Persian Mirrors: The Elusive Face of Iran (59 page)

Open Society Institute provided me with a generous writing grant. I thank George Soros, Aryeh Neier, Gara LaMarche, Anthony Richter, Leigh Hallingby, and particularly Gail Goodman.

My friends were always there for me, even when I was at my most difficult.

I felt that I’d never get the book done. But I had my wonderful friend Robin Toner to tell me day after day, “You’ve never missed a deadline,” and “Play to your strengths.”

I felt cranky and irritable. But I had Carol Giacomo to get me to laugh, reminding me that no matter what, I had my health.

I felt that I didn’t have enough to say. But I had Johanna Neuman to tell me, “Stop reporting. You have enough to fill three books.”

I felt daunted by writing in a personal voice, saying, “I feel as if I’m a small landscape painter pretending to be Jackson Pollock.” But I had Joyce Seltzer to tell me, “Do you think that’s better than being a Pollock pretending to be a small landscape painter?”

I also had Jonathan Randal to tell me war stories and fill me with good cheer, as he has done since he first introduced me to Iranian politics in Paris twenty-two years ago. I had Tony Clifton, my
Newsweek
colleague during the Iranian revolution and the hostage crisis, as a constant friend with whom I could communicate in shorthand. I had Isadore Seltzer to share with me his artistic vision and his strategies for dealing with 4:00
A.M.
bursts of angst and energy. And I had Judi Brown to take me swimming and to Costco when she knew I needed a break.

There are two friends whom I must single out for special thanks. Farideh Farhi and I became friends in Iran almost as soon as we met—after recovering from a very heated public argument about the motives of American journalists working in Iran. While I was writing the book, Farideh and I were in contact daily, sometimes several times a day. She read every word of this manuscript—parts of it many times. She patiently filled in gaps, offered insights, corrected mistakes, and helped reorganize chapters. She pressed me to push on when I had no energy left. And she gave new meaning to the words of Eleanor Roosevelt: “Argue the other side with a friend until you have found the answer to every point which might be brought up against you.”

Marc Charney, a gifted
New York Times
editor and a wonderful friend, spent endless evenings and weekends reading the manuscript. Just as important as his creative instincts were his generosity, encouragement, and wonderful sense of humor. I cherish our long talks—about totalitarianism and Azerbaijan, jazz and poetry.

There are other friends and colleagues who read all or part of the manuscript and provided support. Haleh Esfandiari is never too busy for her friends, and she offered constant and deep friendship as well as sound editorial judgment, often well into the night. Her husband, Shaul Bakhash, shared information and guidance on Iran as he has for nearly twenty years. Jahangir Amuzegar patiently answered my endless questions. Wade Greene was crucial in getting the project off the ground. Robert Pear, as with my previous book on Iraq, offered encouragement and saved me from making several mistakes. Sarah Weissman, with her sharp eye and her determination, helped locate and choose photographs.

Others who gave freely of their time, expertise, and editorial and strategic advice along the way include Gary Sick, Houchang Chehabi, Jeff Gerth, Ahmad S. Moussalli, Tariq Fatemi, Michael Metrinko, Robert H. Pelletreau, John Limbert, Ken Simonson, Geoffrey Kemp, Judith Kipper, Steven C. Fairbanks, Suzanne Maloney, Julia Nanay, and Eliz Sanasarian.

I was blessed with a great editor. Paul Golob is smart, tough, and funny. He spouts poetry and baseball metaphors. He constantly urged me to write and write again, to tear up chapters and reorder the book—all in the name of excellence. He is a rarity in the book publishing industry: an editor who edits every line. Then, Rachel Klayman, who picked up the project after Paul left the Free Press, enthusiastically carried it to the finish line. And Gypsy da Silva, my copy editor at Simon & Schuster who lived in Iran long ago, corrected my transliterations as she got me giggling with her colorful Persian slang.

Andrew Wylie, my literary agent, gave me crucial advice at every point along the way, calling me Mother’s Day morning and Thanksgiving evening and sending me e-mails from far-flung places like a beach in St. John and a hotel room in Milan. At one crisis point, he ordered me to put my notebooks into a file cabinet and write from my gut.

I also enjoyed working with a number of people who helped with research. Chris Holbrook brought balance to the project; he’d work hard during the week and do a triathalon on the weekend. Sara Borodin brought enormous energy, intelligence, and good cheer. Kelci Gershon brought extraordinary research skills and common sense. Dokhi Fassihian shared her insights as a young Iranian-American who had lived in Iran. Naghmeh Sohrabi, Jeffrey Ross, and Vida Ghaffari cheerfully carried out impossible assignments. Monica Borkowski of
The New York Times
helped locate Web sites, sources, and documents. Alys Yablon of the Free Press helped resolve numerous editorial and technical issues. In addition, the Middle East Institute generously allowed me the use of its marvelous library.

I am not a technical person, but I enjoyed the support of
The New York Times’
s Washington bureau team of specialists. Ronald Skarzenski, Clifton Meadows, and Von Aulston went into action when a “worm” attacked my system and started eating my files. Ron spent countless evenings troubleshooting with patience and ease. Cliff got me to laugh.

In Iran, I was helped by a number of officials. Mohammad-Ali Abtahi, the chef de cabinet of President Khatami, spent long hours with me. Hosein Nosrat, Ali-Reza Shiravi, Ali-Reza Haghighi, and the staff at the Ministry of Islamic Guidance and Culture went to extraordinary lengths to help arrange interviews and trips and occasionally get me out of trouble. They were available to help at all hours and on weekends. Fatemeh and Faezeh Hashemi introduced me to a side of Iranian life I otherwise never would have known.

There are a number of Iranian friends with whom I worked in Iran who educated me about the country and welcomed me into their homes. Nazila Fathi,
The New York Times
stringer, is truly in a class of her own. I met Nazila in 1992, when she was just out of college, and we began to work together closely three years later. We have traveled to all parts of Iran together, and she never quit until the task at hand was finished. I marvel at her patience, kindness, sense of humor, and pursuit of journalistic excellence. Nazila, Babak Pasha, her husband, Golnaz Fathi, her sister, and Jaffar Fathi, her father, are like family. Nazila and I worked with Hadi Salimi, a loyal and courageous driver and friend who was there whenever we needed him to take us on our next adventure.

Farhad Behbahani and Fereshteh Farhi opened up their home and their hearts to me, inviting me to spend time with their family and friends. Nahid Hosseinpour, whom I have known since she started working with
The New York Times
during the revolution, is as loyal a friend as I could ever hope to have. Over the years Goli Emami welcomed me with tea and sweets, wisdom and one-liners whenever I turned up on her doorstep; her learned and patient husband, Karim Emami, shared his wisdom on history, literature, language, and culture, and brought precision and clarity to the manuscript. Nasser Hadian, his wife, Shirin Parvini, and their daughter, Tahereh, shared their stories and hospitality. Amir Mahallati showed me Shiraz and introduced me to Persian poetry. Abdol-Reza Houshang Mahdavi filled me with history. Jamsheed Bairami, a gifted photographer, led me to magical hidden places throughout the country. Christophe de Roquefeuil and Kianouche Dorranie of Agence France-Presse warmly welcomed me to their bureau whenever I visited and shared their time and insights.

There are other Iranians who helped me at times during this project and prefer to remain nameless. To them, my deepest thanks.

There is one Iranian friend whom I cannot thank: Elahe Samii, who worked with me in Iran in the 1980s at great personal risk, eventually escaping through Turkey and settling in Europe. Her free spirit and positive attitude made covering Iran in those difficult days bearable and fun. She was killed in the crash of Swissair Flight 111 off Nova Scotia in September 1998.

The most constant and important support came from my family. Some writers need to get away from family members to work; I needed to be with them. I mostly wrote from home, which meant that every day after my daughters got home from school, I got to hear their stories and share in their day over tea and cookies.

Alessandra gave me a translucent red stone to rub to relieve stress and plastered notes of support on my computer. My favorite was, “I love my Mom a lot, and I hope she gets her book done on time or even a little early.”

Gabriela needed to have a hands-on role, helping to collate and number pages and order and print chapters. She was full of tough questions (How do women get their hair done if they have to wear head scarves? Do women have to wear head scarves when they have sex?).

My mother, Jeannette Sciolino, and my mother-in-law, Sondra Brown, were there for my daughters at crucial times. Our baby-sitter, Wilna Papenfus, and before and after her, Katharina Björkström, gave them daily love and support.

Most important, there was my husband, Andrew Plump. Andy understood from the start how important the project was for me. He helped me formulate the concept and structure of the book, read the chapters over and over with his lawyerly precision, and stayed up late with me when the deadlines came. He was a single parent when I went off to Iran for weeks at a time. He remains my best editor and my best friend.

This book would not have been written had it not been for Maynard Parker, the editor of
Newsweek,
who died of cancer in October 1998. It was Maynard who took a chance on a female reporter still in her twenties with only a few months’ experience as a foreign correspondent and put her on a plane to Iran with Ayatollah Khomeini in 1979. It was Maynard who gave her impossible assignments and sent her to remote places and never lost faith in her. And she did what she was told, and more, because she knew that he had done it all himself, once upon a time. This book is for him.

Chronology of Events