Letters 10-27-2014

Paging Doctor Dan: The doctor’s promise to repeal Obamacare reminds me of the frantic restaurant owner hurrying to install an exhaust fan after the kitchen burns down. He voted 51 times to replace the ACA law; a colossal waste of money and time. It’s here to stay and he has nothing to replace it.

Evolution Is Real Science: Breathtaking inanity. That was the term used by Judge John Jones III in his elegant evisceration of creationist arguments attempting to equate it to evolutionary theory in his landmark Kitzmiller vs. Dover Board of Education decision in 2005.

U.S. No Global Police: Steven Tuttle in the October 13 issue is correct: our military, under the leadership of the President (not the Congress) is charged with protecting the country, its citizens, and its borders. It is not charged with  performing military missions in other places in the world just because they have something we want (oil), or we don’t like their form of government, or we want to force them to live by the UN or our rules.

Graffiti: Art Or Vandalism?: I walk the [Grand Traverse] Commons frequently and sometimes I include the loop up to the cistern just to go and see how the art on the cistern has evolved. Granted there is the occasional gross image or word but generally there is a flurry of color.

NMEAC Snubbed: Northern Michigan Environmental Action Council (NMEAC) is the Grand Traverse region’s oldest grassroots environmental advocacy organization. Preserving the environment through citizen action and education is our mission.

Vote, Everyone: Election Day on November 4 is fast approaching, and now is the time to make a commitment to vote. You may be getting sick of the political ads on TV, but instead, be grateful that you live in a free country with open elections. Take the time to learn about the candidates by contacting your county parties and doing research.

Do Fluoride Research: Hydrofluorosilicic acid, H2SiF6, is a byproduct from the production of fertilizer. This liquid, not environmentally safe, is scrubbed from the chimney of the fertilizer plant, put into containers, and shipped. Now it is a ‘product’ added to the public drinking water.

Meet The Homeless: As someone who volunteers for a Traverse City organization that works with homeless people, I am appalled at what is happening at the meetings regarding the homeless shelter. The people fighting this shelter need to get to know some homeless families. They have the wrong idea about who the homeless are.

Home · Articles · News · Books · Secret Studies -- The Hazards of...
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Secret Studies -- The Hazards of Reading Lolita in Tehran

Nancy Sundstrom - August 19th, 2004
Recently released in paperback is a book that deserved more attention than it earned when it was released in hardcover late last year. The tome has the provocative title of “Reading Lolita in Tehran,” and it has been rightfully hailed by other critics as a powerful and moving merge of memoir, political commentary and literary criticism. Though it is hardly a beach read, the fact that it is now available in paperback might help bring this insightful and provocative book the audience it should have had from the onset.
The author is Azar Nafisi, an intelligent female (two strikes right there) professor who resigned from her job at the university in Tehran in 1995, primarily as a form of protest to the institution’s remarkably repressive policies in regards to just about everything.
Once she became free of the Orwellian environment under which she had worked and attempted to educate her students, she secretly organized a group of seven of her brightest and most open-minded female students to gather with her once a week in her home to study and discuss classic works of western literature that had been banned from even mentioning in her classroom. For the next two years, under a fair amount of appropriate paranoia, they devoured works by the likes of F. Scott Fitzgerald, Henry James, Jane Austen and Vladimir Nabakov, the author of the aforementioned “Lolita” in the title.
In the first chapter, Nafisi immediately engages the reader by describing the tension under which she began her risky literary enterprise:

“In the fall of 1995, after resigning from my last academic post, I decided to indulge myself and fulfill a dream. I chose seven of my best and most committed students and invited them to come to my home every Thursday morning to discuss literature. They were all women -- to teach a mixed class in the privacy of my home was too risky, even if we were discussing harmless works of fiction. One persistent male student, although barred from our class, insisted on his rights. So he, Nima, read the assigned material, and on special days he would come to my house to talk about the books we were reading.
I often teasingly reminded my students of Muriel Spark’s “The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie,” and asked, which one of you will finally betray me? For I am a pessimist by nature and I was sure at least one would turn against me. Nassrin once responded mischievously, you yourself told us that in the final analysis we are our own betrayers, playing Judas to our own Christ.
Manna pointed out that I was no Miss Brodie, and they, well, they were what they were. She reminded me of a warning I was fond of repeating: do not, under any circumstances, belittle a work of fiction by trying to turn it into a carbon copy of real life; what we search for in fiction is not so much reality but the epiphany of truth. Yet I suppose that if I were to go against my own recommendation and choose a work of fiction that would most resonate with our lives in the Islamic Republic of Iran, it would not be “The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie” or even “1984” but perhaps Nabokov’s “Invitation to a Beheading” or better yet, “Lolita.”
A couple of years after we had begun our Thursday-morning seminars, on the last night I was in Tehran, a few friends and students came to say good-bye and to help me pack. When we had deprived the house of all its items, when the objects had vanished and the colors had faded into eight gray suitcases, like errant genies evaporating into their bottles, my students and I stood against the bare white wall of the dining room and took two photographs.
I have the two photographs in front of me now. In the first there are seven women, standing against a white wall. They are, according to the law of the land, dressed in black robes and head scarves, covered except for the oval of their faces and their hands. In the second photograph the same group, in the same position, stands against the same wall. Only they have taken off their coverings. Splashes of color separate one from the next. Each has become distinct through the color and style of her clothes, the color and the length of her hair; not even the two who are still wearing their head scarves look the same.”

Just about any American would take for granted Nafisi’s fervent desire to have this weekly book discussion group, and even more incomprehensible that it should have had some of the more nightmarish elements that it did for her dream to actually come true. Everyone who came to her home to read and debate these forbidden works did so at considerable risk. All were former students, though some were conservative and others more progressive minded, and some were as religious as others were secular. All were “shy and uncomfortable at first, unaccustomed to being asked to speak their minds,” but as soon as they began to open up, the world of ideas introduced to them through the art of literature led to self-discovery, a growing sense of esteem and, most remarkably, the ability to see themselves in the stories they devoured, be they “Pride and Prejudice,” “Daisy Miller” or “Lolita.”
Nafisi’s remarkable story incorporates fascinating details of the early days of her country’s revolution, tracing events from the students protests at the University of Tehran to a time when a radical Islamist in Nafisi’s class questioned her decision to teach “The Great Gatsby,” which led to a strange trial where the character of Gatsby was actually put on the stand. Her perspectives on the Iran-Iraq war give the reader a very rare look into a country and way of life that is still elusive to most of us.
In the end, what the reader takes away from this luminous book is that art (and in this case literature) is not only necessary, it also can save lives, open minds and expand hearts. The books these women read, as the author says, not only became “essential to our lives: they were not a luxury but a necessity.” Any work that shares that sentiment with such moral imperative and emotional clarity should be treated the same way. Don’t miss this one.
  • Currently 3.5/5 Stars.
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