Laurae1212's Reviews > Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books

I am a lover of books. I am a lover of history. I am a lover of cultures. Consequently, I expected to love this book. Sadly, I found my dissappointment growing with each page I turned. The premise of the novel was certainly interesting- exploring times, the way that they were viewed, the oppression of women, religious fanaticism and political regimes that adopted Sharia, family, and the overall way that a country grew dissillusioned with iteself through novels was certainly an interesting one. Yet, the novel failed to fulfill its promise. I was very hopeful at the beginning, I quite enjoyed the section on Lolita, and I feel I would have even had I not read Nabokov previously. However, then, as we turned to Gatsby, that initial love died. Now, don't get me wrong, it had nothing to do with Gatsby itself. I adore The Great Gatsby and F.Scott Fitzgerald. But there was such an abrupt shift in time and place, and even in character- I lost all connection I had to the girls I had grown attached to, and I no longer felt any attachment to the author herself. Suddenly, she started to become very self-centered. Some of her complaints seemed too petty, after all there are problems within every nation, but more than that, it was not that she sought refuge in her books, but that she expected others to do the same that annoyed me. I enjoyed the actual analysis on Gatsby, but I the author grew more and more conceited as it went on. It just continued from there on. The novel continued to offer disconnected snapshots of life, that while powerful, never allowed me to truly emphasize because as quickly as they came they faded. Always there was a fleeing to books. And while I could see how the books connected, none seemed to resonate with the actual problems in the country as much as Lolita had. Gatsby and the failed dream I could understand- by Daisy Miller I was lost. Now, admittedly, I have never much enjoyed James, but I found that besides the point, asI also disliked other sections dealing with books I enjoyed. I was truly hoping for the book to redeem itself with an intelligent and relevant discussion of Pride and Prejudice. It failed utterly. I found the end dissatisfying, less connected than anything previously, and it had even lost what had made it charming to begin with- no longer was there an insightful discussion of novels, nor did I feel anything for the author or even the students much at this point. They were completely removed from me, I saw them through a lens, as studies not as actual people. Since this is a memoir, and these people are all real, this is a great failing. They are people who are supposed to come alive, and I felt as they were besotted with themselves, their own pretension, particularly Nafisi's, was unbearable. There were some positive aspects of the book- it gave me a great insight, if often tinged- I felt Nafisi was too biased, I understand why, but I thought that she regarded all of the revolutionaries as inferior beings, not intellectual in the least simply because they had different ideals- into the Iranian revolution and the culture there, and gave me new insights into some of my favorite novels. I am only saddened that the clear bias and narcissism of the author ruined this experience for me. It could have been a great intellectual and cultural study. As it was, it was merely decent, and while the subject material was engaging, I was wishing for it to end.