Title: Neighbors

Author: Ahmad Mahmoud

Publisher: Amirkabir

Subject: Persian novel

Number of pages: 502

Language: Farsi

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Introducing the book Neighbors by Ahmad Mahmoud
Neighbors is a novel by Ahmad Mahmoud (2002-2011), an Iranian author. This novel tells the story of a young man named “Khalid” before the coup d’état of 28 August and the period of the oil nationalization movement in the city of Ahvaz.

Khalid goes from inexperienced teenager to politician as the novel progresses. Meanwhile, his love for the “black-eyed” girl puts him in the dilemma of choosing between love and duty, and he ends up in prison.

Excerpts from the text of the book
Enough of hearing the promise, our promise came true. The more we suffer, the more we are referred to that world.

Books are a new world to me. New professions and new works. I am also attracted to the writings of the book, which I would not be able to do if the ball were thrown at my ear. Like a thirsty person who has reached the water, every sentence has become a sip of refreshing water for me. Cool, clear and clear water that gives life to me.

I hear someone’s voice.
“Are you Khalid?”
I turn my head. It is short and wide. His arms are like rubble. His gaze burns like fire.
“Reject it.”
I’m wondering what to do. I’m doing it.
“I brought you a bed, let go of the two lights.”

I go to the bottom of my pocket. I put two crumpled pieces in the palm of my hand. I put the rug, the blanket and the support under my armpits and I go in solitude. In every knot of yarn, my father smelled and my father smelled tobacco.
I spread it. I put the support and lie down. I rub my face with a rug. I want to cry. She relies on my mother. I dip my cheeks in the reliance and smell. He is suffocating me with hatred.

It’s enough for someone to call me Saddam and talk on the roof. I have never been so thin. It’s as if my mother’s wig is playing. It was as if my father was sitting on a rug and smoking a cigarette. I hear my father’s sad voice. From afar, from the bottom of the well.

It is as if the carcass of a sheep that you have hung on a butcher’s nest hangs in my hands. My neck gets tired quickly.
I feel that blood is collecting in the bowl of my head, I raise my head again, my neck is tired again. Blood is rippling like a sea in the bowl of my head, I am suffocating, suddenly blood comes out of my nostrils like a tube of the sun…

Related books

1- Introducing the book  on YouTube

2- Introducing the book  in Aparat

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