This is the second book I’ve reviewed in the past month that’s written in first person! What’s going on?!

The narrator remarks that this public teasing by nine-year-old girls would never happen in Iran: “They do not draw attention to themselves; they do not go to school with boys. They do not swing their long red hair and expect with Ella’s certainty that romantic love is in their future” (1).

The narrator is drawing a deep cultural line very early on. The cultural divide is apparent to her even in schoolyard teasings.

She takes a picture of the schoolyard girls, already preparing to study the picture at home to note the differences between her Iranian culture and their American one. Romantic love is expected in America, whereas in Iran, marriage is still a business negotiation between two families. It is inescapable, even for the narrator.

This seems to be the first source of conflict for the narrator: marriage. It’s unclear who the narrator is in this introductory section, whether it’s Tamila or not.

After the page break on page 3, the narrator is celebrating her 27^th birthday. She had become a teacher of young girls in the religious context of North Tehran, but the aches and pains of the job made her resign. Her lack of a life outside of her home has made her depressed, which is the reason her family is throwing her a birthday party with her closest friends and relatives. During dinner, they announce that Reza, a friend’s son, has returned from London and is looking for a wife. The narrator realizes that she will be married to Reza, but doesn’t seem particularly happy.

I enjoy how every snippet of Iranian life seems to be a sort of explanation of the culture and what it is that make Tamila want to leave.

After a break on page 5, the party guests leave to brave the dangerous night in Tehran. The narrator’s father reminisces about when he was 27—back in California at UC Berkeley. He returned to Iran with his family during a tumultuous period in the 1970s and hasn’t been able to leave since. He announces that he has a present for her. Her mother fetches it, looking excited and nervous at once. She opens the box and finds a perfume bottle—it’s identical to one she had received when she was 5. The perfume bottle had been full of sand from America, which she would return to America when she was older. Tamila (finally named) opens the latest promise of America and finds her very own passport and plane ticket. As Tamila weeps with joy with her proud family, she remembers the pictures from her childhood of a happy life in California. She knows she’s never coming back.

A trip to America seems to be Tamila’s ultimate gift. Her life in Tehran seems claustrophobic and unhappy. She seems particularly affected by Tehran’s traditionalism and repressive actions against women.

After a marked break on page 11, the little perfume bottle is packed in Tamila’s luggage. Once the pilot announces that they have left Iranian airspace, the women cheep and rip off their headscarves, running fingers through their hair. Tamila takes off her own hejab, accepts the wine offered by the flight attendant, and makes eye contact with him—all which is illegal for a woman to do in Iran.

I don’t know if I buy this reaction to leaving Iranian airspace. This might be a side effect of the writer being American and not Iranian, but I am suspicious.

Chapter two begins on page 12 when the plane dips for landing in Tucson. The altitude drops suddenly, so Tamila starts saying her prayers in Farsi. The woman sitting next to her asks her what language she’s speaking in and what’s she saying, she is impressed that Tamila is so recently from Iran. Tamila explains that she is moving to America to get married and that she hasn’t met him yet: “How do I feel about that? What, I want to ask, does that have to do with anything? I am here on a three-month visa. The sole purpose of my trip is to find a way to stay, and that means I must find a husband who will sponsor my application for residency” (14).

I love the plain urgency in Tamila’s voice—marriage is not about convenience or love, it’s a serious endeavor to escape the religious pressure in Iran. The freedoms shown by the woman sitting next to her seem to appall Tamila’s sensibilities, everything from the shirt she wears, the question about her feelings, her broad smile, her two divorces, and her comments about her Persian boyfriend’s sexual prowess. The culture shock is going to be a big one.

After a break on page 15, Tamila sees her sister, Maryam, for the first time in 15 years. Maryam has gotten beautiful, wearing her makeup and gold like she would at a house party in Iran—but this is out in public! Maryam responds: “Everyone is beautiful in America, Tami Joon.” She has also gotten a boob job, a true stamp of American culture. Maryam instructs Tamila to change clothes in the bathroom—there are about 60 people waiting to meet her at home. Tamila doesn’t have the energy to argue with her bossy Persian sister.

Every aspect of her arrival in America is a shock, even her older sister’s appearance. Maryam has completely accepted the freer way of life here—a possible source of conflict between the two sisters, despite the religious repression Tamila is obviously fleeing.

Chapter three starts on page 20 and the two women leave the airport. Tamila notices even the stars look different, the air is crisper, than in Tehran. Maryam has a gold Mercedes, another status symbol. Her house is equally as impressive. The party is in full swing, which makes Tami nervous about the police—but she has nothing to worry about. Maryam is going to introduce Tami to Mohammed Behruzi, a 38-year-old from Iran. Tami waits by the door so she doesn’t have to take her shoes off, Mohammed walks up and offers his hand, something impolite in Iranian society. Tami immediately doesn’t like him when he hides a sneer at her traditionalism.

The lack of traditionalism in the Iranian-American community is really interesting. These people really do see their old culture as being shackles they need to cast off. Though they still celebrate their old culture’s status symbols as trophies amongst themselves, they have forsaken the religious laws enforced in Iran. See below.

Maryam’s house is opulent to the extreme—it looks like a government official’s would in Iran. There are Persian rugs, dates, an Iranian television show on TV, and Siavesh, Iran’s biggest pop star, is on the stereo. Tami is overwhelmed, but slightly disappointed at how Iranian America is. Tamila ends up sitting on the couch with Mohammed, at his mother’s insistence, and he bluntly tells Tami that he’s living with his girlfriend and if he marries anyone it will be her. He offers Tami the advice that if she’s looking for a husband it will probably be a traditional Iranian man—in other words, don’t let Maryam dress her like an American. Tami is offended and goes to the bathroom to splash water on her face: “I didn’t come all this way to wear a chador” (30). She ends up crawling into the bathtub and falling asleep.

This seems to be another source of conflict: the man that Tami is supposed to marry. There’s no doubt in her mind that she has to marry someone, but she seems resistant to the idea of marrying a traditional Iranian man. Though this is the “right” thing to do that would make her parents happy, it seems likely that she’ll find someone more American.

Chapter four stars on page 32 with Mohammed finding Tami asleep in the bathtub. She is drooling, snoring, and showing her big white Persian panties. The next morning, Tamila is horrified. Maryam promptly takes her shopping for some new underwear and Tami is further amazing by the cultural differences: “Here, everything seems designed to make men think of sex. There, everything is meant to suppress it… Here, boys and girls hold hands and openly kiss each other. In Iran, even married people do not do this in public” (35). And thus, Tamila is introduced to Victoria’s Secret for some new underwear, where she is almost sick with shock and insecurities. This blows over, however, with the gorgeous laces and colors and the two women leave with their new underwear.

I like the image of a fresh-off-the-boat Iranian woman being taken to Victoria’s Secret on her first day in America. It seems to be a huge culture clash and a great mode of comparison of two wildly different cultures.

Chapter five begins after Tamila has been in Tucson for about a week. She is going to try to get to her English class alone, the first time without Maryam as a chaperone. Full of excitement, Tami begins her trek across the University of Arizona campus towards the downtown library where her English class is meeting. After a 30-minute walk, she finds the university Starbucks and steps inside. The coffee smell reminds her of days as a child at her grandmother’s house in Esfahan, where the older people talked about corrupt leaders, boycotts, and executions. She is very far away from all that now. The man behind the Starbucks counter offers her a free sample and Tami mistakes this for bartering. She keeps offering the man money, which he refuses. She shoves $5 into the tip jar and sits outside. Two policemen arrive and Tami immediately assumes they’re there for her. But they ask if she’s alright and drive away. Near tears, she sits back down and Ike, the man behind the Starbucks counter, comes out and asks if she’s alright. He explains the concept of a free sample and Tami notices the attraction in his eyes. He offers her another English lesson after he gets off work, but she refuses. She smiles the rest of the way to her class. The chapter ends on page 52.

I think the interjection about the police is great. It’s depressing how intimidated she is by authority. It seems that Ike is going to be a likely love interest and another source of cultural contrast.

The biggest question I had about this novel was answered right on Laura Fitzgerald’s website:

What's an American author writing about an Iranian woman for, anyway?

Good question! My husband (of sixteen years) was born in Iran and became an expatriate at the age of ten, shortly before the government overthrow of 1979. His parents sent all five children out of the country. For a long time, they remained behind.

The momentousness of what his parents did to keep their children safe and give them a chance at happiness fully hit me only after we had children of our own. A child doesn't get to pick where he's born. What if our kids had been born in an unstable country, or a third-world country - would I have the courage and selflessness to send them away in order that they might have a chance for a better future, like my husband's parents did? Even today, I can't answer that question.

I am fascinated by people and the choices they make. It's what I keep coming back to in my writing. As you'll see over time, no matter what genre I write in, this seems to be what I explore - in the moment that counts, what will this person choose, and who will she become as a result?

I found this distracting in the same way that men writing from the perspective of a female character is. Though this might be nothing more than a personal hang up.

Otherwise, I really enjoyed the cultural contrasts in every line, the internal conflict of love versus marriage, and the roll of tradition in a modern society. I would certainly be happy to read the rest of the book.