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Half the people on the Circle Line are reading the Evening Standard; a dozen are reading books and the rest are just staring into space. I try to spot someone looking at the others. No one. No one looks into the eyes of another. This stillness on the move is a constant feature of London when the working day comes...
(2009–2010) The people who had been disappointed with Khatami in his last two years as President and who had therefore refused to vote in the next election were now excited. Experiencing the four years of terror under Ahmadinejad had brought most people to their senses, especially the younger generation looking for quick results. One thing was clear: they had been...
(2005–2008) One of the most important stories in Iranian mythology is of Zahak or Azhidahak. Thousands of years ago, the earth was ruled by a wise king called Jamshid. He was appointed by Ahura Mazda, God of Goodness and Light, to make life better for the people. Jamshid expanded Iranian territory, invented chariots, created medicine, developed writing, architecture, social classes,...
(2000–2005) Paulo’s book was a huge hit. We sold 10,000 copies in the first two months and demand for it spiralled. Distributors came to us, begging to take on the title and bookstores called us incessantly to order more copies. My publishing career had finally taken off. In the first year, we published 10 titles and our marketing campaigns, unprecedented...
(1995–1999) The smell of formalin, the sleepless nights, the strain of supporting Maryam and myself, the ongoing persecution of our generation which never had a chance to enjoy life, see the world or spend time with friends without fear of arrests, was not all that defined my life in those years. Iranian society, too, was undergoing significant changes and upheavals....
(Summer 1988–1998) The summer of 1988 was the best summer of my life. The war was over and I was no longer afraid of falling bombs nor of being brainwashed to run through a field full of landmines. The Concours results had been declared and mine were good enough to secure me a seat at the prestigious Iran University of...
(Autumn 1980–Summer 1988) Autumn 1980 A dog runs to fetch his bone. Suddenly, he freezes. The screen goes blank, and then across it appear a few words in the largest possible typeface accompanied by the threatening voice of the narrator. ‘Dear citizens, the sound that you are about to hear is the Red Alarm, meaning that we are being attacked...
(Autumn 1978–Summer 1980) ‘Who is this Ayatollah Khomeini?’ I asked Madar, my paternal grandmother. I had heard his name over and over but I didn’t know who he was. Every night people went to the rooftops to see his face etched upon the full moon and I really wanted to know what he was doing there. ‘He is the vicar...
On the evening of 20 June 2009, at approximately, 7pm GMT a brief video-clip was posted on YouTube and Facebook. Within minutes it had been picked up and broadcast globally by virtually every news channel. A mere 47 seconds of film shook the world. It shows a young woman, shot in the chest and bleeding, fall to the ground. As...
On 20 June 2009, a brief video clip was circulated all over the world. It showed the death of a young, unarmed woman called Neda, who had been shot in the chest while taking part in a protest in Tehran and was bleeding to death on the street. Few images in the contemporary world have had such an instant and...
My name is Arash Hejazi, and I talk about publishing (whatever that means) and other stuff here. I work for John Wiley and Sons Inc.. Views are my own.
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