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Back in Vienna again, on my way home from a visit to the outer districts of the city, I was unexpectedly caught in a heavy shower of rain that sent people running from its wet whiplash to take refuge…
You wrote on the back page
of my last essay (“Political
Education in The Republic”)
“Good ideas, but style
too literary. Use of images
evades the…
If I had to pick one defining moment in my Iranian life, it would be 5:00 a.m. one Friday in the fall of 1968. I was fifteen. Normally I woke to the sounds of a peddler selling green almonds and fava…
I was going to publish this novel under another name.
If I sought to hide its true father, it was not because I was ashamed of the son, but because books with my name on them…