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July 2013

Iran's Postrevolution Generation

Image: Abbas Kiarostami, Abbas Kiarostami, "Close-Up," 1990. Pictured: Hossein Sabzian. Courtesy of the Criterion Collection

We continue our tenth anniversary celebration with a return to the topic of our inaugural issue: Iran. Ten years later, writers still struggle with arbitrary censorship, the weight of war, and the limited scope of a closed society; yet the new generation of writers defies these restrictions to present acute portraits of contemporary Iran. The issue includes fiction by Hossein Mortezaeian Abkenar, Payam Feili, Behnaz Alipour Gaskari, Noori Ijadi, Alireza Mahmoudi Iranmehr, Neda Kavoosifar, Paxima Mojavezi, Yasser Norouzi, and Yaghoub Yadali. We thank our guest editors: Shahriar Mandanipour, who contributes a passionate introduction, and Sara Khalili, whose elegant translations bring these authors to us. Our special section showcases writing by and about translators, with two slyly subversive stories from Claude Bleton and Jacques Gélat, an essay by Suzanne Jill Levine, and an interview by David Auerbach with Esther Allen and Susan Bernofsky about their new anthology, In Translation.

The Poet, His Cut-Off Head in His Hand, Went Singing Songs and Ghazals: Literature in Iran

Iran’s literature has survived, and its survival has a secret.

Like a Body Turned Inside Out

Borzu Alvandi will always wonder why he wasn’t martyred.


bilingual

Green Sour Orange

With his eyes bulging, Mr. Moadab murmurs, “It’s like silk . . .”


bilingual

Rahman’s Story

I lost two people, I’ll take two people . . . with this very bayonet.


bilingual

Forty-Eight Steps

He sets off, a few steps ahead of me. I follow him.


bilingual

The Pink Cloud

I was looking at the sky when suddenly a shower of bullets pierced my chest.


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from “I Will Grow, I Will Bear Fruit . . . Figs”

I leave and return with a large piece of sky.

Someone is Calling “Leili”

By the way, how old am I? I can’t remember.


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Bastard

You want me to grant your wish, you must satisfy my need.


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Escape

She was now sitting half-naked in front of the door.


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