was creating this - maybe this is what he would have written.
The title is a tradition, pre-Islamic, that represents hope, despite everything. The Shi鈥檃 tradition鈥檚 passion of Hoseyn, the Prophet鈥檚 (PBUH) grandson, and the tragedy of Karbala, and its transformation into salvation, into idealism, is an example of Savushun.
This is the story of a woman, Zari, living in 鈥渢he city of flowers and nightingales鈥� Shiraz, Iran during WWII, during the British occupation. She married a radical and loving land-owning man and has 3 children. Yusof is radical because he believes (as his very different brother Khan Kaka complains): 鈥�...he quotes you in Arabic, 鈥淭he harvest belongs to the one who cultivates the land, even if the land is usurped.鈥� And so does not want -at any price - to sell his crops to the British army - but to save them for the tenant farmers to eat.
There are so many important threads within this book. One is about how women who become mothers are forced, so often, to sacrifice themselves, to play a role, to stifle their anger. We are gifted with her insight, as well as her honest, loving, yet critical eye.
Another thread is Zari鈥檚 commitment to visiting the mental hospital weekly with fresh fruits and flowers; with newspapers for one patient. Learning, as anyone who has worked with the 鈥渋nsane鈥� learns, how often they see most clearly of all. These anecdotes weave in and out of her story coloring it and shading it flawlessly.
And then there is the British occupation - which had been in place since Zari鈥檚 forever, but was now about to cause massive starvation as everything was being diverted to the Occupier. The wealthy class, by and large, accepted this (and large payments) and we see all the machinations of greed by what Zari calls 鈥渢he Passion Play villains鈥�.
We also learn of Zari鈥檚 rebellion. As a scholarship (poor) student in a Catholic school, taught by an Indian teacher, Zari excelled in English. Once when an English lady benefactress was to visit the school, Zari was chosen to kiss her hand and recite the (don鈥檛-tie-me-up-too-loose) poem 鈥淚f鈥� by Rudyard Kipling. (never breathe a word about your loss...) But when the time came Zari took the lady鈥檚 hand, and rather than give it an obsequious kiss, she shook it. And proudly recited Milton鈥檚 poem 鈥淭he Blindness of Samson鈥� (Blind among enemies, O worse than chains...)
An excellent choice, methinks.
There is a small boy named Kolu that Yusof brings home to be adopted as a son, because his father has died. Unfortunately, Kolu becomes ill and has to be hospitalized where he is heavily proselytized to by a Catholic priest, confusing this poor Shiite child. After recovery Kolu ponders:
鈥淲hat kind of shepherd is he anyway to let his lamb get lost and go sit in the sky? If he is telling the truth, let him come down and take me. If he takes me, I鈥檒l give him my daddy鈥檚 pipe that I hid under the bed rolls. But if he doesn鈥檛, may Abolfazl al-Abbas strike me dead, if I get hold of him I鈥檒l land a rock right between his eyes with my slingshot.鈥� He took three copper crucifixes from a pocket鈥�.
Late in the book, the revered elderly physician who has watched Zari at the mental hospital, visits her after the unthinkable occurs and reassures her that her only disease is potentially malignant, definitely infectious, and sometimes hereditary - Fear. He tells those around her to 鈥渏ust leave her alone鈥�
But he murmurs to her: 鈥淭ry patience, oh heart, for God will not abandon Such a dear gem in the hands of a demon.鈥�
Zari knew the doctor was a member of the Hafeziyun group that held vigils and read poetry by the tomb of Hafez every Thursday night. Yes, they drink wine, too, and even sprinkle libations over his tomb. And they play music, too. 鈥�.
鈥淟et us do something, otherwise we shall be ashamed On the day that our souls depart for the other world.鈥�
The grave of Hafez is always crowded by mourners, laying perfect roses, lovers sneaking kisses in corners, garnering inspiration from this immortal poet. Elderly stand silent, reverent, sometimes weeping as though he'd died yesterday instead of 630 years ago. The idea of a group of medical doctors gathering once a week to vigil, read poetry, play music and drink at Hafez鈥檚 tomb - how much better would we be, if that had been part of our training & practice as physicians in the west?
Iran is unique among places as it has filled the same borders with its sui generis culture and language for millennia. Cyrus the Great was the Persian /Iranian leader of the first empire that included large areas of different cultures and languages. He was the author of the famous Cylinder; the first peace treaty which recognized the rights of the women and children left by the losing warriors.
Iran created Persepolis; it is the home that nourished Rumi and has always valued poets more than kings. A country - for all of its faults (I was not crazy about the headscarf) that is not hypocritical about welcoming the stranger.
I have traveled slowly & widely in at least 60 countries, been both content and confused in my d茅paysement, but i've never been so moved by a country as I have been by Iran. There were times in this book when I had to stop reading because I just needed to cry. Maybe because of all the toxins the USA has attempted to falsely stamp upon Iran, when we were there, the truth: the kindness, the beauty, the sense of continuity with the ancient, the appreciation for the amazing, miraculous, for Allah, perhaps - was overwhelmingly palpable. What was the best was Not for sale. The complex flavors, the smell of a fresh flower floating in rose water, something transient. A poem. Has value. Did I mention valuing things that are Not For Sale? Please join us for tea. All of these are naturally folded into Zari's life.
Learning some about the cruel imperialist history of the UK and the USA in Iran. Shame. Kermit Roosevelt bringing down Mosaddegh. Trump pulling out of a nuclear deal that was working, and placing more sanctions that only hurt the vulnerable. And the lies and manipulations that have created the hard line, but still sane government of today鈥檚 Iran, that the USA and the UK brought to life.
And this brilliant novel is set Just Between. Britain is still Empire-ish, but it is slippery and OMG it is WWII and it is not going well. Iran is in British control and, of course all of its resources should go to feed the British troops! (See Famines鈥� remember Bengal 1943?). But some think...No, this food should feed those who grew it, as Allah has said. A decade later Mosaddegh thought Iranians should own part of Iran's oil. Britain didn't like that either. Savushun.
It is useless, dianne. Almost 3000 years of poetry, love, grand stories beyond metaphor, enough. Buy a rug already!