I have just put down “Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books” (It was a very disjointed book; I don’t recommend it unless you are an enormous fan of James, Nabokov, Austen, Fitzgerald. Even then, I believe her analysis of these works is somewhat cursory.) The book is about oppression during the Islamic Republic…
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Maybe it’s just me, but I increasingly see a problem with activism: it can easily slip from passion to elitism. I’ll be honest; as I became more passionate about human rights issues, I started feeling incredibly upset. I started wondering: “Why doesn’t everyone else care? How can they hear about genocide, conflict, women’s rights, torture,…
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