On Summer Reading: All the Shah's Men

For some time, I have had an interest in the nation of Iran. It started my freshman year during an exercise for my playwriting class. I came a cross an article describing a student protest at the University of Tehran (Tehran is Iran's capital city) Based on the exceedingly brief description in the two paragraph long article, it sounded similar to the protests of America's not too distant past. I decided to start researching the protest and the forthcoming events. The BBC was my best ally in this endeavour. The more I read about Iran, the more I wanted to know. It just so happened that a year later I had to read "Persepolis" for a class. It is a graphic novel about a girl growing up in Tehran during the volatile years surrounding the Islamic Revolution that established the current regime in 1979. This got me to start researching further back into Iran's history. The latest step in my research was the book All the Shah's Men by Stephen Kinzer.

This book describes the events of the 1953 coup of Iran's first democratic government. The prime minister Mohammed Mossadegh was removed from power and sentenced to a life of house arrest while the Shah (Iranian king) who had previously been little more than a figurehead became essentially a dictator. It was he who would later be ousted in the 1979 revolution.

What Kinzer details is the involvement of British and American agents in the coup. Until Mossadegh became prime minister, the vast resources and profits of Iran's oil fields were controlled by the vast Anglo-Iranian Oil, a British company. However, Mossadegh was the primary force of Iranian nationalism, and his chief goal once he reached power was to nationalize Iran's oil industry that that great economic benefit might be in the hands of the Iranian people to whom the land and the labour belonged.

Of course, this did not sit well with Anglo-Iranian nor with the British government for whom the company generated enormous income. Britain began working as hard they could to subvert Mossadegh and restore their interests in Iran. Britain, led by Prime Minister Winston Churchill, sought support from America, but President Truman saw what a central role Iran held in Middle East relations and sought a more diplomatic solution with Iran. So, the British waited until Truman's term ended and Republican Dwight Eisenhower took office. Eisenhower took a sort of "Don't ask, don't tell" approach and let the CIA do what they thought best, which happened to be staging a coup to destroy a democratic government and replace it with a monarchy. Propoganda was printed, people were bribed, leaders chosen, and the government fell just as planned.

This book was incredibly eye-opening for me when it comes to America's relationship with Iran. Is it any wonder they don't like us? Not only did their oil industry fall back under the influence of foreign powers and their government revert to a monarchy, but the events of that coup created the circumstances leading to the Islamic Revolution which has stifled Iran under religious fundamentalism. The book was recently published in a new edition because of the how tense the current current relations with Iran are. There have already been people suggesting the promotion of a coup similar to the on of 1953 to remove the Islamic regime. While I agree that the current government in Iran is a bad thing, I think it could be even worse to tamper so casually and haphazardly in a culture we don't fully understand, especially when the consequences were so awful last time.

On Vanity

Over the course of my short life, I have developed certain quirks. Being pretty self-aware and comfortable with myself, I have never sought to eradicate these quirks. Quite to the contrary, in fact. I have embraced them, developed others. I enjoy my non-conformity and simple pleasures. As time has passed, these little eccentricities have become points of pride.

The thing is, even a healthy pride can easily become unhealthy. C. S. Lewis calls pride "The Great Sin" for a reason.

I started thinking about this recently after a conversation with my friend Kate. We were skyping, and she commented on my hair, which at that point had not been cut in about three months. I like my hair shaggy, so I took the comment on its length as something of a compliment. However, she then mentioned how it looked a bit unkempt and asked if I brush or comb it.

Kate has a knack for consciously or unconsciously driving right to the heart of a lot of my issues.

I have never been a person who goes to a lot of effort in personal appearance. That is not to say that I am a slovenly individual or anything like that, but I just don't care enough to get stylish clothes, and I have never styled my hair or used any sort of product in it other than shampoo and conditioner (excluding theatre of course, where a number of strange things have been done to my hair). I like keeping my hair more natural. It is healthier, and I am content with it's appearance. I don't need to use a comb because even when it gets to a shaggier length, it doesn't really get knots, and it usually falls the way I like it all on its on. I pride myself on this, and at times it has given me pleasure to brag that no comb or brush has touched my head in three months. I thought myself humble, a better person than others perhaps, just because I don't expend a lot of effort on my hair.

During our conversation, Kate eventually compelled me to brush my hair in front of her. It surprised me how much I chafed against such a simple thing, especially considering the fact that brushing hair is healthy for it, even more so when it gets longer, as mine was becoming.

I realized then that my abstinence from the culture's fixation on hair treatment had itself become a kind of vanity--an unhealthy obsession. As a friend of mine put it recently: "I strive so horribly much to be abnormal and by doing so I become normal." Funny how that happens.

I am brushing my hair more regularly now. I got it trimmed, so it still doesn't need to be combed, but I am working on making my attitude toward that one of a simple fact of life rather than one of vain pride. And I am examining other areas in my life so that I can eradicate any pride that may have likewise crept in.

On Shame

"when it is said, 'Let's go, let's do it,' we are ashamed not to be shameless."

--Saint Augustine, The Confessions

This is one of the most insightful statements I have come across in a long time. Augustine wrote those words over 1500 years ago, and they are still incredibly relevant. In fact, they seem to perfectly encapsulate the modern age. For all of our talk of individualism, Western culture is still obsessed with fitting in. People wear clothes they don't necessarily like, they listen to music they don't necessarily like, they say words they don't necessarily mean; and it is all for the sake of fitting in. Even nonconformity itself is often a kind of conformity to the ideal of nonconformity. Just look at the hipster revolution. The internet gave us all the ability to strike out from our culture while still finding people all over the world to whom we can conform.

I don't want to portray this as an absolutely negative thing. People are contagious. It is in our nature. And we get more of our identity and definition from others than we are often willing to admit. Where I think it becomes a problem is in the sort of case to which Augustine refers: when "we are ashamed not to be shameless." There are two ways to be shameless. Augustine is talking about an abandonment of certain morals, so that a wrong can be excused or disregarded. This sort of shamelessness has become almost an ideal in our culture to the point where getting hung up on morality, even thinking something could be wrong is more shameful than even doing something. Enter peer pressure. According to Augustine, it Has existed since the fourth century A.D., and I bet it existed before that. If no one else is ashamed, then we don't want to be either.

"Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is--his good, pleasing, and perfect will."

--Romans 12:2

Fortunately, there is another kind of shamelessness. Paul says elsewhere in Romans "As the Scripture says, 'Anyone who trusts in him will never be put to shame.'" Trusting in Christ, in his mercy and grace, leaves us nothing of which to be ashamed. We do not need to abandon morality to escape the shame of our actions because, by the grace of God, we are forgiven, and shame has no power over us. The passage to which that verse refers is in Isaiah 28, and it is followed by words to those who have abandoned God: "I will make justice the measuring line and righteousness the plumb line; hail will sweep away your refuge, the lie, and water will overflow your hiding place." Abandoning morals will not change what good is because God is good, and good is God, and God is absolute.

"Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord's glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit."

--1 Corinthians 3:17-18

On Summer Reading: The Mercy Seat

Neil LaBute has, for a some time now, been my favourite contemporary playwright. I have not read him exhaustively, by any means, but what I have read, I have always liked. That may perhaps be because I have a similar approach to subject matter with treatment of a theme from different sides displayed through dialogue and action. That is, at least, what I try to do. LaBute generally succeeds. The Mercy Seat is his exploration of new beginnings...of a sort.

The main plot involves a couple in an apartment the day after the World Trade Center towers have been destroyed. There is a ringing phone. I have to imagine a lot of this, of course, because it is a play and meant to be seen, not read, but the image is incredibly chilling in my mind. Abby and Ben are deliberating over what to do in the wake of the attacks. It is revealed that the two of them are co-workers (actually Abby is Ben's superior) having an affair behind the back of Ben's wife. Ben's work takes him to the World Trade Center, and he was to have been in it when the towers fell; however, a spontaneous rendezvous with Abby saved his life.

The ringing phone is presumably Ben's family hoping to find that he is alive. Ben is trying to decide whether to contact them or to let them think he is dead so he and Abby can run away together. Abby berates him for his insensitivity and his indecisiveness together. They argue throughout the play in fact, leading one to wonder why these two would ever want to actually live together anyway. Still, there are tender moments as well. LaBute is a master at capturing the nuances of conversation and relationship.

I dare not give away the final twist of the play, but it took me by surprise. I pride myself on being able to follow the the logic of a plot and predict events, but the turn of this story completely defied all my expectations. It was a brilliant move, and it gives the conclusion a brutal resonance. I had some contradictory feelings when I closed the book. There were both disappointment disgust for the characters. There was a feeling that events should not have happened as they did, that they didn't have to, that the characters could have taken a course other than the one they chose, but it also left a strange satisfaction. It was the right ending, perhaps the true ending.

On a Photographer

Check out this incredible photography. I have been working my way through his photos for a few days and there is some incredible stuff in there, and I really just feel like sharing it.

Someday, I really ought to get an account on some sort of photo sharing network. I need a repository and a vessel for some of my steadily accumulating photography.

On Summer Reading: The Historian

I cannot really say that I was disappointed in Elizabeth Kostava's The Historian, but neither can I say that it surpassed my expectations. The fact of the matter is that I knew nothing about the book prior to opening it and had no expectations for the experience, and consequently I read a book I would not have otherwise even considered picking up. The book was a gift from a friend, and what she didn't tell me when she gave it was that it was, in fact, a vampire novel. I could have inferred this from the summary on the jacket had I only known that Vlad the Impaler was actually the origin of the Dracula myth.

Let me go on a side note here to express my aversion for vampire stories. It is rooted in my general avoidance of fads. Some trends in culture are extremely illusory, and I don't see much point in getting crazed over something as temporal as a fad just because other people like it. Admittedly, there is something contagious about human passion that cannot always be fought. That is, after all, how fads happen, and it is perfectly normal. However, that is also how mobs form, so I don't think that it is a compelling enough reason in and of itself to go along with something. Perhaps it is because I am somewhat of a loner that I have never gotten to invested in fads. Perhaps I have a bit of an independent streak that I do not always readily acknowledge. Perhaps I have a wee bit of the indie/hipster bug. Who knows? Regardless of the origin of those feelings, the fact of the matter is that vampires are a fad right now, and something of a silly one. I apologize to all of the Twilight fans out there, but that series is the ultimate corruption of the vampire myth, and it is a prime example of how overuse can cheapen something once rich and potent. I have an even greater aversion to Twilight because it is a teen fad, but that is a whole different issue. I think my biggest beef with the series is the significant amount vampire themed media that has flooded the market since it was released, all of it pretty cheap and formulaic. Fortunately, this is one fad that finally looks to be passing. Now if only something could be done about Auto-Tune . . .

All that said, I was rather pleased to see a book like this using the popularity of vampire's to create a smart book. That is not to say that the story in this book is particularly original, that the narrative is complex, or that its themes are revolutionary. It is none of those things. Rather it is a book by a smart woman about smart people doing intellectual things. The story resembles some sort of cross of the narrative form of Wuthering Heights or The Woman in White crossed with the fact heavy and fast paced plot style that is the trademark of Dan Brown.

The central narrator of the story is a young girl who incidentally discovers that her father has a long, dark secret: a tale of mystery and intrigue and vampires, and one that he begins to tell her in broken fragmentary stories and, later, in letters. At times, he himself uses other people's letters and stories as well. These multiple levels of narration allow for the story to jump time and place, lending variety to keep the respective time lines interesting, especially as they are all drawn together.

However, as is often the case with young first-person narrators, this young narrator (who is never even named) is soon lost in the fabric of more interesting and better developed characters. So, when the past events have finally caught up with the novel's present, the reader has almost forgotten that she exists. This also makes the supposed climax a bit lack-lustre and rushed. It is almost as if Kostava forgot halfway through which character's story she had begun writing, and finished by writing a different character's.

Thus, the narrator is far from the heroine of the story. Rather, like Dickens' David Copperfield, she is more of an observer or reporter of other people's stories than her own. In this way, she could be considered the titular historian. However, both her father and mother, through her father's stories, are revealed to be quite adept historians themselves, and the central drama involves a pan-European search for another historian who has gone missing. Furthermore, the title could refer to Dracula himself, Vlad Tepes, a historical figure who is portrayed by Kostava as a great lover of books and of history.

In a lot of ways, this book's trappings appealed to me (once I got over the realization that it was about vampires). It is set mostly in Europe and the characters are academics, researchers, and they spend a lot of time in libraries. I began reading The Historian following the most rigourous academic semester of my life at the University of Oxford, so I could definitely relate to that aspect of the characters and of the story. I am also beginning to understand how much I like history (I mean, I may be applying for a doctorate program in history and culture; that's pretty new).

Unfortunately, some of those factors that made the story appeal to me also became detrimental. For, at one point in the story, the characters actually visit Oxford. I was excited at the prospect of reading about this (I am STILL very nostalgic for Oxford, after all, and it was even worse then), but I soon noticed some details that weren't quite right. The true disappointment, however, came when they entered the Radcliffe Camera, my favourite reading room at Oxford, and one in which I spent hours upon hours. I knew reading those passages that there is no way Elizabeth Kostava has ever entered the RadCam. The biggest give away was when she described the buzz of tourists in the lower level of the Camera. If she had ever been there, she would know that they do not let anyone but students of Oxford into the Camera. I promptly checked the "About the Author" information found that Kostava is actually a Yale graduate. Just as I expected. On reflection, I realized that most of the description of the city were very vague, more like something you would know from reading a travel guide than from actually visiting. I tried not to let these inaccuracies bother me for the duration of the cast's stay in Oxford, but it still managed to cast doubt on later details of the story. I mean, the entire story deals with historical details, and if Kostava can't even get a few basic points about Oxford right, why should I trust her information regarding obscure manuscripts? But perhaps I am being too hard on her. Why, after all, should I expect perfect realism from a vampire story?

All in all, though I would not say that Elizabeth Kostava's The Historian is in a must read, I enjoyed it. It helps that it was a return to the original Dracula, not just to Brom Stoker's character, but to the historical figure of the Impaler who inspired Stoker. Any academically-minded reader will appreciate the story's heavy emphasis on research and the frequency with which librarians turn out to be vampire's. However, one need not be an intellectual to appreciate the story. The plot has good pacing and is very engaging, and the basic themes are among the relevant as well as the timeless: things like the conflict between dark and light or the strife between Islam and Christianity. This is most definitely a treatment the Dracula myth deserves and I applaud Kostava's attempt to exploit a fad.