The Septembers Of Shiraz

“‘Brother,’ says Hossein, ‘you have to learn not to think about time. It means nothing here.’”

Isaac’s watch, a symbol of his former life as a wealthy, busy and organized businessman, has been taken from him. He has just been interrogated for the first time. The guard Hossein warns him that there is no point asking about time in prison. This comment foreshadows the long period that Isaac will spend in prison, unaware of when he will be released.

“Feeling a chill settling in her thighs, she goes back into her quiet house, which suddenly seems unnecessarily vast—the white limestone façade, the lanterns illuminating the garden path, the shimmering blue of the pool, all posing as elaborate gatekeepers to the unraveling inside.”

The night after Isaac is arrested, Farnaz has a terrifying night at home: She imagines a man hanging from a tree in the garden. Her thoughts reflect the chaos that has overtaken Iran, with its past glory and riches overturned in the Revolution. The unraveling also refers to her family life, both before and since Isaac’s arrest.

“But from time to time throughout his life he had thought of her, even though he could no longer see her face. From that night on he had come to see himself differently, as someone to whom exciting things could happen.”

In prison, Isaac remembers a night 40 years ago, when he was 18 and had sex for the first time, with an American bartender in Tehran. The youthful hope and confidence this experience gave him contrasts with the tired, resigned man he has become, closed off to intimacy and passion.

“The world is going on without me, he tells himself.”

Alone in New York, Parviz misses his family, especially his mother, who used to say the same sentence but happily, as she and a young Parviz would curl up in bed after Isaac left for work. Now Parviz is friendless, living in a cockroach-infested flat, mourning the life he left behind.

“It occurs to her then that her father, too, has simply been misplaced, and that he will one day be returned to his rightful place, in his leather armchair in the living room, with his books and cigarettes, sipping the tea that her mother will serve him from her silver teapot, the sapphire ring back on her finger.”

Shirin is worried about things disappearing: her mother’s treasures and her father. Her friend Leila reassures her that she has probably misplaced the items. Shirin is still innocent enough to believe that her father will simply return, and with him the safe, bourgeois family life she has been used to.

“Keyvan stirs his tea absentmindedly. ‘My only crime is being my father’s son,’ he says, looking down.”

Isaac’s brother-in-law expresses his worry about being in danger now that Isaac has been arrested. Keyvan’s wife insists they cannot leave Iran without their worldly goods, position, and reputation. She believes they will not be targeted by the religious authorities as they have done nothing wrong. Keyvan too believes his aristocratic background and connections—being “my father’s son”—absolve him of responsibility for his privilege. The fact that he looks down, though, implies that a sense of guilt or shame is creeping into his attitude.

“One develops a sense for these things. You smell it in your interrogator’s breath. You know he’s had it with you.”

As they listen to a prisoner screaming while being taken away, Mehdi tells Isaac that the man knows his end is near. This chilling image illustrates the brutality and horror of Isaac’s situation. Later, after his foot lashing torture, he will recall Mehdi’s phrase. This reference to smell is also one of the many examples in the book of the power of this particular sense, whether for comfort in the form of memories or as a source of fear and revulsion.

“‘In this prison, Brother Amin,’ Mohsen says, ‘we are used to getting what we want. Your resistance is pointless.’”

During the second interrogation, Mohsen burns Isaac with his cigarette and kicks him to the floor. Mohsen is angry and shouting, but Isaac is still able to calmly declare his innocence, despite worrying about whether his wife and relatives are being tortured too. Mohsen’s use of the word “Brother” seems to imply fellowship, but he is using it in a pejorative, sarcastic way.

“‘Flowers?’ he said. ‘The country has been destroyed and you’re thinking about flowers?’”

Isaac regrets rejecting Farnaz on his last morning at home before his arrest, pushing aside her arm around him in bed. This coldness started after an argument about leaving Iran. Farnaz mentioned that he no longer brought her flowers—a sign of his losing interest in and energy for their marriage. After his answer, she reminded him that she had insisted they leave, but he refused. 

“From the radio comes the cleric’s sermon, ‘O God, destroy infidelity and infidels. O God, destroy your enemies, the Zionists.’”

Waiting with Habibeh to enter the prison and look for Isaac, Farnaz hears the Muslim call to prayer, now inflected with anti-Semitic rhetoric. She rues the ugliness of the beards of the devout men around her and the fact that she only gets into the prison because Habibeh is wearing a chador, covering her hair and shoulders. This scene portrays the radical change in Iranian society since the revolution. Previously, all religions were tolerated, and Jews like the Amins lived freely and comfortably in a multicultural atmosphere.

“Only those who can afford to be dabblers, dabble. Those who have to work, work.”

Farnaz is interrogated about her journalism by a guard in the prison. His comment shows the resentment the working class harbor towards the bourgeoisie—Isaac’s hard work allowed her to write articles about travel and luxury. After defending herself as best she can, she finally asks if Isaac is in the prison, maintaining her calm and strength despite her fear.

“[S]he realizes that she had not loved him as he deserved to be loved.”

The sight of Isaac’s old car, a relic of his youth, invokes this realization in Farnaz. This is one of many moments where one of them regrets the state of their relationship during the year apart. The chance to think about and miss each other brings them to appreciate their marriage and make more of an effort when they are reunited.

“It is also an affirmation of his desire to survive, which he views as both a necessity and a betrayal—of his past, his family, his father.”

This complex sentiment illustrates the conflicting loyalties that Parviz feels and the struggles he goes through in finding a way to live in New York. Making hats for his Hassidic landlord feels like a betrayal of his secular family; working a menial job to support his basic needs feels like a betrayal of his past as a wealthy and privileged child.

“Please make Isaac happy, Farnaz-Jan, because we never did.”

Isaac’s father asks this of Farnaz in the early stages of her relationship with Isaac. The request reveals a great deal about her father-in-law’s character and the family dynamic, giving some indication of how Isaac’s unhappy childhood led him to become a troubled man. 

“How can this rage, multiplied by millions, be contained, confined, reasoned with?”

This is Farnaz’s thought as she watches the guard rummaging through her wardrobe, his eyes burning with anger. The image depicts the revolutionary zeal of the party that has taken over Iran, under the Ayatollah Khomeini. The elite, like Farnaz, live in fear of reprisals for their privileged lifestyles under the Shah. The words “reasoned with” show that this is a revolution driven by faith and ideology, which cannot be argued against with rationality.

“The human body is like that. It needs a constant flow of nourishment, air, and love, to survive. Unlike currency, these things cannot be accumulated. At any given moment, either you have them, or you don’t.”

After several weeks in prison, Isaac reflects on his situation and his priorities. He is starting to realize that his past life of dedication to work, to accumulating money and possessions, has been a mistake, as it led him to neglect his family. He struggles to find meaning in religion, but instead finds it in companionship, compassion, and his family.

“Maybe in life, like in a ghazal, there is no resolution. She finds relief in this idea of throwing her arms in the air.”

Shirin is reading her father’s old poetry book and remembers how he used to recite ghazals, ancient poems most famously composed by Hafez. Isaac explained that ghazals have no end, no resolution. She found this hard to grasp then, but as she tries to negotiate her changing world and its shocks and ambiguities the idea of stories and poems without endings comforts her.

“Why is it that some people were destined to get served on hand and foot, and the best others could hope for was washing toilets?”

Habibeh and Farnaz argue about whether Isaac has committed a crime and whether Morteza has looted his office. Habibeh is at this point still under the spell of her son’s revolutionary ideas. Her resentment causes Farnaz to remind her of how the Amins’ charity saved her and her son. This is a moment where their previously peaceful long-term relationship becomes threatened by the surge of revolutionary radicalism.

“What an illusion, she thinks, the idea of an ordered, ordinary life.”

Meeting Javad in the bazaar for a clandestine meeting to arrange money for Javad’s escape, Farnaz reflects on the chaos that her life has become. The only solid things seem to be Javad’s moral code and the ring he has returned. Her illusion of safety was shattered long before the Revolution, with the breakdown of her relationship with Isaac, hidden behind the walls of their luxury home.

“You looked the other way, and that’s enough to make you an accomplice.”

After almost a year, Mohsen accuses Isaac of being complicit in the oppression of people like himself, tortured under the Shah’s authority. Isaac admits his guilt, and then appeals to Mohsen as a father to let him see his family again—an empathic link that leads to Isaac’s eventual liberation after he pays a hefty bribe.

“A man has a right to want to live.”

Having secured his release by donating all his savings to the Revolution, Isaac wrestles with his conscience, concerned that his money will be used to kill others. However, seeing the city, smelling bread being baked, hearing the sounds of traffic, and imagining Farnaz at home, distract him from his guilt and lead Isaac to this final justification of the deal he made with Mohsen.

“But I am the same man. I am still Isaac Amin. I have not changed.”

After Morteza threatens to denounce Isaac to Khomeini, Isaac stands up for himself defiantly and Morteza runs away. As a boy, Morteza used to look up to Isaac with gratitude and affection. Pondering the change in the boy, and how their relationship symbolizes the societal structure of Iran, Isaac asserts to himself that he, alone, has not changed. This is why he decides finally to leave Iran.

“Does living well imply selfishness? Was he—Isaac Amin—a selfish man?”

In the truck with the other fugitives on the way to Turkey, Isaac and his family are seated in the front as they paid a higher fee to the smugglers. As Isaac feels the other passengers’ eyes on him, he torments himself with these questions, which show that he still hasn’t found mental peace or a clear conscience.