Disoriental in 100BestWIT

Oct 03, 2020 Paul rated it it was amazing · review of another edition

Shelves: french-novels, iran, reading-women-bingo-2020

Where to start? Well I really enjoyed this and there is a great deal to it. It is narrated by Kimia Sadr who escapes from Iran to the West when she is 10 in 1979 with her mother and sisters (her father having left some months earlier). Her father was an academic who had managed to anger both the Shah’s secret police and then Khomeni’s regime in fairly equal measure. It is not a linear story and it jumps around: as the narrator says:
“Talking about the present means I have to go deep into the pas Where to start? Well I really enjoyed this and there is a great deal to it. It is narrated by Kimia Sadr who escapes from Iran to the West when she is 10 in 1979 with her mother and sisters (her father having left some months earlier). Her father was an academic who had managed to anger both the Shah’s secret police and then Khomeni’s regime in fairly equal measure. It is not a linear story and it jumps around: as the narrator says:
“Talking about the present means I have to go deep into the past, to cross borders and scale mountains and go back to that lake so enormous they call it a sea. I have to let myself be guided by the flow of images and free associations, the natural fits and starts, the hollows and bumps carved into my memories by time.”
There isn’t a smooth logical progress, so some concentration is required by the reader. It is beautifully written and easy to read (it’s a good translation in my opinion). There are multiple themes running through it: obviously immigration and exile, political dissent, but also motherhood and sexuality, even fertility. The novel won the Lambda literary award for bisexual fiction in 2019. It is also a family history going back to the early twentieth century. Kimia’s father is one of six brothers. We are the audience, a silent witness:
“But you know as well as I do that, to claim to get inside a man’s head, first you need to really know him—to absorb all of the lives he has lived, and all of his struggles, and all of his ghosts. And believe me, If I start there […] I’ll never get around to telling you what I am about to tell you.”
The French title combines the words Oriental and desorienter (losing orientation or direction).
Djavadi manages human emotions skilfully and there is something of the Scheherazade about her, but the storytelling is not to please. She writes to define to express the meaning of her history and not to let it disappear:
“With the passage of time, the flesh of events decomposes, leaving only a skeleton of impressions on which to embroider. Undoubtedly there will come a day when even the impressions will only be a memory. And then there won’t be anything left to tell.”
There is a snapshot of Iranian history and culture and a dislocation with the move to France:
“In Paris, we didn’t talk to each other anymore, about anything. None of us. Each of us was shut up in a silence mode of stupefaction and adjustment. In a state of unconsciousness. The past was just anecdotes now that could be retold, but were only a vast, white, ruined wasteland.”
There are parallel journeys going on with various characters but we follow Kimia through her childhood, adolescence and early adulthood from loving and obedient daughter to rebellious punk. The narration changes and amidst serious events and tragedies there is a vein of humour. The narration revolves around THE EVENT. This is something which occurs in the early 1990s and is pivotal in the family history. As well as a family saga, there is a little bit of love story, a coming of age and remembrance. It is a little Proustian as well.
This is creative and well written. It may have benefitted from being longer, or even a few volumes, but that’s probably me being greedy. Well worth reading. ...more

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Aug 31, 2021 Rachel rated it it was amazing

Shelves: women-in-translation, 2021, in-translation

Both a multigenerational family saga and an intensive primer on modern Iranian history, Disoriental is translated from the French with skill and humor by Tina Kover; the resulting novel is an absolute tour de force. We meet Kimiâ Sadr in the waiting room of a fertility clinic in Paris, and the pages that follow tell the story of her family’s history, unfolding in a nonlinear fashion and focusing largely on her father, journalist and radical activist Darius Sadr.

This is a complex book both in ter ...more

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Oct 23, 2018 Agnese rated it it was amazing · review of another edition

Shelves: fiction, translation, wit

Our memories select, eliminate, exaggerate, minimize, glorify, denigrate. They create their own versions of events and serve up their own reality. Disparate, but cohesive. Imperfect yet sincere. In any case, my memory is so crammed with stories and lies and languages and illusions, and lives marked by exile and death, death and exile, that I don’t even really know how to untangle the threads anymore.

What is, first and foremost, a fascinating semi-autobiographical novel about the history of o

Our memories select, eliminate, exaggerate, minimize, glorify, denigrate. They create their own versions of events and serve up their own reality. Disparate, but cohesive. Imperfect yet sincere. In any case, my memory is so crammed with stories and lies and languages and illusions, and lives marked by exile and death, death and exile, that I don’t even really know how to untangle the threads anymore.

What is, first and foremost, a fascinating semi-autobiographical novel about the history of one Iranian family over multiple generations, Négar Djavadi’s debut novel Disoriental, skilfully translated from the French by Tina Kover, becomes a reflection on some of the key events in 20th century Iranian history. On a more personal level, it’s a nuanced examination of the different facets that form the central character’s identity.

In the waiting room of a fertility clinic in Paris, the narrator, 25-year old Kamiâ Sadr, is thinking about her future that triggers the memories of some of the dramatic events from her own past, as well as the stories of her ancestors in Iran.

I carry within me the same kind of crazy feeling as the hero of Woody Allen’s The Purple Rose of Cairo, who breaks out of a black-and-white film into the real, full-color world, where he thinks it’s possible to forget the past. I’m always chasing after the present. But the present doesn’t exist. It’s only an intermission, a temporary respite, which might at any moment be swept away, destroyed, pulverized, by the escaped djinns of the past.

Beginning with the story of her great-grandfather, Montazemolmolk, who had fifty-two wives and twenty-eight children, Disoriental primarily focuses on the story of the family of Darius Sadr, an intellectual and dissident, who openly criticised the Shah regime and, following the 1979 Iranian Revolution, was also opposed to the policies of the Khomeini regime, and, as a result, was forced to flee Iran and go to exile in France. Later, at the age of 10, Kamiâ, accompanied by her mother and sisters, also fled Iran to join her father in France.

The book is a very engaging family saga that provides valuable insights into Iranian culture and history, as well as, on a more personal level, it shows how Kamiâ’s past experiences and upbringing has shaped her life and identity. She’s a very astute observer of the world and people around her. For example, one such interesting observation concerns the issue of integration into French society that gives us a sense of what it’s like to try to balance two cultures that are equally important parts of someone’s identity.

[…] to really integrate into a culture, I can tell you that you have to disintegrate first, at least partially, from your own. You have to separate, detach, disassociate. No one who demands that immigrants make “an effort at integration” would dare look them in the face and ask them to start by making the necessary “effort at disintegration.” They’re asking people to stand atop the mountain without climbing up it first.

The narrative shifts back and forth between different periods in Kamiâ’s life and is intertwined with significant incidents in her family’s history that have had a lasting effect on their lives over multiple generations. I loved how the author managed to explain the political and cultural aspects without disrupting the flow of the narrative. It’s not a very long novel, but, in the end, I felt that it took me on an epic journey that educated, entertained, and moved me, and I would love to see this book turned into a film. It was a pleasure to listen to such a great storyteller as Kamiâ, and I think the book deserves even more recognition than it has already received. I’m certainly hoping to see Disoriental among the nominees of the 2019 Man Booker International prize. ...more

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Oct 15, 2018 Michael rated it it was amazing

Shelves: 2016, lgbt, translated-fiction, nbatl18, btba19

Normally I am not a fan of multi-generational stories but there is always an exception to the rule and Disoriental is just that. My major problem is that there is never enough time spent with the characters. In this novel we follow Kimiâ Sadr who fled Iran with her mother and sisters at the age of ten. They join their father in France in the hopes for a better life. Now fifteen years later Kimiâ is overwhelmed with the memories of her ancestors.

What I loved about this novel is the way Négar Djav Normally I am not a fan of multi-generational stories but there is always an exception to the rule and Disoriental is just that. My major problem is that there is never enough time spent with the characters. In this novel we follow Kimiâ Sadr who fled Iran with her mother and sisters at the age of ten. They join their father in France in the hopes for a better life. Now fifteen years later Kimiâ is overwhelmed with the memories of her ancestors.

What I loved about this novel is the way Négar Djavadi focuses specifically on one person but uses her as the foundation to look at the ancestry of her family. The constant waves of memories and stories are the driving force of Disoriental which allows the reader to explore the cultural history of Iran. From her great-grandfather Montazemolmolk, who had a harem of fifty-two wives, to Kimiâ, a queer woman sitting in a Parisian fertility clinic.

The inner flap refers to this novel as a kaleidoscopic story and I cannot think of a better way to describe Disoriental. We experience many key moments in Iranian history from the perspective of the Sadr family. We look at the cultural changes, the politics and the family throughout. The difference between Kimiâ and her great-grandfather are vastly different. A key element I found fascinating was the treatment of the LGBTQI community. A place where losing your virginity before marriage, having an affair, or abortion, or even a drug addiction is better than being a homosexual. I was surprised to learn that sex changes are legal in Iran, it is better to change your entire gender identity than be same sex attracted.

This whole history makes up the struggle for Kimiâ in the fertility clinic. She is torn between family traditions and her own ‘disorientalisation’ as a modern woman. While this might sound like a bleak novel and in many ways it really is, Négar Djavadi offers so much tenderness to the whole experience as well. We look at the history, we see the family dramas but we also see the triumphs as well. Living in Paris where Kimiâ has more freedom than she may have had in an alternate life. There is so much more to explore within Disoriental but for me this was a novel of identity. Her family’s past defines Kimiâ Sadr as much as her own identity.

I found so much tenderness within such an important book. It was the little moments in their lives that really helped along the way. For example at the beginning of the novel Kimiâ’s father Dirius never took the elevator. He say they were for ‘them’ and by ‘them’ he meant the citizens of France. In this little anecdote we see so much about the attitude he had as an immigrant. Without going into the bleak backstory we know Dirius Sadr sees himself as a second-class citizen not wanting to do anything that might offend the people around him. This small tale says so much without going into specifics. It is this kind of storytelling that allows Négar Djavadi to write about so much about the world without adding to the bleakness.

I am very impressed with Disoriental. I love a novel that can explore important subjects and deal with the current start of the world without making the whole reading experience feel like a chore. I assume that this novel is semi-biographical but I am only speculating. Négar Djavadi has done an amazing job and it is important to have novels like Disoriental in the world. Tina Kover did a wonderful job translating this book which allows me to understand a little more about the world I live in. I highly recommend Disoriental, and it is my pick to win the National Book Award for Translated Literature in 2018.

This review originally appeared on my blog; http://www.knowledgelost.org/book-rev... ...more

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Jan 04, 2020 Alan (The Lone Librarian) Teder rated it it was amazing

Shelves: 100-best-women-in-translation, women-in-translation, 2020-reading-challenge, translated-from-french

Epic Family Saga
Review of the Europa Editions paperback (2018) English translation of the French original Désorientale (2016)

Disoriental was the January 2020 Group Read at the Goodreads Best 100 Women in Translation Group ...more

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Oct 07, 2020 Lauren rated it really liked it · review of another edition

Shelves: favorites

It’s rare to find a book whose title sums it up so perfectly, and perhaps rarer still that the exceptionality of this title was preserved in the process of translating it from French to English. The title “Disoriental” can be interpreted in a myriad of ways, yet it would be difficult to find a meaning that doesn’t apply.

In her struggle to come to terms with her own identity as the daughter of political refugees displaced from Iran, the narrator Kimiâ explores how the pivotal action of fleeing h It’s rare to find a book whose title sums it up so perfectly, and perhaps rarer still that the exceptionality of this title was preserved in the process of translating it from French to English. The title “Disoriental” can be interpreted in a myriad of ways, yet it would be difficult to find a meaning that doesn’t apply.

In her struggle to come to terms with her own identity as the daughter of political refugees displaced from Iran, the narrator Kimiâ explores how the pivotal action of fleeing her birth-country re-oriented her understanding of herself. While the title certainly applies to Kimiâ’s disorientation and feelings of exile as an immigrant, it could also be interpreted as Kimiâ’s misunderstood sexual orientation, her complicated relationship with her family, or even her geographic locale (in a particularly memorable scene, a 10-year old Kimiâ finds herself in Turkey in transit from the “Orient” to the west, leaving behind all that she knew for a new beginning.) “Disoriental” could even arguably be used to describe author Négar Djavadi’s writing style, an unarmingly casual voice that jumps from present to past based on tangential ideas or whim.

While the story is told in a disjointed manner, doing so creates a richer reward. Kimiâ relishes in hinting at future events and describing in snippets her lonely present-day wait at a fertility clinic, only to take you back in history to learn about her complicated family tree. While this can at times feel circuitous, it not only weaves the rich multi-generational fabric that is critical to Kimiâ’s character development but also drives the story forward, begging for explanations as to Kimiâ’s current circumstances. Djavadi is masterful in her creation of this puzzled together story, ensuring that no idea is superfluous and that they instead create an ever-complicated system of shadows, pointing toward the novel’s end.

Reading Disoriental feels like listening to an intimate friend divulge what’s on their mind. And like a friend, the book is replete with footnotes providing both asides for comedic effect as well as to explain the nitty gritty of the book’s historical basis. As Kimiâ puts it, the footnotes save you from an independent Wikipedia search, but they also feel akin to hearing that friend “dish the dirt,” telling both anecdotes and historical facts about the Iranian revolution that have been largely lost to “Western” history. Perhaps equally important, the footnotes allow Kimiâ to reclaim her narrative, telling her story as a means of simultaneously uncovering her own identity.

The book is equal parts family drama and sweeping historical saga, a vibrant exploration of how exile can be more complicated and more personal than simply leaving one’s homeland. Disoriental reminds us that exile can be felt from one’s culture, from one’s family, or even from one’s self. Kimiâ’s message is hopeful, though, reminding us that exile, while painful, is often for one’s own protection. In this time of self exile and social distancing, Disoriental seems all the more timely: a reminder that family memories, love, and self-acceptance can transcend all else. ...more

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Dec 05, 2020 K rated it it was amazing · review of another edition

Shelves: iran, lgbt-reads

This title has won more than nine awards (last I checked), and consistently is in the top ten for translated lit of the year (for example, at the National Book Foundation award ceremony and at the International Dublin Literary Award ceremony for 2020). I read it based on the recommendation of Sophie Baggot, who was reading her way around the world (reading only books written by women). She said it was the best book she read in 2019 amongst all those women-authored reads. If that wasn't enough en ...more

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