MY NAME MEANS FIRE: A Memoir, unflinching examination of the selves who saved the author

MY NAME MEANS FIRE: A Memoir
ATASH YAGHMAIAN
Beacon Press (non-affiliate Bookshop.org link)
$14.99 ebook, available now

A LIBRARY JOURNAL BEST BOOK OF 2025

Rating: 4.75* of five

The Publisher Says: An unflinching and stunning debut memoir of an Iranian girl’s coming-of-age experiencing abuse, war, and superstition—and her survival through dissociative identity disorder, which offered her an inner world into which she could escape

When she was a child, Atash Yaghmaian’s home life was unpredictable: a confusing mix of love and terror. Outside of her home, Iran was also on fire. Her reality of abuse, war, gender oppression, and religious superstition left her feeling unsafe everywhere. So, she left reality and disassociated into a place she called the House of Stone: a building in a magical forest full of peaceful creatures, kind talking trees, and volcanoes. Inhabiting this world are 9 beings, each different parts of Atash, who would be her salvation from the external horrors of her outer world.

Set against the backdrop of the Iranian Revolution, Ayatollah Khomeini’s regime, and the 8-year Iran-Iraq War, My Name Means Fire is Atash’s story of survival as she experiences tragic events including sexual abuse, a mother who subjected her to superstitious rituals, and the horrors of war. In chapters alternating with what’s happening in her outside world, her other parts—each named after a color—tell the story of her inner world, giving readers an understanding of what it’s like to be inside the consciousness of someone who is multiple.

Honest, powerful, and moving, My Name Means Fire is a bold narrative that challenges the stigma and misinformation around dissociative identity disorder (DID) and ultimately reckons with what it takes to survive.

I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA EDELWEISS+. THANK YOU.

My Review: A story not of abuse, but the lengths a mind will go to in order to survive abuse.

Author Atash is a child of war, growing up in revolutionary Iran during its convulsive birth. She had the bad fortune to be female at a time that was becoming as awfully abuse-worthy and dangerous as it can possibly be. She was equally unlucky in having a mother sufficiently divorced from reality as to subject her daughter to bizarre-to-me religious rituals in place of protecting her or getting her proper care.

We had the same mother, Author Atash. Mine had no war to excuse her insanity, but I had the great good luck to be born male. Harms balanced; my heart goes out to you. It won't help forty years later but it is sincere sadness for the things that occurred in your life that caused splitting your mind into compartments was the best way to keep yourself safe.

In this story of peril unprotected, abuse unstopped, and damage unheeded, the one thing that ran through my mind was, "your mind is astoundingly powerful! Your ability to divide yourself into different people, each capable of more than you thought you were, is close to miraculous!"

It was hard to read, I wanted to help her escape her lunatic mother, rescue her from the war-torn horrors around her adolescent self. I hurt for the potential squandered in her awful childhood...a mind this resilient could easily have achieved much more than survival, though it is astonishing she managed to survive. I'm extremely impressed that her life has been such that she was able to conceptualize and create this account of how she came to be a multiple, and how she became a self that could function.

I wished, to be honest, we had spent more time with the multiples, not quite so much detailing their traumatic genesis. It's a quibble, too, that ending the story as she's escaping to the US felt...rushed...but it gives me hope Author Atash will write a volume two. I'm glad I got to meet Fire in her present state.

THE AYATOLLAH'S GAZE: A Memoir of the Forbidden and the Fabulous, spoiled brat tells his story...it has a MAJOR warning in it

THE AYATOLLAH'S GAZE: A Memoir of the Forbidden and the Fabulous
MAJID PARSA
Neem Tree Press (non-affiliate Amazon link)
$22.95 hardcover, available now

Rating: 3* of five

The Publisher Says: An unflinching exploration of what it means to be gay in a society where homosexuality is punishable by death.

The dawn prayer calls echo through the streets. As many make their way to mosques, for some it signals the end of another illegal gay party. Under the cover of darkness, smiles on lips and sweat on foreheads, the gays of Tehran blend back into daily life. Hidden in plain sight, they plan when and where they will meet again.

In an unparalleled true story, Majid Parsa recounts how a childhood of war, prayer and obedience was upended by a teenage sexual awakening and ultimately, pride. He lifts the heavy veil of persecution to reveal the fabulous and flamboyant gay scene right at the heart of the Islamic Republic of Iran, flourishing under the ever-present shadow of the grand Ayatollah and morality police.

Eye-opening and at times laugh-out-loud funny, The Ayatollah’s Gaze is a story of self-discovery in a country where Sharia is the law.

I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA NETGALLEY. THANK YOU.

My Review: I flinched. Hard.

This privileged git takes insanely unnecessary risks in a country where he is not the only one who will suffer for them. If it was just him, knock yourself out; it's his family, too, and we are not talking about mere social ostracization as a penalty.

So no, "Majid" you pseudonymous twit, I didn't laugh because I was worried for your family. You don't seem to have bothered to, so I felt the need to point it out.

What makes this read one I don't just want to bury and forget is the clear and present danger represented by the jesus nuts and incels who want to enact the same kind of repressions on US gay men and the entire QUILTBAG community. This is why I suggest reading a sample to ee if you vibe with the style, because it's on Amazon only.

I'm repulsed by the kind of world the christofascist white nationalist people want. Look at what it drives decent people to do simply in order to exist. Then tell me if the forces of oppression and repression do not merit your active resistance.

MY PART OF HER, a parting in no way sweet but replete with sorrow

MY PART OF HER
JAVAD DJAVAHERY (tr. Emma Ramadan)
Restless Books
$17.99 trade paper, available now

Rating: 4.5* of five

The Publisher Says: In exiled Iranian author Javad Djavahery’s captivating English debut, a youthful betrayal during a summer on the Caspian sea has far-reaching consequences for a group of friends as their lives are irrevocably altered by the Revolution.

For our unnamed confessor, the summer months spent on the Caspian Sea during the 1970s are a magically transformative experience. There, he is not the “poor relative from the North,” but a welcome guest at his wealthy cousin Nilou’s home and the gatekeeper of her affections. He revels in the power of orchestrating the attentions of her many admirers, granting and denying access to her would-be lovers. But in a moment of jealousy and youthful bravado, he betrays and humiliates an unlikely suitor, setting into motion a series of events that will have drastic repercussions for all of them as the country is forever transformed by the Iranian Revolution a few short years later.

Over the next twenty years, the lingering effects of that betrayal set the friends on radically different paths in the wake of political, religious, and cultural upheaval. Their surprising final reunion reveals the consequences of revenge and self-preservation as they each must decide whether and how to forget the past. Urgent and gorgeously written, My Part of Her captures the innocence of youth, the folly of love, and the capriciousness of fate as these friends find themselves on opposing sides of the seismic rifts of history.

I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA EDELWEISS+. THANK YOU.

My Review: Layers of response to this book. Most of them uncomfortable with the narrator, his assumption of power over the life of his female cousin, over the lives of the men who pursue her, and the general awfulness of a culture where that's just the way it is.

You'll see. It'll happen to you, if it hasn't already, and you will know as I do that the life you spent wanting to forget was in fact nothing but a life spent remembering.

This storytelling voice is the one used throughout the book. You're told what the story will do next, where it will lead you the reader. That isn't going to be everyone's favorite technique, but it's integral to the book. It is, per Translator Ramadan, a cultural staple and thus a vital part of the story being told. As she's translated other works from French in ways that delighted me, I'm willing to trust her.

How far will a male go to possess a female? How high is up, the answer ends up being; the young woman in this iteration of that seemingly eternally fresh story represents the startlingly awful answer of "into depths of manipulation and depravity that will revolt and surprise you."

The details aren't unique, or even any more distasteful than the fact that he uses his position of trust to rifle his cousin's underwear drawer; to cause a discovery to be made that screws up her chances at escaping an ugly, exploitive sysytem; and to ruin her suitor's life entirely in his home place while simultaneously looking virtuous to a powerful man.

So we're listening to the confession of a truly despicable boy...why?

Because all this takes place on the cusp of Iran's 1979 Islamist rebellion against the Shah and his paymasters. Everything changes...for the worse...very soon after the events of the story. Even here, my goodness if he doesn't try to finagle a way to weasel in with the new, hardline regime. The risks of playing a double game with True Believers come home to him. His much-desired cousin is suddenly more vulnerable than he is. She's a woman with an education and counterrevolutionary ideas.

She disappears.

An exiled Iranian author makes his Anglophone debut in this disturbing tale of moral turpitude and the cost of power to those who only want its benefits. The story the narrator tells us, finally revealing his ugly, wizened by lust soul to the gaze of others, doesn't so much edify its readers as provide a horrible example of the wages of the truest, most unforgivable sin:

Greed.

I read it with a strong desire to douse my brain in bleach to get the pervy little bastard's cringing Uriah Heeply gloating over his power cleaned off its surfaces. To no avail, obvs. I'm decidedly not edified at the end of the read. I'm damned glad I've never met this little lickspittle. I'm even more glad I can judge him from the untested heights of US cultural privilege. I've confronted that gift again and remain knee-shakingly grateful I was never tested in this way. Would I have done better?