A split watermelon. Ripe and bursting, its seeds spilling out
of its flesh. Women singing, talking, sifting rice. A wedding has
passed, another is coming. This is the scene that greets us at
the opening of Persian Brides. The rest of the novel is full of
similar visions, always of women and always of their pasts, their
sexuality and the limits imposed on them by society. We follow
the fortunes of Nazie, a Jewish child of eleven who wants to
marry soon and become a kuchik madar, a little mother. Then,
there are the village characters: Mamou the Whore, who was
impregnated by the king of the village demons, the regal
matriarch Miriam Hanoum, heavy and stolid Homa, the wolfish
Moussa – Nazie’s betrothed. Each is vividly described
and contributes colour to the nebulous fabric that Rabinyan
weaves. The story may seem vacuous because of its clear lack of
progression, but then, maybe that’s the point of it. The
meandering style Rabinyan uses suggests neither a beginning nor a
conclusion to the narrative of these women’s lives. We have
three densely described segments in the book: the first,
‘The Night of the Watermelon’ outlines Nazie’s
desire to become a grown woman and Flora’s pain at being
abandoned, the second focuses on Nazie’s unfortunate birth
and the third describes the journeys both women undertake to be
united with their spouses. The plot suggests a scheme of
development but Rabinyan’s characterization is such that we
have no resolution to hold on to, not just at the end, but at any
point in the novel. Her richly concocted brew of imagery and superstitions, her
language of azizams and mashallahs; the focus on representation
rather than analysis, then, is all part of an effort to ring true
to a rural and normally unrepresented voice. It is an attempt to
faithfully represent the Jewish-Persian voice Yet, I find that
the very ‘Chagallesque’ quality of Rabinyan’s
writing detracts from engagement with her characters at a
profounder level. Even if we were to read Persian Bridessolely
for the delightful escape it offers from the asphalt tint of
urban Western life, it is a rather predictable escape. Rabinyan presents us with a world in which Persian odalisques
lie wistfully, like tantalising fruit, where a certain lyricism
pervades the air. Though enchanting, it is nothing new. The world
Rabinyan creates for us is foreign not because of the strangeness
of its customs but because her characters act as if they were
forever on display, never allowing us to sympathise with them. So
while Persian Brides is an intoxicating brew, it is one that
leaves you with no hangover to remember it by. Neither does it
create any fantastic hallucinations.ARCHIVE: 4th week TT 2004
Village PErson: Singing Persian Brides
