book info: on sale: now copy from: public library pages: 348 review written: 21.12.17 originally published: 2009 edition read: Penguin NAL 2009 title: Rooftops of Tehran author: Mahbod Seraji In a middle-class neighborhood of Iran's sprawling capital city, 17-year-old Pasha Shahed spends the summer of 1973 on his rooftop with his best friend Ahmed, joking around one minute and asking burning questions about life the next. He also hides a secret love for his beautiful neighbor Zari, who has been betrothed since birth to another man. But the bliss of Pasha and Zari's stolen time together is shattered when Pasha unwittingly acts as a beacon for the Shah's secret police. The violent consequences awaken him to the reality of living under a powerful despot, and lead Zari to make a shocking choice... my thoughts: This book was first published in 2009 and I remember adding it to my list around that time but never actually reading it since I preferred checking out library books to ...
For those you follow my sister blog, Voyage, you'll know that I'm participating in NaNoWriMo this year! (username: Kirthi06) So that means I'll be packed all month, which means little to no reading :(
A bit of an update on my literature life. I finished The Alchemist (Paulo Coelho) unit and I'm sorry to say that...it lost it's magic. I still love it but doing that study guide really killed it >_<
I'm reading Oedipus in class (The King, Rex, etc..) and I am pleased to say that I have been cast Oedipus every day we've read it in class. I think I've surprised people with the fervour in which I read my role. Oedipus is a very tragic, emotionally distraught character and many times, I found myself choking up and wailing. I feel like I have absorbed him as a character and afterwards, I find myself with thoughts like "I can't believe...oh god, slept with my mother...had kids with her! That's so sick!" and then thinking "Wait a minute. I'm a sixteen year old girl. I have no beard. I'm not Oedipus"
I pronounce it incorrectly: "Oh (like in owe)-dipus", and I remember thinking it was "Ode-ipus". Yet I learned that it is actually "Ehd-ipus". My teacher and friends keep correcting me in exasperation. :)
Also, our next parallel reading is Tao of Pooh. I can genuinely say this is the worst year of Lit class I have ever experienced. Winnie the Pooh is my most favourite childhood book/video-cassette series in the world. He is the kindest bear, and he has the most lovely group of friends in the Hundred Acre Woods and I don't want to know that "The author didn't intend for this to be a children's book. It was actually meant to explain Tao and Buddhist beliefs" I love Buddhism, since it ties in a lot with Hinduism, but I don't want yet another book to destroy something I love, this time something I treasure more dearly than any character ever, even Arthur the Aardvark. ~sob~ I remember going to bed with my mum beside me or dad and I'd ask for bedtime stories.
My Dad, knowing how much I loved Winnie the Pooh, would attempt to make up stories involving them. But being a serious fan, I found faults in them right away, and kept asking questions and correcting him even. So eventually it became ME telling stories to THEM and then going to sleep afterwards. I remember saying, "ONCE upon a TIME in the HUNDRED acre woods etc..." and I'd base the story after the events of the day.
So if I had a bad day and my parents wouldn't buy me a stuffed animal or something, that night Pooh bear would "ask Christopher Robin for a toy for him to play with. But Christopher Robin said he wouldn't, so Pooh bear went back home in his tree and desperately wished for one" and then after, I'd offer a solution that I hoped my parent's would take as a hint. Like "all the creatures of the Hundred Acre Woods felt bad for Pooh bear and decided to come together and make him a toy. Kanga and Roo brought over spare scraps of cloth, Owl brought some of his old feathers, Rabbit brought needles and string, and they all made him a stuffed animal. Pooh bear loved it very much"
Winnie the Pooh is such an integral part of my childhood and I'm dreading, terrified, that my teacher will ruin yet another story I love.
A bit of an update on my literature life. I finished The Alchemist (Paulo Coelho) unit and I'm sorry to say that...it lost it's magic. I still love it but doing that study guide really killed it >_<
I'm reading Oedipus in class (The King, Rex, etc..) and I am pleased to say that I have been cast Oedipus every day we've read it in class. I think I've surprised people with the fervour in which I read my role. Oedipus is a very tragic, emotionally distraught character and many times, I found myself choking up and wailing. I feel like I have absorbed him as a character and afterwards, I find myself with thoughts like "I can't believe...oh god, slept with my mother...had kids with her! That's so sick!" and then thinking "Wait a minute. I'm a sixteen year old girl. I have no beard. I'm not Oedipus"
I pronounce it incorrectly: "Oh (like in owe)-dipus", and I remember thinking it was "Ode-ipus". Yet I learned that it is actually "Ehd-ipus". My teacher and friends keep correcting me in exasperation. :)
Also, our next parallel reading is Tao of Pooh. I can genuinely say this is the worst year of Lit class I have ever experienced. Winnie the Pooh is my most favourite childhood book/video-cassette series in the world. He is the kindest bear, and he has the most lovely group of friends in the Hundred Acre Woods and I don't want to know that "The author didn't intend for this to be a children's book. It was actually meant to explain Tao and Buddhist beliefs" I love Buddhism, since it ties in a lot with Hinduism, but I don't want yet another book to destroy something I love, this time something I treasure more dearly than any character ever, even Arthur the Aardvark. ~sob~ I remember going to bed with my mum beside me or dad and I'd ask for bedtime stories.
My Dad, knowing how much I loved Winnie the Pooh, would attempt to make up stories involving them. But being a serious fan, I found faults in them right away, and kept asking questions and correcting him even. So eventually it became ME telling stories to THEM and then going to sleep afterwards. I remember saying, "ONCE upon a TIME in the HUNDRED acre woods etc..." and I'd base the story after the events of the day.
So if I had a bad day and my parents wouldn't buy me a stuffed animal or something, that night Pooh bear would "ask Christopher Robin for a toy for him to play with. But Christopher Robin said he wouldn't, so Pooh bear went back home in his tree and desperately wished for one" and then after, I'd offer a solution that I hoped my parent's would take as a hint. Like "all the creatures of the Hundred Acre Woods felt bad for Pooh bear and decided to come together and make him a toy. Kanga and Roo brought over spare scraps of cloth, Owl brought some of his old feathers, Rabbit brought needles and string, and they all made him a stuffed animal. Pooh bear loved it very much"
Winnie the Pooh is such an integral part of my childhood and I'm dreading, terrified, that my teacher will ruin yet another story I love.
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