after the chapter about praying for people not to die. So all the time he was moping in bed and refusing to get up and eat and talk to anyone, I was muttering unkind things about him under my breath. He had children! And left him! And was unkind to his little son! I do not condone the breaking of his tar, but mercy, I can see how his wife was driven to it. This may have been the intended effect, but it took away from my enjoyment of the book. The bad (for me): I wanted to slap Nasser Ali. The shading difference provided a great visual reminder of how much their relationship has changed since they were first in love. I love how she used black backgrounds for the flashback sequences, many of which depicted the early relationship of Nasser Ali and his wife. Despite how much I don’t care for Nasser Ali, the story is still emotionally effective. She writes with wry humor that spares no one, and interweaves the story of Nasser Ali with the history of Iran. Chicken with Plums follows him through those eight days, through visits and memories and dreams and hallucinations. He lies down on his bed and stays there for eight days, upon which he dies. He tries and tries to find another tar that will be the equal of the one that was destroyed, but even the best of tars will not make the music he imagines. In Chicken with Plums, Marjane Satrapi writes about tar musician Nasser Ali, a great-uncle of hers who decides to die after his wife destroys his tar in a heated argument.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |