This week, the Latent Book Club dives into Azar Nafisi’s ‘Reading Lolita In Tehran,’ an inspiring—if at times monotonous—memoir which captures the comforts of literature, and the search for freedom, in revolutionary Iran.
The Iranian revolution occurred in 1979. Iran’s monarch, Shah Mohammad Reza Pahlavi, was overthrown, and an Islamic republic under Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini was established. Azar Nafisi knows this moment well, for it came to define her life, and certainly her writing.
As she argues, the revolution was no boon for lovers of literature, of human rights, or the west. As Khomeini seized control, social freedoms, notably for women, plummeted. And it is this lack of freedom, as far as women are concerned, that is the focus of her memoir, Reading Lolita in Tehran.
Interestingly, Iran is now ranked amongst the least socially free counties in the world. Sadly, corruption and malpractice reigns supreme: In 2023, Iran placed joint 149th place (out of 180) in the rankings of global corruption perceptions by country, tying with Lebanon. As a barometer, Russia is ranked as less corrupt (a mere 141st place).
Although Nafisi does not significantly traverse the causes of the revolution (she deals more with the consequences, notably—as one might expect in a memoir—the personal ones), the context is important, as grounds the sense of frustration, hurt and even rage Nafisi expresses throughout the novel.
Attributing the Iranian Revolution to one cause is impossible, suffice to say it was sparked by a combination of socio-economic grievances, political repression, and religious fervour, resulting in widespread protests against the Shah's autocratic rule, his pro-west stance, and perceived corruption. Khomeini put paid to that. A once-exiled Shia cleric, Khomeini returned and managed to establish an Islamic government, with himself as Supreme Leader. He fundamentally transformed Iran's political landscape, the legacy of which (following his death in 1989) continues to impact regional and global dynamics, particularly in the Middle East.
Although many of Khomeini’s actions are infamous, the one that lingers most in the literary world’s memory is the 1989 Fatwa he pronounced against Salman Rushdie, an abiding threat, which resulted in his partial blinding in 2022.
Most of Reading Lolita in Tehran is, as its name suggests, set in Tehran, Iran’s capital. Situated at the foothills of the Alborz Mountains, Tehran itself is very much its own character in this book. Once known as a centre of culture, and still highly regarded for its juxtaposition of modernity and tradition, Nafisi speaks of her hometown with love, sadness, and a passion that—counterintuitively—does much to encourage the prospective visitor. However, as she reveals, much of what she once adored about her home has been destroyed, and what remained was not enough to keep her.
The book itself is a true story and memoir. It charts how Nafisi, once a university of Tehran Professor of literature founded an underground book club, forged out of her former University of Tehran students. When the revolution curtailed the freedoms Nafisi enjoyed, rather than stopping teaching literature altogether (an act that was deemed subversive), instead she hosted this clandestine group at her own home. Doing so was not without risk, indeed, at times it seems incredible Nafisi, who was known for being ‘difficult’ (her word choice, not ours) managed to come away unscathed.
In her book club, Nafisi continued to teach the literature her students (and she) still enjoyed. In doing so, she found an outlet to express her creative energies that had been suppressed by the new regime. And in literature, she found (notably in the characters of Henry James and James Austen) the strength and inspiration to continue doing so; a point to which we shall return.
First, however, we should deal with the criticisms of Reading Lolita In Tehran. The reader comes to understand (at length) just how bad the revolution was for freedom, as Nafisi argues. It was a contributor to a conflict with Saddam Hussain’s Iraq, who invaded Iran in 1980, triggering an 8 year war, during which 500,000 people were killed. As Nafisi states, it resulted in kidnap, and torture, and state sanctioned murder. One might think this point could not be made too often. However, Nafisi’s treatment of Iran’s regime transcends the individually awful instances, and descends into one long monotonous complaint, which ultimately mars the tone of her work.
True enough, it may be said that Nafisi has a lot to complain about. Bombs drop, her work becomes untenable, acquaintances are killed, and a rising tide of censorship threatens all she holds dear. Such things are horrific. True indeed. However, the tone in which this is presented, relentlessly throughout the book, on virtually every page, begins to come across as one continuous complaint, which ultimately serves to dilute, rather than underscore the book’s message— which should be one of subversion, defiance, and strength.
Coupled with this, it is clear that Nafisi is a woman of means, of intelligence, and options. When we open, she has already studied successfully in the US, and toys with the idea of leaving Iran (something she eventually does, painfully deciding to forgo the country she loves). However, one gets the sense that the peril is not quite the same for Nafisi than the average Iranian. Now, she does not exactly profess to be a mere member of the proletariat—fair enough, she is teaching a fairly rarefied subject at a University after all. But as Nafisi’s droning protestations continue, the reader is reminded of the line from Pulp’s song ‘Common People,’ in which Jarvis Cocker narrates an encounter with a rich student who wanted to experience being ‘common’ (ie poor). As Cocker chides his Greek admirer, it’s not something she could ever really achieve, because, ‘If you called your dad he could stop it all’. Now, ‘class traitor’ is a strong, and very probably boneheaded charge to make. But Nafisi’s relative privilege is obvious, and the reader can detect the whiff of the hypocrite there, which like burning hair, once smelled - is difficult not to notice.
‘class traitor’ is a strong, and very probably boneheaded charge to make. But Nafisi’s relative privilege is obvious, and the reader can detect the whiff of the hypocrite there, which like burning hair, once smelled - is difficult not to notice.
In one notable passage Nafisi comes close to a realisation—possibly a revelation— as to how her continual negativity affects others. Throughout the book, she admonishes her husband about the failures of the Iranian government, which it must be conceded are large. However, at one point, Nafisi’s husband professes his disinterest in the next salvo on this topic Nafisi is preparing to launch. Pausing to reflect, for once, why he is not interested, she reflects:
I knew I was being unfair to him. He was not insensitive to the hardships of life in the Islamic Republic, but he was on the defensive these days whenever I complained. I protested as if he were responsible for all the woes brought upon us by the regime, and this in turn made him withdraw into himself and act if he were indifferent about the things he actually felt very strongly about.
Oh how this passage resonated, perhaps more than any other in the book. In reading it, we are one with the husband. We care about Iran, and its citizens. But we can only take so much. If only Nafisi took her own logic one step further, and reflected that this is, by page 302, (on which the quoted passage appears) precisely how the reader is feeling too.
Criticisms aside, Reading Lolita in Tehran is not without its charms. At her gatherings, Nafisi brings the reader along with her (anonymised, but real) characters, her students. During these clandestine meetings, forbidden Western classics like ‘Lolita,’ ‘The Great Gatsby,’ and ‘Pride and Prejudice’ become tools for resistance and self-discovery. This is perhaps the book’s triumph - as a celebration of the transformative power of literature. This is an uplifting theme, and the most resonant on offer.
Nafisi illustrates how these novels serve as mirrors, reflecting the struggles, desires, and dreams of the women in her book club. Despite the oppressive regime attempting to silence dissenting voices, literature becomes a sanctuary—a space where imagination thrives and personal agency is reclaimed. And Nafisi claims some of these boons herself. She is firmly grappling with her own questions, of identity, belonging, and exile throughout her narrative. Literature, and its consolations, give her a framework for dealing with that.
Overall, in Reading Lolita in Tehran, Nafisi offers readers a thought-provoking conversation on the intersection of literature, politics, and personal liberation. She proves that literature can be the fire to guide one through extremely dark times, and its own act of promethean subversion, in the right circumstances. Nafisi has had her fair share of critics, as any important work is surely bound to attract. Such vitriol being directed against her for what is an introspective and ultimately consoling work, make it easier to forgive Reading Lolita in Tehran’s more obvious flaws.
Nafisi, now a US resident, should be applauded for her novel, for her insight, and for her efforts in radiating culture, even in the dark.
Before you go…
Read Our Catalogue of Long Form Literary Criticism:
Check out some of the highlights of 2023:
Joseph Heller’s masterwork novel Catch-22
Booker Prize Winner Iris Murdoch’s The Sea, The Sea
Booker Prize Winner Kazuo Ishiguro’s The Remains of The Day
Pulitzer Prize and Nobel Prize for Literature winner Saul Bellow’s Humboldt’s Gift,
Breakout Australian Novelist Amy Taylor’s Search History
Or see of our full range of literary criticism in our archive.
Subscribe to The Latent Book Club for free
Nafisi not enough? Make sure you don’t more reviews, and other great recommendations and analysis by subscribing, for free, to The Latent Book Club.