Reading Matters

'The Saffron Kitchen' by Yasmin Crowther

Fiction - paperback; Abacus; 270 pages; 2007.

Set in London and rural Iran The Saffron Kitchen examines how the country of our birth and the culture in which we are born can have long-lasting effects on our values and sense of self. It also looks at how our relationships -- with family, friends and lovers -- can shape our past, present and future lives.

Told from the view point of an Iranian-born mother and her London-born daughter, the novel also reveals how difficult it can be to start a new life in a foreign land when you do not know the language and have no support network to guide you. How does one fit in? And what do you do if you feel you don't truly belong?

These questions haunt the main character of this intriguing novel. Maryam Mazar is an Iranian-born woman who fled to England when her father, a strong military man, disowned her. Here she met Edward, an Englishman, married him, had his child and settled in the leafy, affluent London suburb of Richmond. But over the course of their long married life Maryam was haunted by her past, particularly her father's brutality. Although she kept these concerns to herself, Edward was always suspicious that it was not just the pull of the snow-capped mountains and windswept plains of her homeland that were causing her restlessness and dramatic mood swings.

It is only when Maryam's daughter, Sara, suffers a miscarriage that Maryam must truly face the demons of her past. Desperate to find solace among her own people she flees to the remote Iranian village of her childhood where she must face another dilemma: should she return to her husband in London or live out the rest of her days in her homeland?

There's no doubt that The Saffron Kitchen is an enjoyable, entertaining read and that Crowther is an accomplished writer. But I had some problems with it.

First, the book's structure seemed a little odd. Parts of the storyline are told through Maryam's eyes (in the third person), others through Sara's (in the first person) and the switches between the two narratives often felt clunky.

Second, there was a slight tendency towards melodrama, with some of the scenes -- and much of the dialogue -- feeling forced and unnatural. A bit more polish and perhaps another draft might have ironed this out.

Finally, I'm not sure that Maryam would really have made the decision she made at the end. Of course, I can't really say more than that without revealing a major plot spoiler, so you'll have to trust me on this!

But on the whole The Saffron Kitchen brings to life the stark differences between staid, safe England and the confusion and turbulence of Iran's political past, and for that reason alone it is worth a read.

'The Blood of Flowers' by Anita Amirrezvani

 

Fiction - hardcover; Headline Review; 384 pages; 2007. Review copy courtesy of Waterstones.com

We all struggle to live a life of our choosing, but imagine what it must be like to be a female in a very male world, a world in which women cannot be seen much less heard, a world in which even the most talented must give themselves over to marriage and motherhood -- no questions asked. This is the premise behind this lush, luminous tale by first-time novelist Anita Amirrezvani that is due for publication next month.

Set in Iran in the 1620s, The Blood of Flowers is about one girl's painful journey from naive young peasant to hard-bitten business woman. When her father dies, the unnamed narrator is forced to flee to the city with her mother in tow. Here in the captivating capital of Isfahan, they are taken in as house servants by  an uncle and his demanding wife. Their new life is riddled with broken promises and much hard work, but the saving grace is the narrator's special talent for carpet making, which is strengthened under her uncle's tutelage.

But being able to design and knot carpets is not enough to secure her future: only marriage to a wealthy man can do that. And if marriage is not an option, the next best thing, a temporary contract known as a sigheh, will have to do -- provided it is kept secret...

The Blood of Flowers is a sweeping, extravagant and sexy tale about life lived against the odds in another era and another culture. Amirrezvani very much brings this Cinderella-like story to life with gorgeous descriptions of the scenery and architecture, the bazaars and market stalls, the hand-knotted carpets and the factories in which they are made. But it is when she is describing food and the interiors of wealthy people's homes that she really comes into her own: the detail is, at times, mouth-watering to the point of making one feel hungry and desperate for an inky-black coffee.

Amirrezvani is also very good at moving the plot along at a rapid pace, helped in part by putting her narrator though incredible ups and heartrending downs, testing her will at every opportunity. And the characterisation is strong if somewhat stereotyped -- the wicked aunt, the kindly uncle, the poor mother.

My only quibble is that the narrator's sexual awakening -- a quite critical component of the storyline and reminiscent in many ways of Debbie Taylor's The Fourth Queen and M.R.Lovric's Carnevale -- goes on for so long that I became bored with it.

Ultimately, The Blood of Flowers is a delicious, entertaining fairy tale that captivated me for the two days I took to read it. It will especially appeal to anyone who appreciates great storytelling (the main storyline is interspersed with traditional Iranian and Islamic tales) and wonderfully evocative writing. And I rather suspect it will be on the best-seller list before we know it!