From Qeytariyeh to Oranjakanti is by Hamid Reza Sadr.
In the words of Julien Barnes: There was one who is not!
Honestly, not all beings are the same. Some people are more than others, and their existence is so vivid that even after death, they still speak of themselves, their voices, and their works.
Few people have lived life. Most of us have a laid back attitude when it comes to painting a picture about ourselves.
But there are also people like Hamid Reza Sadr who change the definition of life by several steps. Hamid Reza Sadr! The man who loved life lived and stood in the face of death and disease to survive.
He left but did not die. Through his works, his commentary, and his critiques, he left an legacy for all ages that will live on forever. Hamid Reza Sadr was a teacher before all this. A teacher who even taught us a lesson from leaving; Wrote and waited for it to be published in time.
About the book from Qaytariyeh to Orange County
Hamid Reza Sadr’s book, From Qaytariyeh to Orange County, is a bitter book of great literary value. When Hamid Reza Sadr noticed the progression of the cancer, he went to the United States to continue his treatment, and there he decided to write about his time with the disease and his days during it.
About his struggle and survival and, of course, the defeat of the disease. Provided the book is published when he is blindfolded.
I wish this book had not been published yet. The last chapter of this book was written by Ghazaleh Sadr, daughter of Hamid Reza Sadr. He has written about his last days with his father and what a shocking season it is.
In this book, we see Hamid Reza Sadri writing about life after himself. From the effort and definition of health and value that we may realize only when we are in bed. He talks about the days that go by without noticing that these days and hours never return.
These words become valuable when a person like him who has worked hard all his life and lived a fruitful life warns us of the passage of time. Someone like him writes about the value of life and health moments.
Mehdi Yazdani Khoram, a literary critic and consultant for the Iranian literature section of Cheshmeh Publishing, says: “This book is bitter and has a high literary value. I have rarely seen such a person in Iran face his illness so directly and powerfully and confront him in the text and talk about it. “This book is extremely influential and has a unique narrative value.”
This 318-page book was published in 1400 by Cheshmeh Publishing House and was released on the 40th day of this worthy person’s death.
About Hamid Reza Sadr, author of the book From Qeytariyeh to Orange County
Hamidreza Sadr was born on April 20, 1965 in Mashhad. He studied economics and received his master’s degree in urban planning from the University of Fine Arts, University of Tehran, and went to the United Kingdom for a doctorate, earning his doctorate from the University of Leeds in the United Kingdom. We know him as a film critic and football commentator. He knew both well and spoke and wrote honestly.
Hamidreza Sadr was a regular writer for Film Magazine and collaborated with publications such as Zan Rooz and Tehran Emrooz. Sadr appeared on most television sports programs as a football expert.
Hamidreza Sadr also wrote in the art column and film analysis of publications such as Shargh and the film’s founder, and also participated in the Iranshahr theater program. On the other hand, he is also known for his analyzes at the London Film Festival.
Hamid Reza Sadr died on July 16, 1400, at the age of 65, after a three-year battle with cancer in California.
Who is the book suitable for from Qaytariyeh to Orange County?
The sad theme of this narrative removes the book from the gift-giving options, but if you have only read Sadr’s pen once or listened to his critiques, you will be aware of his narrative skills. Therefore, this book is recommended to all fans and friends of the late Hamid Reza Sadr.
In a part of the book from Qaytariyeh to Orange County, we read:
One of those repetitive appearances, probably more boring than the other days. but no. Not so repetitive; Not too boring.
A storm is on its way. Great storm. Very big.
His time is in your mind. Hours and minutes. All the details. 04:43 Tuesday, September 27, 2016 in the “lower floor of Bank Melli Hospital” pulmonary ward. A hall sunk in silence. Waiting and calm patients. Mortuaries near Iran’s monetary centers on Ferdowsi Street. Next to national and central banks and exchange offices and embassies.
Yet disregard for money centered on damaged bodies.
Every time the eyes of the people of money shine with enthusiasm. Patients’ eyes are dim on the corrugated metal platforms.
These are carefree guests. They no longer raise their voices. They did not dirty the dish, not even with a word
They have hurt the heart. Most of them are satisfied with silence and begging like they are now like here. Silence, silence.
One and only against Dr. Rasoul B – pulmonologist. A thin man whose narrow eyes did not let the rain of mischievous eyes tell you to recognize the color of his eyes. One of those cool cool doctors who knew you. He recognized and patted his shoulders with a cold smile: “Where are you and where is Mr. Sadr?”
“It’s a disease for everyone. Dear Doctor.”
The doctor took a photo with you and sent it to his student son, who claimed that he had always been in love with you. And in degree
The white doctor sat down and you stood next to him in the same dark coat you always had. He smiled at the camera and you opened your mouth to the camera. There is an examination bed in the background and a desk in the foreground. Lung scan images on the table, damn images. Taking pictures with doctors has never been pleasant. Doctors usually take the form of winners
And the patient of the dead mother always seems small and small. Like one of a doctor’s slaves.
Doctor – took pictures of the lungs in front of the lightbox. Your heart beats faster despite the apparent coldness.
Tingling the tips of your fingers and toes. Raise the finger of the doctor’s right hand and lower it on the left lung and show two points. A small spot with a large mass above his head, a white spot in that black frame the size of a bean. Sharpening your corners.
Hearing that nasty word from the doctor: Suspicious … Suspicious … Suspicious. Doctors usually telegraph bad news to patients. They do not phrase much. Even kind doctors use the word “suspicious” only mixed with a little compliment and sympathy. And the word “suspicious” in their terminology means “malignant.”
Tehran and football; Eternal favorites
“From Qaytariyeh to Orange County” is a cruel and unconventional autobiography. Dr. Sadr on the hospital bed is the same Hamid Reza, a boy on the platforms; When he has had a mass removed from his brain and has just had surgery, the first question his surgeon asks is what the outcome of the Arsenal-Chelsea match was;
It means love in such an astonishing way. Falling in love with the phenomenon that made the day and night, he has written a lot about it and has said about it in many TV shows.
Thank God you have spent the World Cup without worrying about scans, lungs and nodules. The last World Cup. Somewhere in an argument with Adel Ferdowsipour, you said involuntarily and without reason that I was going through my last World Cup and he said no. You are right unfortunately and not him.
In the latest work published by Sadr, we read about his beloved Tehran, who has been his home and shelter for many years and closes his way to Orange County, California.
From the passion he has for it and from the lines of his book; As he talks about Tajrish Bazaar, especially on the last nights of the year, the crowds of Chizar neighborhood, the performances of Iranshahr Hall, the Faculty of Fine Arts, the traffic and so on.
Mr. Hamidreza Sadr! Every time you remember Qeytariyeh and Tehran, your heart wants to stop moving. But you know you have to deal with this filth. Now that you can not even think right and all you know is that the state of thinking about work and the future and income is disturbed.
From Qaytariyeh to Orange County; A ruthless controversy
I remember seeing Houshang Ebtehaj in a conversation with Massoud Behnoud, in response to a question he was asked about his opinion about death:
Death? I do not count him as a person. When we are, there is no death, and when death comes, we are no more. And then he reads a bit from Khayyam:
Tomorrow we will pass away so late
We live with seven thousand years
But Behnoud did not ask the shadow’s opinion about “dying”. Asked death; “Death” is different from “dying”. Death is momentary and death is gradual. Death is right with the shadow, but what about death?
Hamidreza Sadr was also aware of this difference and instead of “from Qeytariyeh to Oranjakanti” he speaks of comfortable deaths; From deaths coincided with death.
Not to prolong the migration process. Those who suffer from serious illnesses have always had and still have a glimpse of easy deaths such as cardiac arrest, and Sadr was no exception, and in some parts of the book he envies painless departures.
I think his view of “death” and “death-thinking” and “death-consciousness” before illness is in complete agreement with Tolstoy’s view of Ivan Ilyich’s death. He, too, always believed that death lay in wait, and always knew, like Hedayat, “that death is the only one who does not lie”; But we all know that the practice of war is different from war itself. Where to practice and where the damn race.
You always said that surrendering is the home of falling and extinction and you should not give up. You said life is not hope. But now that you are sick, you have raised your hands and you have no hope. At best, you try to calm yourself down with lies
life is Beautiful? Not so!
In the book “From Qaytariyeh to Orange County”, Sadr has fought against his tumors. He is the player, he is the reporter, and he listens as much as he can to the words of his coaches, who are his doctors in this sensitive match. Sadr details the days spent in hospitals and laboratories;
From associating with nurses and doctors, from seeing the plight of ordinary people, from impatient patients and patient companions. One of the prominent points of the existence of this book is the manifestation of the determination and will of the patient, who has not stopped writing in this two-and-a-half-year path that he has narrated and has become physically weaker and more fragile day by day, and in his own words (Word) is closed hearted.
The main narrator of the book “From Qaytariyeh to Orange County” was fascinated by life; The same life you saw in the movie, watching football, going to parties and having parties.
He worked eagerly and had good times with his friends, and was truly happy, joyful, and calm with his wife and child; This is what I learned from his personal life by reading his most personal work. We have always and everywhere heard that life is beautiful or life has its own beauties, but how can one breathe the beauties of life for a patient who is going through the last days of his life?
How can he be trusted? To someone whose sweet memories of the past are reminiscent of lost health. How can this be hoped for, when the shadow of death grows larger and the malignant cells become more ruthless?
Baudelaire once called death “the old captain” and was willing to hand over the helm of life to him:
O old captain!
Now go sometimes
Let’s lift the anchors!
This land evokes nothing but boredom
Let ‘s set sail.
But everyone, even Baudelaire himself, knows that death, though right, is still painful. Although we already know the outcome of the game, but we are still not willing to accept it, it is bitter.
it’s difficult. Of course, sometimes death becomes normal; With numbers and figures, with statistics and graphs. I remember the days when we were scared and sad when the number of corona victims reached three digits a day, we were following the news of the moment, but now that the corona is beating more ruthlessly and mourning 700-600 families daily, our grief remains. We are not afraid either.
Maybe it has become normal for us. But let’s be realistic, this is normal to the point where we’re just listening to the news, not experiencing it. Of course, for us in the Middle East, bad news has always been normal, and it’s as if our destiny has been shaped like this.
2- Introducing the book in Aparat