A Hard-to-Put-Down Beauty of a Book by Theresa Gauthier

 The Stationery Shop by Marjan Kamali

When you know going into a book—in vague broad strokes— what the outcome of a story is, and the author still manages to produce a compelling read, you know you're in the hands of a true storyteller. Marjan Kamali’s The Stationery Shop is just such a beautiful and compelling read. Starting in 1950s Tehran, the story follows Roya and Bahman as they meet, fall in love, and cope with a changing world.

They meet in the titular stationery shop and they have an immediate attraction, but Tehran of the 1950s is a tumultuous place. Following their culture’s rather strict guidelines pertaining to gender interaction, they don’t have many opportunities to get to know each other. That is until the owner of the shop, Mr. Fakhri, finds reasons to leave them alone, and in later chapters delivers letters between the pair.

Told primarily from Roya’s point of view, the book touches on personal and historical, showing what it was like to live in Tehran in a politically charged point in history while also keeping the story personal. Roya is a young girl in high school, with hopes and dreams and listening to her father’s plans for her, which revolve around education and science. While her own heart leans more towards books, literature, poetry, and, of course, Bahman, Roya loves her father and mother and sister and her culture. 

Roya and Bahman become engaged, and then the story takes off in another direction. No longer focused on just the young boy and girl navigating romance for the first time and the impact of the political climate on them, they find themselves dealing with all the things an engaged couple faces like planning the wedding, preparing an engagement party, but they also face the peculiarities of Bahman’s mother.

The story touches on Bahman’s mother’s mental health issues and how they would have been handled in the time. In the 1950s, the vocabulary of mental health wasn’t as specific as it is now, nor was a mental health issue discussed, or, in some cases, even identified. The challenge of dealing with this for Roya is her future mother-in-law’s dislike of Roya. She’d planned for her son to marry someone else. A young lady of a higher status would have brought Bahman the status she herself had craved her entire life. 

Making a scene at their engagement party, she makes it clear that she won’t accept Roya. This turning point opens the door for machinations that Roya won’t know about for decades.

Yes, decades. The story stays with Roya through her college years in the United States, and into her marriage with that young man for whom she started to cook her well-loved family recipes. Roya grows and changes, and the reader understands these changes through her thoughts and as her story unfolds. When we learn of Bahman’s life, understanding of how things went wrong between them dawns and we see how this all could happen. 

The narrative delves into traditional Iranian food in such descriptive detail, the reader can almost taste and smell the spices, the fresh, gorgeous produce, and the succulent meats. After Roya’s move to the United States, her joy at finding a shop selling the types of things she remembers from Tehran is contagious. The reader feels the thrill she describes at smelling saffron again. Preparing the foods of her childhood for her new American boyfriend awakens her from her heartache over Bahman and leaving her parents behind in Tehran to pursue her education. 

The book is a joy to read on a lot of levels. The story is believable in every detail. Descriptions of food, clothing, surroundings, and of the characters themselves paint vivid pictures, while the strong desire to see of Roya and Bahman find each other again makes putting the book down almost impossible. This story has stayed with me and I find myself thinking about it even weeks later. I’d be happy to read more of Marjan Kamali’s books.