I have just finished reading the Children of the jacaranda tree by the young Iranian writer Sahar Delijani in its french version.
The novel based on the author's personal experience (she happens to have been one of the many children born in Iranian prisons), as well as that of various other families who had to face similar situations, is no more than an evocative portrait of different generations of men and women, who inspired by love, poetry and idealistic perspectives in regards to the Iranian revolution aftermath saw themselves trapped in their attempt to chase the dreams of freedom and justice they felt they were entitled to.
Beyond the rather dense atmosphere of memories, secrecy, insecurity and incompleteness surrounding those who directly participated in the revolution and those who were born into it and therefore (in)directly affected by their parents' decisions the main focus is on their "invisible" scars and the cost of freedom.
It is a huge reminder to the many of us who just take freedom for granted and forget the many who still live under regimes where one's freedom of expression does not exist.
"Le temps ne guérit pas les blessures (...) le temps en matière de chagrin n'est qu'une tentative pour oublier qui échoue."
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