Nafisi’s descriptions of those early days after the Iranian revolution just hit a little bit too close to home. The sense of dread mixed with a fool’s hope that some reaction will come. The incredibly human, but blindingly stubborn intrusion of daily life. The shocking mundaneness of the antagonists. The sense of loss and helplessness in the face of such blind devotion. Every time I put the book down I’m left with a sense of foreboding. We cannot fathom what is yet to come, we cannot believe people will go to such depths. They will.