Vladimir Nabokov

NABOKV-L post 0007769, Sat, 19 Apr 2003 08:49:08 -0700

Subject
READING LOLITA IN TEHRAN --
Date
Body
EDNOTE. Professor Raguet-Bouvart is a leading Nabokov authority in France
where LOLITA is among the required books list for graduates in English
literature. She is part of the editorial group for the in-progress Pleiade
editioin of VN's works.

----- Original Message -----
From: <c.raguetbouvart@free.fr>
.
From Christine Raguet-Bouvart:

I`m writing from Tehran where I`m organizing seminars and delivering
lectures on translation studies and about Nabokov... and Lolita at the
university of Tehran!
I brought with me the books I wrote about Nabokov and about Lolita and
they are in the library of the French department.
Speaking about Lolita in Tehran...
(Next week I`ll do the same in Esfahan)

Quite interesting subject to me, your debate...

Professor Christine Raguet-Bouvart
Paris III-Sorbonne Nouvelle


> > ----- Original Message -----
> > From: Sandy P. Klein
> >
> >
> > washingtonpost.com
> >
> > http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A1581-2003Apr9.html
> > Defiant Words
> > 'Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books' by Azar Nafisi
> >
> > By Jonathan Yardley,
> > whose e-mail address is yardley@twp.com
> > Thursday, April 10, 2003; Page C08
> >
> >
> > READING LOLITA IN TEHRAN
> > A Memoir in Books
> > By Azar Nafisi
> > Random House. 347 pp. $23.95
> >
> > In 1995, Azar Nafisi resigned the position she had held for eight years
> > as professor of literature at Allameh Tabatabai University in Tehran.
> > Under the rule of the mullahs, "life in the Islamic Republic was as
> > capricious as the month of April, when short periods of sunshine would
> > suddenly give way to showers and storms," she writes in "Reading Lolita
> > in Tehran." For a time there had been "a period of relative calm and
> > so-called liberalization," but now "universities had once more become
> > the targets of attack by the cultural purists who were busy imposing
> > stricter sets of laws," especially for female students.
> >
> > Nafisi finally could take it no longer. She resigned, but the desire to
> > teach and read remained strong. She decided to continue to teach, but in
> > secret. She invited seven of her best students to meet in the living
> > room of her own house to talk about the books they were reading, books
> > by the likes of Vladimir Nabokov, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Henry James and
> > Jane Austen:
> >
> > "I had explained to them the purpose of the class: to read, discuss and
> > respond to works of fiction. Each would have a private diary, in which
> > she should record her responses to the novels, as well as ways in which
> > these works and their discussions related to her personal and social
> > experiences. . . . I mentioned that one of the criteria for the books I
> > had chosen was their authors' faith in the critical and almost magical
> > power of literature, and reminded them of the nineteen-year-old Nabokov,
> > who, during the Russian Revolution, would not allow himself to be
> > diverted by the sound of bullets. He kept on writing his solitary poems
> > while he heard the guns and saw the bloody fights from his window. Let
> > us see, I said, whether seventy years later our disinterested faith will
> > reward us by transforming the gloomy reality created of this other
> > revolution."
> >
> > Gloomy certainly is the word for it. To live in the Iran of the mullahs
> > was to be "victims of the arbitrary nature of a totalitarian regime that
> > constantly intruded into the most private corners of our lives and
> > imposed its relentless fictions on us." It was absurdism carried to an
> > absurd degree: "The chief film censor in Iran, up until 1994, was
> > blind," or "nearly blind," and "the colorless lenses of the blind
> > censor" made him "the poet's rival in rearranging and reshaping
> > reality." The class that Nafisi organized was therefore "an attempt to
> > escape the gaze of the blind censor," a place where "we rediscovered
> > that we were also living, breathing human beings; and no matter how
> > repressive the state became, no matter how intimidated and frightened we
> > were, like Lolita we tried to escape and to create our own little
> > pockets of freedom."
> >
> > The meaning of Nafisi's title at once becomes clear: How we read works
> > of literature can depend as much on who we are and where we are as on
> > the works themselves. Reading "Lolita" in Tehran in the 1990s was not
> > the same as reading "Lolita" in Washington in 2003. The story of the
> > nymphet Lolita and her guardian/rapist Humbert Humbert strikes different
> > chords in different places, thus reminding us of the limitless power of
> > literature -- of art -- to reveal and to transform, and of the limitless
> > legitimate interpretations to which great literature lends itself.
> >
> > Nafisi and her students flatly rejected some of the most common
> > interpretations of this great novel: that the girl is "corrupt," a
> > "monster," or that "the story [is] a great love affair," or that the
> > novel should be condemned "because they feel Nabokov turned the rape of
> > a twelve-year-old into an aesthetic experience." Instead: "Lolita
> > belongs to a category of victims who have no defense and are never given
> > a chance to articulate their own story. As such, she becomes a double
> > victim: not only her life but also her life story is taken from her. We
> > told ourselves we were in that class to prevent ourselves from falling
> > victim to this second crime."
> >
> > This is an entirely plausible reading of the novel -- not far, in fact,
> > from the way many contemporary Nabokovians see the book -- and if you
> > were a young woman in Tehran in 1995 it may well have been the only way
> > to read it. To say this is not to suggest that literature should be read
> > for therapeutic purposes -- quite to the contrary -- but that the
> > experience each reader brings to it, the conditions in which the reader
> > encounters it, can transform the book as well as the reader. All the
> > same, though, the reading that Nafisi's class did had what can only be
> > called therapeutic value. She quotes from Nabokov's preface to "Bend
> > Sinister" -- "a rent in his world leading to another world of
> > tenderness, brightness and beauty" -- and says:
> >
> > "I think in some ways our readings and discussions of the novels in that
> > class became our moments of pause, our link to that other world. . . .
> > It allowed us to defy the repressive reality outside the room -- not
> > only that, but to avenge ourselves on those who controlled our lives.
> > For those few precious hours we felt free to discuss our pains and our
> > joys, our personal hang-ups and weaknesses; for that suspended time we
> > abdicated our responsibilities to our parents, relatives and friends,
> > and to the Islamic Republic. We articulated all that happened to us in
> > our own words and saw ourselves, for once, in our own image."
> >
> > So the novels had extra-literary as well as literary purposes for these
> > readers, offering "an escape from reality in the sense that we could
> > marvel at their beauty and perfection, and leave aside our stories about
> > the deans and the university and the morality squads in the streets."
> > This is, in effect, a redefinition of "escape reading" that could be
> > weighed with care by Americans, for it has far less to do with the term
> > as we commonly think of it -- an escape into another world -- than with
> > escape from a real world that is difficult at best, unbearable at worst.
> > The reading done by these women also should serve as a reminder that
> > Western culture generally, American culture specifically, is far more
> > widely admired and treasured in many Muslim countries than its critics
> > there would have us (and their fellow citizens) believe.
> >
> > Thus there are interesting and revealing digressions in "Reading Lolita
> > in Tehran" about Western films and the great lengths to which many
> > Iranians would go (and presumably still will) to watch them. One day
> > Nafisi's house was invaded by two young men from the Revolutionary
> > Guards. They were concerned about goings-on at the house next door, but
> > "we, like all normal Iranians, were guilty and had something to hide: We
> > were worried about our satellite dish." In 1996, Nafisi says, "David
> > Hasselhoff, the star of 'Baywatch,' bragged that his show was the most
> > popular show in Iran."
> >
> > Nafisi's strong feelings about America and American culture appear to
> > have taken root during the 1970s, when she was in college in this
> > country. She returned in 1997 and is a professor at the Johns Hopkins
> > University's School for Advanced International Studies here in
> > Washington. She is grateful to the Islamic Republic, she says, because
> > it taught her "to love Austen and James and ice cream and freedom."
> >
> > The book she has written about this journey is satisfying in many
> > respects, frustrating in others. Almost everything discussed in this
> > review is to be found in the first 80 pages. Most of the rest of the
> > book is concerned with her life before 1995. Because she is intelligent
> > and thoughtful and writes well, this is frequently interesting, but for
> > long stretches the reading class almost completely vanishes. Because
> > this is the real heart of her story, the reader feels its absence
> > keenly.
> >
> >
> >
> >
> > The Washington Post
> >
> >
> > http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A1581-2003Apr9.html
> >
> >
> >
>
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------
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