Join Tessa Gratton and me as we read the Shahnameh by Abolqasem Ferdowsi. We’re using the Dick Davis translation (Penguin Classics).

Today’s portion: Rostam and His Horse Rakhsh

Synopsis: Rostram chooses a horse that was foretold to be his.

TG: This was a nice, short episode to dig into, and I was most struck at what an important role the mare had. She protected her foal for his destiny by attacking anyone tried to take him like a lioness, and even though she doesn’t have a name, she was the first horse described in this section, and described beautifully.

Interesting to me that the horses are linked to lions and dragons — I’ve read some in the past about war horses, and they truly are vicious when trained for war.

My favorite part of this piece, though, was the line “the price of this horse is Iran itself.” The horse is quite literally priceless, but also costs a very important promise. I love the symbolism of this exchange.

I went looking for some images of Rakhsh, and they’re plentiful, but very interestingly I also discovered that Rakhsh is the name for an Iranian armoured truck.

Some of my favorite images of the horse Rakhsh:

 (Image from the British Museum)

http://www.bl.uk/learning/images/story/shah/Rostam’s%20horse%20Rakhsh.jpg Here’s another painting from one of the illustrated versions of Shahnameh! This one on a webpage through the British Library. Interesting that the horse is painted in a pattern like a leopard or giraffe! that is not what I was imagining by the description of “saffron petals, mottled red and gold” but I can see how that’s near what they meant.

KE:

The price of this horse is Iran

This line is everything. This is why I read. This is why I write. If a story started off with this sequence it would be nice but it wouldn’t mean anything special; it wouldn’t have weight and resonance. It’s only after the build up of episodes, after the disasters of the war with Turan and the lack of a king, that it hits with all the power and majesty that I want from a story.

I actually read this section and the next one right after finishing the Turan/Iran war section because I was so filled with adrenalin and with all the “what happens next!” feels. We are really headed into the famous meat of the tale.

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Next week: Rostam and Kay Qobad

Previously: Introduction, The First Kings, The Demon King Zahhak, Feraydun and His Three Sons, The Story of Iraj, The Vengeance of Manuchehr, Sam & The Simorgh, The Tale of Zal and Rudabeh, Rostam, the Son of Zal-Dastan, The Beginning of the War Between Iran and Turan

Join Tessa Gratton and me as we read the Shahnameh by Abolqasem Ferdowsi. We’re using the Dick Davis translation (Penguin Classics).

Today’s portion: The Beginning of the War Between Iran and Turan

Synopsis: Manuchehr dies, leaving his crown to Nozar, who briefly loses farr which leaves an opening for Persia’s enemies to attack. During the long campaing, Nozar dies and Persia is left in danger of being conquered.

TG: I confess this might be my favorite section so far! I love war fiction and descriptions of massive military campaigns, especially when I’m invested in the players, and that is all these pages were! And because we’re so many weeks into this reading, I’m getting better at keeping track of who is who and who I care about, and why.

I’ve loved Qaren ever since he captured the castle of Alans for Manuchehr by tricking his way in and massacring so many of his enemies he turned the surface of the sea “black as tar.” I was seriously worried he was going to die early in this war, especially after his poor brother died (ah the wise Qobad! Alas!) and he went for revenge against the much younger Barman and Afrasyab. But he made it, for now at least. He got to be getting pretty old, but I continue to be delighted by his prowess and that Zal, too, relies on him to lead the armies of Persia.

(It was interesting that since the good guys were centered around Qaren and Qubod this time, the bad guys also had a brother duo, one a powerful warrior and the other known for his wisdom – though Aghriras never seemed so wise to me. They didn’t trust each other the way Qaren and Qubod did, which was, of course, their downfall as brothers.)

There was a lot of advice in this section, too, starting with Manuchehr’s advice for his heir Nozar, on the fleeting nature of rulership and life. That was the theme throughout both the advice and the narrative itself, as several warriors speechified on how they belong to death, that this earth is no more than a “cradle for death.” It smacks of destiny, though that’s not how it’s really presented. More like the inevitability of death, especially for warriors who work for death, as death-makers.

It was fascinating that Nozar could not only lose his farr (in the typical way), but regain it so easily. There’s not much narrative dedicated to him getting it back. We just learn the nobles explained to him how he lost is, and voila, he has it back.

Also fascinating: that Zal does not become the king of all Persia. He clearly has the farr (I think Simorgh saw it in him?) and when he hears good news of battle he celebrates by giving money to the poor and giving away his own coat to the messenger. If that’s not farr I don’t know what is! But instead they go searching through all Feraydun’s direct descendants and end up with an 80 year old, who does great, but only for those 5 years, and now there is no king!

I was worried about Mehrab for a moment, there: was he truly playing both sides, or was he only putting Shamasas off by pretending to be on his side until he could warn Zal?

I hope that after Rostam joins the battle, Qaren gets a great death in the next part of the war. If Zal is bent and old, Qaren must be incredibly white-haired, as they’d say.

KE:  The constant discussions of death also intrigued me. Like you, I did not see this as a comment on destiny but rather more like the perspective in Ecclesiastes.

I too was worried about Mehrab because of his connection to Zahhak but so far he has proved steady and loyal, appropriately so for the grandfather of the future hero Rostam. But what a great reversal!

In fact this section more than any of the others had the narrative urgency of uncertainty. I really had no idea what was going to happen. I was prepared for anything and anyone to die, to be betrayed, to lose, or to win. The earlier sections have all had a sense of inevitability to them, in the sense that there wasn’t much sense of turning the pages to find out what happens next. You kind of know, or can guess, and it is more a matter of seeing how it plays out, or enjoying the descriptions, or being edified by speeches and erudite conversations between kings and councilors, and so on. So this was quite exciting as story, and actually the big plot feels as if it has scarcely begun. In a way I feel like everything that came up to now has been a prologue of a sorts leading up to the opening of this war.

I went back and re-read parts of the introduction to see if anything in these “legendary kings” section matches with known history but according to the intro the narrative doesn’t touch on any history that’s come down to us until a mention of the Achaemenid Dynasty right before Alexander is introduced. There is a suggestion that this king list could be from farther east of central Iran and thus part of a different regional tradition. This area of Central Asia has such a rich history and was such a center of scientific, literary, medical, and political civilization. It’s just fascinating. I wish I knew more about the history of Khorasan and Sogdiana and Bactria, this huge continental area that has always been a meeting point for cultures. I’ve read a bit but even so, much has been lost because of the successive waves of conquest and assimilation across the region.

Here an image of a Sogdian era wall painting from Afrasiab.

I haven’t even talked about the brothers! Aghriras is such an interesting character because he’s one of the rare men who is not a warrior. With everything and everyone up in the air at the end of the section, I’m quite excited to see what comes next.

Next week (March 18) is a BYE WEEK. We return on March 25 with Rostam and His Horse Rakhsh

Previously: Introduction, The First Kings, The Demon King Zahhak, Feraydun and His Three Sons, The Story of Iraj, The Vengeance of Manuchehr, Sam & The Simorgh, The Tale of Zal and Rudabeh, Rostam, the Son of Zal-Dastan

Join Tessa Gratton and me as we read the Shahnameh by Abolqasem Ferdowsi. We’re using the Dick Davis translation (Penguin Classics).

Today’s portion: Rostam, The Son of Zal-Dastan

Synopsis: Rudabeh nearly dies giving birth, but with the help of a wizard and the great bird Simorgh, Rostam is born to great acclaim.

TG:  At first I was very worried Rudabeh was going to die giving birth to Rostam, in some terrible metaphor about how he’s too great and strong for this earth, much less a human woman’s body. BUT not only did she survive, she named him, and named him after her own trial with death. She also is the first to acknowlege the farr in him (“she saw the signs of royal glory”). I was so glad she made it, and to see the return of Simorgh, who raised Zal, and that Sindokht was present, too. Even though the line of men is obviously the most important, the women are not only not erased, but they come back and are part of the family in a way that creates the future, too, not just holding the history.

But let’s talk about the doll baby for a moment: in any modern Western narrative that would be the beginning of a story in which the doll becomes Rostam’s ultimate weakness, or evil doppelganger – possessed by the devil or something. Part of me hopes that’s where it’s going (and that the doll baby will, in fact, return at all) but part of me thinks it’s just one more fascinating detail dropped in as part of the story, only there to highlight how great Rostam is and will be. Not foreshadowing or the promise of danger. We shall see!

Additionally, I’ve noticed before that when a great mass of people is brought together (usually an army) the descriptions say the ground grows black. In this section the lines are: “the earth turned the color of ebony beneath the cavalry’s hooves” and “the earth turned black as pitch.” I’m wondering what this is in reference to. The great shadow of a gathered army darkening the ground? That’s the best I can come up with.

Previously: Introduction, The First Kings, The Demon King Zahhak, Feraydun and His Three Sons, The Story of Iraj, The Vengeance of Manuchehr, Sam & The Simorgh, The Tale of Zal and Rudabeh

Join Tessa Gratton and me as we read the Shahnameh by Abolqasem Ferdowsi. We’re using the Dick Davis translation (Penguin Classics).

Today’s portion: The Tale of Zal and Rudabeh

Summary: Zal, son of Sam, falls in love with Rudabeh, who is the daughter of Mehrab, himself the grandson of the demon Zahhak. Because of her relation to Zahhak, Sam and Manuchehr initially oppose the marriage, but a prophecy that Zal and Rudabeh’s union will produce the most glorious son to protect Persia brings everybody around.

Zal stands with a companion at the base of a palace wall. He touches a lock of hair which Rudabeh, standing at the top of the wall, has let down. She has several companions with her.

KE:  Where to even start? This sequence is so filled with rich storytelling that it could be an entire novel.

Years ago I read that “romantic love” is a modern invention, so I always enjoy reading stories like this that put the lie to that notion. It took me a bit to figure out what the obstacle was in the relationship: that Rudabeh is Zahhak’s descendent and thus deemed unsuitable.

Another thing that fascinates me about this tale, besides Ferdowsi’s endlessly inventive language, is its structure. If I had worlds enough and time I could write an entire essay that is about how conversation and consultation frame the various stages of the story. The young couple’s journey to matrimony is a series of social interactions with the powerful people (their parents and their king) around them. Rudabeh’s interactions are more personal and private than Zal’s, which are more public, and it is interesting how Sindokht shifts between the private and public spheres.

My favorite episode is probably that of Rudabeh’s three slave girls who seek out and converse with Zal. They are clever, confident, and free to speak. For one thing it shows that Western cliches about what women could and couldn’t do in “Eastern” societies are just that: cliches. This is borne out later when Rudabeh’s mother, Sindokht, takes charge of the expedition to travel to Sam and convince him to spare their kingdom from Manuchehr’s (presumed) wrath and to allow the young couple to marry. She states “I own castles and palaces, treasures, and slaves.” Later Sam gives her a whole raft full of rich treasure. The idea of helpless, passive women languishing in the harem . . . . nope.

The element of women’s agency is also shown in Rudabeh not only sending out her three trusted women to contact Zal but arranging for him to meet her in her palace (she has her own palace). I don’t know about you, but I read the sequence as she and Zal having sex. The idea of virginity has yet to be linked to female value. Certainly the sexual activity of the two sisters who were married to Zahhak is immaterial when they then marry Feraydun, and there is absolutely no indication that any notices or cares what the love-struck Zal and Rudabeh might have gotten up to beyond a few coy and amused references to the men Zal speaks with being aware that all he can really think about is HER. I guess one could argue that they keep it secret and so no one knows, but that doesn’t seem to be important.

This aspect is all very refreshing.

True love triumphs! With a little help from an intelligent mother, loving but anxious fathers, and astrology.

And then right in the middle of the fraught negotiations to calm Manuchehr and allow Zal and Rudabeh to marry, we get the incredible story of Sam fighting “the dragon that emerged from the River Kashaf.” This remarkable episode is merely a brief plot point along the way, brought in as part of a letter to convince the king.

What a great story this is.

TG:  I loved this section, too, and Rudabeh’s mom Sindokht is my favorite! The part you pointed out about her owning her own castles and treasures and slaves really stood out, since I don’t think we’ve seen women explicitly owning things before, though Feraydun’s mom seemed to rule her own land and so it’s been implied. I loved that Sindokht is allowed her own internal world in addition to being the voice of reason several times and also negotiating with kings – she was so full of anxiety it appeared like bruises on her skin (I loved that line), and it was her sorrow that drew Mehrab’s attention, but she got up and acted smartly. Her relationship with her husband was very interesting to me, too, since they seemed to compliment each other like partners. He is so passionate and melodramatic (as many of the men are in this book), and looks to her for advice (as many of the kings have done with their wives), but it was ratcheted up to a new level when Mehrab was at his wits end for how to keep their country safe, and all he could think of was to kill Sindokht and Rudabeh to prove to Manouchehr that they don’t need to be enemies. He begged Sindokht to come up with a better idea. “Fight for your life” he said, and I think he desperately wanted her to find a way. He relied on it, even, and trusted her to do it. I’ll take more Mehrab/Sindokht please, especially since they’re descended from the demon. (Which was apparent in their struggles for how to behave, too, as when Mehrab immediately thought to make “a river of blood of Rudabeh,” just like his grandfather (the demon!) would have done.)(I just ship it completely: #sinrabforever)

Though I was entertained by the constant negotiations and the fact that this entire long section was all about the threat of violence and solved with talking, I have to admit I was thrown in the middle when Sam already knew about the prophecy for Rostram, but didn’t use that to convince Manuchehr. He eventually got there on his own, but it seemed like a purposeful muddling of the narrative, and problems that can be solved by simple revelation of information is one of my least favorite romance tropes. That said, it highlighted how little the story relies on withholding information like that in general.

I assumed they had sex, too, since they spent all night intwined. I’m not sure how else to read it, and I laughed out loud when Manuchehr told Zal to stop lying about missing his dad, “I know you just want to get back to your girlfriend.” <3 <3 <3

My other favorite line was

“He scatters gold when he’s at court, and when

He’s on the battlefield, the heads of men.”

NICE.

The vivid details of the dragon episode were fantastic – I’m thinking in particular of Sam emerging naked because all of his clothes had been burned off.

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Next week: Rostam, the son of Zal-Dastan
Previously: Introduction, The First Kings, The Demon King Zahhak, Feraydun and His Three Sons, The Story of Iraj, The Vengeance of Manuchehr, Sam & The Simorgh

Join Tessa Gratton and me as we read the Shahnameh by Abolqasem Ferdowsi. We’re using the Dick Davis translation (Penguin Classics).

Synopsis: Iraj’s grandson Manuchehr goes to war with an army of heroes and sons of kings raised by Feraydun, killing his great-uncles and defeating a demon one-on-one.

TG: This was a lot of war! I enjoyed the descriptions of actual battle – even though it was very poetic and over the top – and also the use of trickery and messengers. I especially liked Qaren pretending to be working for Tur in order to take his castle.

I found some links to elephant armor (though it’s Indian, and more modern than what we’re talking about). This is from the Royal Armouries Museum and I’ve seen the first in person, and it’s awe-inspiring to stand next to.

Museum exhibit of an elephant in armor. The head and sides are protected by armor.

Here are some elephant tusk swords:

Elephant Sword, 15th–17th century
Indian,
Iron or steel; L. 24 in. (61.2 cm); Wt. 5 lb. 3 oz. (2362 g)
The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Gift of Jeri Garbaccio, in honor of Donald J. La Rocca, 2015 (2015.103)
http://www.metmuseum.org/Collections/search-the-collections/679021

elephant tusk swords

These would be attached to the sawn down end of the tusks.

(Source: https://chalklands.files.wordpress.com/2009/06/elephanttuskswords.jpg) 

Since fate came up last week, I thought I’d mention the section where the Evil Brothers try to convince Feraydun that they only acted as fate proscribed. They said they only acted in order to bring what was written to pass. But I don’t think they mean fate as we think of it – I think they really mean “nature.” When they compare themselves to lions and dragons, it seems like they mean they only behaved according to their natures, too, just like last time we were told we shouldn’t be surprised that the moon gives off moonlight. There’s a definite connection between the idea of “fate” and the idea of “nature.” And then again, it was so important to Feraydun that he raise Manuchehr so that the winds of heaven never touch him and even his nurse did not walk upon the earth. He clearly was concerned with keeping the goodness Manuchehr was born with pure, so there might be something to fear from “nurture.”

KE:  Here’s a question. I’m continuing to grapple with the notion of farr. While I believe any such concept must have a particular and specific meaning for its own culture, I do also see similar concepts in other cultures. It isn’t really the divine right of kings, which allows for a lot more corruption if all that matters is whether you are designated by God to stand above others, but rather the relationship between the ruler and righteousness (or heaven as it stands in for righteousness and purity). Lose that righteousness and your rule will fail, the crops will wither, and your people have the right to overthrow you. The idea of American Exceptionalism is drawn in part from this conception that some carry a particular purity or divine approval. And how does this intertwine with fate and nature? We know from Jamshid’s example that you can lose farr. But can you gain it, or must it be something given to you or that you possess intrinsically? I have no firm views on this matter; I just find it interesting.

The narrative issues in this section intrigued me. Is there any suspense? Is suspense necessary? Aren’t we sure that Manuchehr will win? Perhaps the point isn’t whether it happens but how it happens. Perhaps it is the anticipation, waiting for the fulfillment of divine justice. One (of many) reasons I find reading outside my familiar narrative landscape important is because it introduces me to different approaches to and goals for narrative.

One last note: I think my favorite detail was the description of the messenger chosen by Manuchehr to bring Tur’s head to Feraydun. What a lovely little portrait of empathy, which I found very touching:

“and when the man arrived his face was filled with shame, his eyes with tears, since he wondered how he could show the severed head of the king of China to the Persian king, because no matter how evil a son might be, or how terrible his crimes, a father’s heart would be wrung by such a sight.”

Next week: The Tale of Sam and the Simorgh (Feb 19)
Previously: Introduction, The First Kings, The Demon King Zahhak,  Feraydun and His Three Sons, The Story of Iraj

Join Tessa Gratton and me as we read the Shahnameh by Abolqasem Ferdowsi. We’re using the Dick Davis translation (Penguin Classics).

Summary: In which Feraydun divides his lands into three parts for his three sons, and the two oldest becomes jealous that Iraj, the youngest, recieved the best part. They kill him, and Feraydun mourns spectacularly.

An illustration depicting the king, Feraydun, dividing his empire between his three sons. Feraydun is shown as a dragon and each son is mounted on a horse.

KE: Well. That was depressing. All my worst fears realized, and so very sad.

Here are a few of the particular things that interested me besides Ferdowsi’s examination of envy, nobility, and grief.

Of course the good son becomes king of Persia “because he is worthy” while the other two are relegated to the opposite ends of the Earth where, we may be encouraged to believe, the somewhat less worthy are meant to reign.

Feraydun’s two wives play no part in the drama at all despite being the mothers of the sons. Neither do the Yemenite princesess whose marriages were such a large part of the previous section. It’s fascinating that Iraj’s bloodline is carried on through a daughter; that her issue (the subject of the next section) will become the instrument of vengeance. She’s not named, however (although her mother is), but her spouse is abruptly introduced as Pashang with no further information, which makes me wonder if it was assumed that the audience knew who Pashang was from some other story cycle or supplementary tales. Else why mention the man by name? Maybe we will find out in the next section although I’m doubtful.

I continue to really enjoy Davis’s translation because I assume it is doing a good job of bringing across to me Ferdowsi’s vivid and powerful images.

TG: I noticed that immediately about the daughter, too. I was laughing that Feraydun was hoping for a grandson to take vengeance for Iraj’s death, and then OOPS a girl! But as soon as she wasn’t named and her husband and mother were I pretty much gave up on that hope. We’ll find out in the next section.

I love love loved the language in this section. So many phrases stood out to me. “The blossoms of his face ran with blood” “your body’s shroud a lion’s maw” “sealed the tight eyes of happiness.” SO GREAT. And the words of wisdom were particularly well drawn this time, too: “grasp this cup while it is still dawn, or at night supper will be at your expense” and “one should not be surprised that the moon radiates moonlight” in particular are going to stay with me for a while.

The descriptions of grief were just amazing. Throwing dust on their heads, blackening their faces, burning the garden, his “waist girdled with blood,” weeping so long the grass grows up to his chest… magnificent.

I have to admit that the longer rhyming poems pull me out, though, because I wonder how much we lose in the effort to create the rhymes. Maybe very little, but it does jar me out of the narrative when they’re so simply rhymed.

And, lastly, what a great moment calling back to the dragon from last section, when the brothers make it clear that they can’t trust their father because he deceived them when they were youths. In a way, that one piece of selfish magic Feraydun performed, to test them, led to his sons’ betrayal and the death of Iraj.

KE: I have mixed feelings about the poems. I like the idea of including verse, but I’m not sure Davis’s poetry is as good as his prose in terms of giving us a taste of Ferdowsi.

Besides the marvelous and evocative images and emotion in this section, that callback really resonated. I thought the dragon test was a cheap trick at the time for a parent to engage in (shades of King Lear), and it really did rebound against him in the end.

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Next week: The Vengeance of Manuchehr (February 12)
Previously: Introduction, The First Kings, The Demon King Zahhak, Feraydun and His Three Sons

Join Tessa Gratton and I as we read the Shahnameh by Abolqasem Ferdowsi. We’re using the Dick Davis translation (Penguin Classics).

SYNOPSIS: Feraydun’s three sons earn their names and marry the three daughters of the king of the Yemen.

An illustrated page showing a king presiding over the wedding of his three daughters.

TG:  This story is very simple and straight-forward, and a story-type I’m very familiar with, and yet it surprised my by how technically well it’s told, and how self-sustaining it is.

I read the line that the princes could hold their own against elephants before they were named and assumed that was a delightful bit of hyperbole meaning they were big and strong even when babies. THEN the note that the princesses of the King of Yemen were “three unnamed daughters” came and I paused to think for a while about naming conventions. Clearly the daughters are marriageable age, so what does this mean? They have no names of their own? Why not? Are they only named in relation to their eventual husbands? How does this work? I remembered the line about the princes and decided maybe it was a detail I was never going to get the answer to, something I don’t understand because of a lack of exposure. Or it was a use of basic fairy-tale convention.

AND INSTEAD IT’S WHAT THE ENTIRE STORY IS ABOUT.

The three unnamed princes and three unnamed princesses coming together and only then earning their names from Feraydun – the most powerful character currently in the world, with the farr of God and magic of angels. This story is not about Feraydun dividing his land or fighting between the sons, it’s about how they got their names and, of course, foreshadowing.

I went back and read through the whole story again to see how the hints about the theme were dropped in so casually and gracefully that I – a very practiced reader – noticed them, but not how they were part of the internal scaffolding.

I continue to be impressed by the role and treatment of women. The princesses weren’t unnamed because they were women, and they are valued by their father for themselves and how they make him feel. Not political or monetary worth. He’s only concerned with enraging Feraydun, not gaining alliance with him through the means of his daughters. All the women so far, though ruled and sometimes even controlled entirely by the men, aren’t chattel. They have power in their own right as advisors, sorceresses, mothers.

KE: I agree. I also entered this section with preconceptions and then they were all exploded. I suppose this is the “good dad” episode although naturally there may be more good dads later but I was specifically enamored of how the story deals with the king of Yemen and his love for his daughters. He doesn’t reject Feraydun’s request out of hatred for the other king. He isn’t evil or conniving, even though he does connive a bit. I was so impressed that he simply really loves his daughters. As people. As good company. What a concept. Also, so far the two kings also identified as Arab have not done well against the Persians, although obviously the king of Yemen isn’t in the same category as Zahhak. His deceit is, one might argue, for a good cause (at least by our standards).

Like you, I read the clues as to what the episode was about without really registering them until the naming happens and then the light went on and I realized I had been played by a master.

It also interested me that Feraydun finds a way to praise each quality of his sons even if, as with Salm, we might in another circumstance expect him to be condemned as a coward. Yet it IS also possible to see his behavior from a different angle, as the king does.

I did feel there were echoes of the ancient Indo-European folktale pattern of the three sons and the youngest son having a special destiny. I don’t know if this will turn out to be the case but given that the next section is the story of the youngest son, I guess we are about to find out.

Next week (February 5): The Story of Iraj
Previously: Introduction, The First Kings, The Demon King Zahhak

Join Tessa Gratton and I as we read the Shahnameh by Abolqasem Ferdowsi. We’re using the Dick Davis translation (Penguin Classics).

Today’s portion: The Demon-King Zahhak (pages 9 – 27)

Synopsis: The rise of Zahhak at the hand of demons, his unjust and evil rule, and final fall when Feraydun is prophesized to overthrow him, and proceeds to do so.

Zahhak enthroned. Note the snakes growing from his shoulders. Original image at: http://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?6447-Sultan-Muhammad-Bihzad-the-Shanameh-and-Classical-Persian-Book-Illumination-pt-2&goto=next

TG: While the introduction to the early kings was fun and interesting, this longer chapter about the rise and fall of the Demon-King Zahhak gave me pretty much everything I want: demons causing havoc for no apparent reason other than they feel like having some fun, wild prophesies, creepy demonic magic, ladies with names actually affecting the narrative, and oh yeah, the rainbow cow I never knew was missing from my life.

I’m pleasantly surprised how little we had to wait for the ladies to appear, and that the first turn out to be sorceresses and trusted counselors to the king (even if he’s a demon-king), instead of only being defined by their relationships to men (which, of course is how they’re initially introduced to us: sisters, mothers). Shahrnavas and Arnavaz are clearly very important to Zahhak, too, since he really only becomes infuriated enough to make terrible mistakes and be captured when he hears and then witnesses himself that they switched sides to Feraydun.  Arnavaz in particular is powerful, even (especially) within the constraints of her role.

On a more narrative note, the epic poem I’m most familiar with is Beowulf, and I’ve done a lot of reading in related Norse epic poetry and stories. One of the pieces of evidence that Beowulf was based on old oral stories that everybody knew instead of being an invention of a single poet(s) is the frequent introduction of quasi-historical characters without background explanation. It was assumed that the listener would be familiar with the famous mythological characters and heros and legends. I’m getting that same feel in the first part of The Demon-King Zahhak. The triggering event of this section is when Eblis appears to Zahhak in disguise. I have no idea who Eblis is initially, but Ferdowsi probably expected his audience to know the name  (just as later he expects us to know what Ahriman means). Especially because later Ferdowsi in a parenthetical explains that the River Arvand is also the Tigris, so clearly there were some things he DID feel the need to explain, the names he assumed everyone knew stand out even more. This sort of immersion makes me very aware of the poem as a living, breathing story, not just ancient history.

My favorite tidbit was the aside about the creation of the Kurdish people. I’ll think of that every time I read about them in the news.

KE: Yes, this section is fantastic. Besides the exciting action and the cool women, it contained all the little touches that make me fall in love with a writer.

How great is Ferdowsi’s sly aside “I heard a wise man say that, no matter how much of a savage lion a man might be, he does not shed his father’s blood, and if there is some untold secret here, it is the mother who can answer an inquirer’s question.”

Note how this is not phrased in a way that is apparently critical of the woman. It made me smile. When he introduces the sisters, they are (as you say) not what I expected, not passive but rather active within the constraints of their position. Also, both sisters as well as Feraydun’s mother, Faranak, have names, rather than being described purely via their relationships to the hero as in “wife” “mother” etc.

I do know the name Eblis, which makes me agree with your point about a larger oral cultural tradition from which Ferdowsi is drawing/collating to create his epic (as Davis discusses in his introduction). I appreciate Eblis as an antagonist. Something there is in my psyche that cannot help but adore the detail of the demon kissing the king’s shoulders, here and here, and then two snakes growing there. Who eat nothing but human brains. This is narrative catnip.

And, yes, how this ties into the origin of the Kurds is amazing, and also equally incredible to me (especially in light of current events in the Middle East) that the Kurds have maintained ethnic autonomy for so many years in a turbulent region that Fedowsi feels obliged to mention an origin story for them.

On that note, Tessa found this cool map.

Next week (January 29): The Story of Feraydun and His Three Sons

Previously: Introduction, The First Kings

Join Tessa Gratton and I as we read the Shahnameh by Abolqasem Ferdowsi. We’re using the Dick Davis translation (Penguin Classics).

Today’s portion: The First Kings (pages 1 – 8)

Summary: “Here is our introduction to the establishment of civilization through a succession of glorious kings who ruled over people, animals, and the earth itself. They tamed the demons, discovered fire, invented irrigation, divided kinds of animals and kinds of human work all while honoring God.”

KE: A few things struck me immediately on reading this first section:

The story does not start with the creation of the world but rather with the creation of sovereignty, the “first man to be king, and to establish the ceremonies associated with the crown and throne.” I don’t know what traditions Ferdowsi is drawing on but given that this was written in the 10th century C.E. I thought the description of the piece by piece evolution of culture was fascinating. For one thing, the order makes sense. First people wear skins; then fire is discovered, and step by step more accoutrements of civilization are invented (by the kings).

Another element is how clearly stated the ethical theme is. Everyone, good or bad, will die. All that lives on after death is your deeds. Basically Ferdowsi sets up the morally good, just kings and their creation of civilization, and then we reach the pinnacle of glory and pride (symbolized by Jamshid commanding the demons to raise him into the heavens and his subsequent question “who would dare say that any man but I was king?” And so, the fall.

It’s refreshing to read an epic in which an expression of justice and morality sit front and center (even with the caveat that a monarchical system is not one I personally would consider the most just and moral).

No women so far, but the young men are, without exception, handsome or splendid.

TG: Yes! It makes sense to frame the narrative with the creation of civilization instead of the world, since this is literally the book of kings and kings require a civilization to rule – mortal men who are indebted to God for the farr that allows them to rule humans, animals, magical creatures, and even the earth itself. I was impressed by how concise the progression of invention was, and like you said, how clearly the theme was laid out.

If you don’t come to it knowing what farr is, by the end of the section you probably have a pretty clear idea that it’s essentially the grace of God – much like the “divine right of kings” in the West – without that ever being spelled out. Last year I read a book called THE PERSIANS by Homa Katouzian and the author emphasized the importance of understanding farr in understanding the pattern of thousands of years of revolution and rebellion in Persia and even Modern Iran – and here this fundamental epic poem is about the exact same thing.

The section even ends on a sort of cliff hanger that only works because of the tension created by the narrative leading us to understand that great kings must have farr to rule strongly and Jashid has lost it so… TURN THE PAGE TO FIND OUT THE DIRE CONSEQUENCES!

As a side note, I appreciated the practical details here and there, like using blue as a color of mourning, and the delightfully self-aware “There was no armor at that time, and the prince dressed for war in leopard skin.” Of course, soon after armor is invented!

I wonder if we should take bets on how long before the first lady is mentioned, and how much longer before there’s a lady who does anything?

KE: The “turn the page to find out” element of Jashid’s story places this classic firmly in the written tradition. Oral storytelling also uses cliffhangers but I think not quite in the same way.

Also, reading that specific detail–“There was no armor at that time, and the prince dressed for war in a leopard skin”–was the point where I knew I would love this. And for exactly the reason you cite, that it is such a self-aware comment. It’s like a glimpse of the poet himself peeking through.

TG: And the origin of the term farr, or at least a more in-depth discussion on Wikipedia. The etymology section alone makes me drool:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Khvarenah

Next week: The Demon-King Zahhak

Link-back to the Introductory Post which includes the reading plan and links to each section as we complete it.

Recently on Twitter I mentioned my intention to read the entirety of the Shahnameh (The Persian Book of Kings) by Abolqasem Ferdowsi in 2016.

To quote from the introduction to the Dick Davis translation:

“The Shahnameh is the national epic of Iran, or Persia as the country used to be called, composed by the poet Ferdowsi in the late tenth and early eleventh centuries C.E. Its subject matter is vast, being nothing less than the history of the country and its people from the creation of the world up to the Arab conquest.”

In other words, the Shahnameh is one of the great epics of world literature. For some years now I’ve been feeling I ought to better acquaint myself with it (by finding a good translation and actually reading the whole thing) as a part of my slow attempt to grasp what “epic narrative” means in all its worldwide forms.

When I tweeted a photo on Twitter of the cover of the Dick Davis translation of the Shahnameh, which I had decided to read, writer Tessa Gratton replied that she had that very book sitting on her desk but hadn’t started it yet.

From this serendipitous exchange our project bloomed.

Here’s how it will go.

We plan to read the book in 42 segments (listed below), ranging in page count from 6 – 40 pages per week but averaging about 20. A 42 segment plan allows us to miss the occasional week due to vacation, illness, urgent deadline, and the dreaded etcetera, and still have a reasonable chance of completing the epic by the end of the year.

Each week we will exchange a few comments, add a link related to the epic, the narrative, the history, the author, the translator, or anything, really, that strikes us as interesting and illuminating. This is casual, done for our own pleasure, and not meant to be academic or scholarly although we hope to learn more about the history of this amazing epic and its author as we go.

We are using the Dick Davis translation, published by Penguin Books (we’re using the trade paperback edition with an introduction by Azar Nafisi, first published in the USA in 2007). We both have print copies but it is also available as an ebook (although the Kindle edition is more expensive than the trade paperback). Also, of course, your local library may have it. The page numbers listed below are from the Davis print edition.

Davis himself has abridged the poem somewhat (and one supposes as judiciously as possible); he explains his choices in his introduction. So I think it will be entirely possible to read along with another translation (or, of course, in the original language, which is always best). Even if there may be places of difference, the overall structure and order of story remains the same.

Reading schedule, by week:

(dates subject to change but we hope to stick to the schedule)

Week 1: The First Kings (8 pages) (January 15)

Week 2: The Demon-King Zahhak (19 pages) (January 22)

Week 3: The Story of Feraydun and His Three Sons (8 pages) (January 29)

Week 4: The Story of Iraj (11 pages) (February 5)

Week 5: The Vengeance of Manuchehr (16 pages) (February 12)

Week 6: The Tale of Sam and the Simorgh (7 pages) (February 19)

Week 7: The Tale of Zal and Rudabeh (34 pages) (February 26)

Week 8: Rostam, the Son of Zal-Dastan (6 pages)

Week 9: The Beginning of the War Between Iran and Turan (21 pages)

Week 10: Rostam and his Horse Rakhsh (4 pages)

Week 11: Rostam and Kay Qobad (6 pages)

Week 11+1: Kay Kavus’s War Against the Demons of Mazanderan (10 pages) because we split Week 10 into two parts

Week 12: The Seven Trials of Rostam (22 pages)

Week 13: The King of Hamaveran and his Daughter Sudabeh (13 pages)

Week 14: The Tale of Sohrab (28 pages)

Week 15: The Legend of Seyavash, first of three parts (22 pages)

Week 16: The Legend of Seyavash, second of three parts (22 pages)

Week 17: The Legend of Seyavash, third of three parts (22 pages)

Week 18: Forud, the Son of Seyavash (18 pages)

Week 19: The Akvan Div (7 pages)

Week 20: Bizhan and Manizheh (40 pages)

Week 21: The Occultation of Kay Khosrow (25 pages)

Week 22: Rostam and Esfandyar, first of two parts (26 pages)

Week 23: Rostam and Esfandyar, second of two parts (26 pages)

Week 24: The Death of Rostam (18 pages)

Week 25: The Story of Darab and the Fuller (14 pages)

Week 26: Sekander’s Conquest of Persia (16 pages)

Week 27: The Reign of Sekander, first of two parts (28 pages)

Week 28: The Reign of Sekander, second of two parts (29 pages)

Week 29: The Ashkanians (25 pages)

Week 30: The Reign of Ardeshir & The Reign of Shapur, son of Ardeshir (23 pages)

Week 31: The Reign of Shapur Zu’l Aktaf (23 pages)

Week 32: The Reign of Yazdegerd the Unjust (22 pages)

Week 33: The Reign of Bahram Gur, first of two parts (28 pages)

Week 34: The Reign of Bahram Gur, second of two parts (29 pages)

Week 35: The Story of Mazdak (6 pages)

Week 36: The Reign of Kesra Nushin-Ravan (32 pages)

Week 37: The Reign of Hormozd, first of two parts (28 pages)

Week 38: The Reign of Hormozd, second of two parts (29 pages)

Week 39: The Reign of Khosrow Parviz (18 pages)

Week 40: Ferdowsi’s Lament for His Son (8 pages)

Week 41: The Story of Khosrow and Shirin (22 pages)

Week 42: The Reign of Yazdegerd (23 pages)

Final Thoughts on the Shahnameh Readalong

To join us (and we hope you will), read along. You can start now, or join in AT ANY TIME throughout the year. If you want to send us a link to related material, we will GLADLY include it in one of the weekly posts. The more the merrier.

Next week we commence with the first segment, The First Kings (pp 1 – 8 of the Davis print edition).