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My mother and I are out walking. I ask if she remembers the women in that building in the Bronx. “Of course,” she replies. I tell her I’ve always thought sexual rage was what made them so crazy.…
There are two things I ought to make clear. First, almost as soon as she starts telling me about her career (as we wade through the sleet from the bus stop to the market), my grandmother declares that…
My parents had been married for five years when I was born, the second child after my sister, and, as far back as I can remember, I never heard them quarreling. It is possible that they…
That was how she watched over the samovar all night long, so that it would boil properly. Occasionally, Grandfather stayed over for several nights at the home of one of the gentry. Then, she would…
It is not a grave that opens up to us in this book, but a human heart. the memoirs that are now seeing the light for the first time would have deserved to be published a long time…
A.
Grandma Rekhl—my mother’s mother, whose name the members of the household and the people of the town all pronounced with exactness: Rekhl precisely with an “e,”…
You won’t find the restaurant in the guidebooks, which is a pity. The owner—he was tall and wearing a sport jacket—greeted us at the door. Our table was waiting in the corner.
“And the food is quite…
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…
My father lived to be ninety-eight, and until the end of his life he never failed to introduce my sister and me with a grand gesture as his “two disappointments.” We were, very simply put, an…
No, we will not have children. Sometimes, with the passing of generations, a generation arises that takes for itself all the wellsprings of life that eternity prepared for an eternity without leaving…