The Shipwrecked Read online

  Published in 2014 by the Feminist Press

  at the City University of New York

  The Graduate Center

  365 Fifth Avenue, Suite 5406

  New York, NY 10016

  feministpress.org

  Compilation and introduction copyright © 2014 by Fereshteh Nouraie-Simone

  “The Shipwrecked” and “Dogs and Humans” translation copyright © 2014 by Sara Khalili

  “Mermaid Café,” “Unsettled, Unbound,” “The Burnt Sound,” “Intercession,” “A Bloody Day of Ashura,” “The Bathhouse,” “The Wandering Cumulus Cloud,” “Grammar,” “The Queue,” and “Tehran” translation copyright © 2014 by Faridoun Farrokh

  “The Maid” is reprinted with permission from the Center for Middle Eastern Studies at the University of Texas at Austin.

  All rights reserved.

  This book was made possible thanks to a grant from New York State Council on the Arts with the support of Governor Andrew Cuomo and the New York State Legislature.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, used, or stored in any information retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission from the Feminist Press at the City University of New York, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First printing December 2014

  Cover design by Drew Stevens

  Text design by Suki Boynton

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  The shipwrecked : contemporary stories by women from Iran / edited by Fereshteh Nouraie-Simone ; translated from Farsi by Sara Khalili and Faridoun Farrokh.

  pages cm

  ISBN 978-1-55861-869-5 (ebook)

  1.Persian fiction—Women authors—Translations into English. 2.Short stories, Persian—Translations into English. 3.Persian fiction—21st century—Translations into English. 4.Women—Iran—Fiction. I. Nouraie-Simone, Fereshteh, editor. II. Khalili, Sara, translator. III. Farrokh, Faridoun, translator.

  PK6449.E7S55 2015

  891’.5530108—dc23

  2014032352

  CONTENTS

  Introduction

  FERESHTEH NOURAIE-SIMONE

  The Shipwrecked

  MONIRU RAVANIPOUR

  The Maid

  GOLI TARAGHI

  Mermaid Café

  MITRA ELIYATI

  Unsettled, Unbound

  FARIBA VAFI

  The Burnt Sound

  BEHNAZ ALIPOUR GASKARI

  Intercession

  MITRA DAVAR

  A Bloody Day of Ashura

  MASIH ALINEJAD

  The Bathhouse

  SHAHLA ZARLAKI

  The Wandering Cumulus Cloud

  ZOHREH HAKIMI

  Grammar

  SOFIA MAHMUDI

  Dogs and Humans

  FERESHTEH MOLAVI

  The Queue

  SHIVA ARASTOUIE

  Tehran

  MONIRU RAVANIPOUR

  Acknowledgments

  About the Editor

  Also Available from Feminist Press

  About Feminist Press

  INTRODUCTION

  THE SHIPWRECKED IS a collection of short stories written by a generation of Iranian women writers whose works mostly emerged after the 1979 revolution. Thematically, the collection deals with gender and sociopolitical issues in contemporary Iran. The centrality of politics in everyday life, and changes wrought by revolution, war, and religiously imposed segregation are reflected in these stories. Politics play out on women’s bodies, the personal becomes political, and the public sphere invades private space to silence dissent. The unifying thread linking the stories is the struggle for freedom, self-assertion, and subjectivity in a confined social environment.

  The protagonists in the stories are not actively engaged in politics, nor are they protesting in public, but they are angry and disillusioned. They address the realities of their society with their voice to deconstruct the dominant power and to challenge notions about gender politics. They want individual freedom and a less intrusive political space. They have become skillful in the art of survival and in subverting the controlled public space. And they have carved out a place of their own in which they are free to think and dream.

  To understand The Shipwrecked, it is necessary to understand the complicated history of the 1979 revolution, which was a turning point in Iranian history. Hoping for a better future, a wide range of political groups representing different classes and ideologies took part in the revolution to overthrow the Pahlavi monarchy. The secular groups had little in common with religious factions except the leadership of Ayatollah Khomeini, the charismatic religious figure with mass appeal, who provided a common purpose for a disparate coalition: to overthrow the monarchy. One salient feature of the revolution was the widespread participation of women fighting for social justice, human rights, and political freedom.

  Soon after the revolution, secular and Islamist forces clashed over the direction of the country. The secular opposition was outmaneuvered and marginalized, and a hardline Islamist camp ascended. Khomeini, the founding father of the Islamic Republic, promoted a policy of rapid Islamization as the key to social change and political control.

  The cultural policy of the regime was aimed at creating an Islamic identity by reshaping public space through gender segregation, the enforcement of strict Islamic dress code (including mandatory veiling), and monitoring of proper moral conduct. Most aspects of women’s lives became subject to state intervention.

  Ironically, the Islamization process and the gendered policy of the regime gave women, especially those from traditional families or low-income groups, the opportunity for social participation, higher education, and employment. In the process they gained gender awareness, political consciousness, and agency. Some of the writers represented here fall into this group.

  The large scale contribution of women to overthrowing the old regime, participating in the Iran-Iraq War of the 1980s, and assuming an active role in civil society laid the groundwork for women to push the gender boundaries of Islamism in favor of women’s rights and feminism.1 The postrevolutionary period also brought the flourishing of literature written by women as a powerful medium of artistic expression, giving them an empowered public voice. Literary production became dominated by women, and a mass readership led to the publication of a record number of novels, short stories, and poetry.2

  A younger generation of women writers, some of whom grew up in the postrevolutionary era, rejected the traditional narrative style in favor of exploring new nonlinear and fragmented literary techniques. The format of these works range from the narrative/anti narrative style to impressionism, to magic realism, and other experimental forms. The varied literary forms in The Shipwrecked, many of which employ allegories or metaphors to explore multiple meanings, work collectively to reveal the stresses and strains of social life, the detriment of censorship, and disillusionment with overtly religious ideology.

  The protagonists, who are sometimes the narrators, deal with the everyday experience of women in public and private realms. At the point we find them in the stories, most are restricted in their movements, either literally or physically. Their confinement comes in the form of jail cells, their homes, and even clothing they must wear in public. They mistrust all authority, including parental authority. Some watch passively as events unfold before them, others try to gain control over their lives. Each story presents characters frustrated by daily pressures, harassment, or an uncertain future.

  The loss and disillusionment which replaced the hope and exhilaration that followed the revolution is represented in the title s
tory, “The Shipwrecked,” by Moniru Ravanipour. Using allegorical gestures and magical realism, the narrative reveals what is hidden—the horror and violence citizens face in speaking up and for resisting authoritarianism. The story is an elegy to the death of freedom, and to the memory of those taken away. In a haunting, dreamlike narrative, a woman in a cold, dark cellar laments what has been lost and feels compelled to write. The magic grows out of the painful reality, and the flight of fancy lands on an unstable shore that pulls the dead and living into the depth of the sea, where only there are the silenced and drowned free to speak up and cry out for freedom.

  In “The Maid,” by Goli Taraghi, a privileged family is frightened and feels betrayed by the social upheaval the revolution brings. Their servants abandon them, demanding a share of the family’s wealth. In an attempt to cling to a familiar lifestyle, the family hires a new maid who has a clouded past and who causes more anxiety and mistrust. The overarching theme of the story is the turmoil the revolution brought to a class-bound society and the lack of trust that now pervades it.

  In “Mermaid Café,” Mitra Eliyati describes the tension, anxiety, and fear a crowd experiences as it is easily manipulated into attacking a tavern and destroying it as a relic of the past. The story is told through the eyes of a young adolescent boy who is infatuated with the mermaid figure perched at the top of the door. In his eyes, the inanimate figure is transformed to flesh and blood when he catches a glimpse of a woman behind a curtain crossing herself. The story juxtaposes the youth’s sincerity and honesty with the pretense of piety from a hypocritical crowd that frequents the tavern but is ready, in the name of public morality, to lie, cheat, and destroy.

  “Dogs and Humans,” by Fereshteh Molavi, is set against the chaotic backdrop of postrevolution, when fear and confusion dominate and shots are routinely heard. It depicts a period of social upheaval and rapid change. Drawing a parallel between a dog and her puppy and a woman and her sick child, the narrative style and complexity of the story resists a simple answer to how the characters have come to where they are and what their fates will be. Instead it acknowledges the contingent world they live in, where nothing can be taken for granted.

  Sofia Mahmudi goes further with textual experimentation in “Grammar.” The protagonist wryly ponders his life and his death posthumously as a study in grammar. His existence and the details of his demise are expressed through comparing them to parts of speech. Is the protagonist trying to gain control over his environment by searching for himself in confrontation with syntax?

  In “The Burnt Sound,” by Behnaz Alipour Gaskari, a young schoolgirl is imprisoned in solitary confinement for spray-painting political graffiti. She clings to every sound that comes through her prison wall. The heartfelt songs she hears from a garage next to the prison inhabit her cell and become her constant companion. She fantasizes about the young apprentice, whom she has never seen. She hears the daily shouting, and the abusive vulgar language of the shop owner and his street-smart roughnecks. The boy is obviously being harassed and possibly sexually abused. He stops singing his sweet, melancholy songs and takes drastic action. Did he do it out of revenge or desperation? Has he finally tragically escaped from his own prison in the process?

  Corporality and violence are interlinked in the “The Bathhouse,” by Shahla Zarlaki. It is set during the Iran-Iraq war at the time of air raids, when Iraqi bombs were dropping all over Iranian cities and neighborhoods. Women’s bodies are violated when a bomb explodes near the bathhouse, sending the women into chaos and darkness. The sound of the explosion may have caused the miscarriage of a pregnant woman, who has collapsed on the bathhouse floor. The violence of war becomes a reality in flesh and blood that defines the violated body.

  In “The Queue,” by Shiva Arastouie, the protagonist has been denied her degree for some unexplained reason. She is instructed to go to a certain office to obtain it. Now married, she has been cloistered in her home, and the act of trying to retrieve her degree forces her to confront her sheltered existence in contrast with her years as a student, when she was capable and independent. Ultimately, after standing for hours in a queue, and exhausted from waiting a whole day in the heat and noise of a crowded street, she is turned away without her degree as the office closes. She returns home defeated only to once again be forced to observe her life—this time from the outside.

  In Zohreh Hakimi’s story, “The Wandering Cumulus Cloud,” a married daughter who is subjected to domestic abuse pushes back against the dominant tradition of the paternalistic laws, asking for divorce and seeking to expose the oppressive gender order. Her father’s primary concern is the family honor, the scandal a divorce would present, and the disruption of social order. She is told to be a dutiful wife and accept her lot, or to be a slut who embarrasses the family and is unwelcomed in the parents’ home. The father urges her to go home, and “just be patient for a while.”

  “Intercession,” by Mitra Davar, incorporates echoes of the religious festival of Ashura and its rituals into the everyday life experience. The age-old pageantry, sacrificial slaughter of animals, and self-flagellation of the ceremony mingle with the protagonist’s memories of a lost love and her reflection on her marriage and children. The story portrays a belief system, with all its superstition and sacrifices, told to be capable of performing miracles and relieving hardship and misfortune. In reality it is a potent tool of persuasion, of conviction, and of political hegemony. As the protagonist muses, the dead “seem to be with us for ever and ever.”

  “A Bloody Day of Ashura,” by Masih Alinejad, captures the frenzy and anxiety of a political demonstration that ends in violent confrontation with the security police. A group of activists joins a protest march, mindful of state violence and security police. When a member of the militia on the side of the security police is injured in the process of trying to provoke the crowd to violence, a member of the group steps forward to protect him and quells the growing violence of the crowd.

  In Moniru Ravanipour’s story, “Tehran,” the themes of change, loss of trust, and betrayal are played out against the cityscape. The city—full of luxury goods, choked in traffic, and bared of its tree-lined streets—becomes the site of transition from hope to despair that followed the short-lived halcyon days of the revolution. The city becomes a repository of varying values and experiences, and a metaphor for hypocrisy, deceit, and corruption.

  The protagonist in “Unsettled, Unbound,” by Fariba Vafi, finds there is no place to hide from the watchful eyes of her inquisitive landlord. The intrusion that invades her privacy leaves her no moment of rest. The only remedy is to leave the abode that once held the promise of peace, tranquility, and relief from the chaos outside. Better to be unsettled and free than to be constantly under the watchful eyes of an intruder. She challenges the sexist, patriarchal assumptions of the culture by giving up the comfort of the place in order to be free, to move at will, and to define a new life for herself.

  The collection of short stories presented here provides a glimpse into the cultural and social currents of contemporary Iran and gives us a small sample of the rich literature produced by Iranian women in the postrevolutionary era. In spite of all the sociopolitical problems, economic hardship, censorship, and prohibition from publishing, an impressive number of Iranian women from diverse backgrounds have achieved great literary success and recognition. Their writing, from a variety of perspectives and experiences, broadens the literary discourse. The emergence of feminism and sociopolitical awareness has enabled female writers to challenge the sexist and patriarchal assumptions of the culture, to break down traditional gender barriers and, through each writer’s distinct literary voice, to transform consciousness and experience.

  —Fereshteh Nouraie-Simone

  1Parvin Paidar, “Gender of Democracy: The Encounter between Feminism and Reformism in Contemporary Iran.” UN Research Institute for Social Development, 29 (October 2001).

  2Nazila Fathi, “Women Writing Novels Emerge as Stars i
n Iran,” New York Times, June 29, 2005.

  The Shipwrecked

  Moniru Ravanipour

  SHE CONSIDERED WRITING, “the woman was sitting in the cellar.” But she had never seen the cellar. She had to write, “the woman was in the hallway” or someplace dank and salt stained, “with the blistering cold of the island and the winds of December.” Then she remembered that the island isn’t so cold in December and it is in early January that the weather takes a breath and is rid of the heat and humidity. She had to write, “January, and four lit candles in that small dark room or cellar,” which must have been wet, because wherever you are on the island, if you dig even a few inches into the ground, water will seep out. Grandmother, who is buried in this old cemetery, always said, “Here everything floats on water, everything. We’re just fooling ourselves thinking we live on solid ground.” Grandmother was right, there is no dry ground on the island, and it’s worse in a cellar. Its floor must be wet. There are cracks in the ceiling and the walls are salt stained.

  She could write, “the woman was alone with a wet wooden bed and a blanket in which someone was wrapped.” And the blanket was new, checkered pink and white. At times like these they usually take the best things and then the pink-and-white blanket gets muddied. Dirt and mud stick to it and bloodstains slowly spread on it resembling a crab reaching out its claws beseechingly in every direction. A crab, a crab that wants to escape, escape in every direction. A crab that has lost its mind, that reaches out its claws in every direction yet remains in one place. In one place, on the checkered blanket, and only its claws stretch out and reach the edge of the blanket, the blanket that will surely get muddied or stained with a mix of blood and mud if Golestani is not tied to something, to a tree, for instance. Afterward Golestani must have fallen: first his knees buckled, he tried to remain on his feet, but the next hail of bullets mowed him down like a storm that uproots a tree, and then sparrow-like, he shuddered and a pair of hands untied him. And still bent over, Golestani slid to the ground headfirst, and then those hands took hold of his feet and dragged him. Dragged him to the side so that they could tie the next person to the tree. A tree that smelled of gunpowder, that had long smelled of gunpowder. But what tree, what massive tree is there at the harbor that can withstand this? A palm tree certainly can’t: with the first person and the first barrage of bullets it will be done for, and a silk-tasseled acacia will never let you tie someone to its trunk and kill him. Ten days before she died, Grandmother saw with her own eyes the silk-tasseled acacia tree that had been pulled up by its roots from a town square, wailing like a grieving woman and heading toward the sea to drown itself.