At the heart of it all, at its core, are characters so rich, so real, so brave and human--they illuminate the world we live in, make it radiant, worth fighting for. Fictitious though they are, these beloved spirits, drawn from repressive cultures and fearsome revolutions, remind us of the human capacity for creativity, tenderness, devotion. I'm not sure I've ever read a novel about repression, migration and exile that's so vividly captured the migrant's terror, the migrant's suffering, the infinite dimensions of her loss. All this comes across, excruciatingly, in Djavadi's story.
Disoriental is about Persian/Iranian culture and the cruel twists of 20th century history. It's about family, and its claim on us, and the necessity of breaking away (and coming home). It's about sexuality and gender and finding one's self in order to go home whole. But most of all, most of all, Disoriental is about Kimia and her journey into exile and beyond. A journey she doesn't choose. And then a journey that she does.
Here's a story that bruises the heart, and then (almost immediately) thrills the soul.
