I haven’t read any books in full in a very long time. It sounds silly to say but It’s because I thought It would be a waste of time or that I simply wouldn’t have time. This is mostly because of what happens when I connect with a book. When I find a book that I love or that sparks some emotion in me, it’s hard to put it down. It’s like I have this electrical connection that gives me a shock every once in a while until I pick it up again. I thought, what if I find a book I love and it stops me from getting my very long to do list done? Before, I thought that was a scary thought. After reading the Stationery Shop, I see the errors of my ways. I needed a break and a book to read!

My lovely friend Taniya suggested this book to me long ago and I had ordered it but it sat collecting dust on my shelf. Every night when I went to sleep, the beautiful gold foiled cover stared back at me asking why I had waited so long. The name Marjan Kamali, a fellow Iranian was begging me to open and read her words.

I usually wake up around 615-630 and it takes me a few minutes to fully wake up and start working. At the start of this week I told myself: you will spend the first 15 minutes of your day reading. It was the only way, the only way to start and the only way to make it stick to read all the books that have staring back at me begging me to open their spines.

I began on Monday and after 15 minutes, I extended it a little more putting off my work and workout. I was completely enthralled by the words. I thought to myself, dammit, It’s happening. But I paced myself and read the whole book in one week, a little bit each and every day. Although if I had nothing else to do I could have consumed this book in one day.

My parents are both from Iran, I’ve been regaled by stories my whole life but due to many complicated reasons, many of them political I have never been able to go. So I grew up in the US being too foreign for Americans and being too American for Iranians. Even still, the words of Marjan hit me deep. She invoked these emotions in me that swirled in my body with every word I read. Exhilarating but also calm and comfortable on my couch. The mannerisms, the food, the clash of Persian culture with that of Americans. I can relate to both sides, the things I do that are very American and the things I do that are more Iranian that I was raised to do. When badri uses toh instead of shomah, the tarof, the customs of Iran that I know from my upbringing. The way she describes cooking khoresh for Walter brought tears to my eyes. I so rarely read things like this that I know, that I was taught, that I can relate to. It felt like my mother had sat down to tell me a story of her young love in Iran. In fact my mother has told me such stories before but I won’t divulge her secrets.

Small things reminded me of stories from my parents, the moaning of the man selling beets. Laboo maboo, my dad told me they would yell. The scenes from the streets of Tehran. While my parents never told me about a stationery shop, I could envision it so well as if I had been in Tehran. It was easy for me to form the characters in my head, never had it been so easy for me when I’ve read other books.

I didn’t just enjoy this book because of the way it made me feel, but the story. The love, just as the way Rumi or Khayyam described it. The same way Roya and Bahman read the poetry together, they lived it. They lived Rumi’s words, how beautiful. They also lived his other words, his heartbreak. I couldn’t imagine how this story would have gone but what a story. I try to explain it to others but I don’t think I can express the effect it had on me. Not only has my fire for reading been ignited once more but my fire for love, for poetry, for the romance of small gestures and everyday things.

Thank you to Taniya for kindly suggesting it to me and Marjan for writing these beautiful words.