The Book of Kings

The Book of Kings Abolqasem Ferdowsi. Shahnameh: The Persian Book of Kings. Translated by Dick Davis. Viking 2006. 885 pp. $45.00 $25.00 (paperback) THE Book of Kings, Shahnameh, is the national epic of Iran, and one of the loftiest summits of world literature. Completed in the early eleventh century, it is to Iranians and the Persianate world what the Iliad the Odyssey are to Greeks and the West. Until recently, Persian classical poetry was largely unknown to the general public in the West, the purview of a few specialists and academics. Edward FitzGerald's Rubaiyat ofOmar Khayyam (1859), a free rendition of the poet's quatrains, was an exception. So, to a lesser extent, was Matthew Arnold's Sohrab and Rustum (1853), based on one of the most tragic episodes of the Shahnameh. But in the last couple of decades, thanks to the efforts of gifted translators and dedicated scholars, the treasury of classical Persian poetry has been more fully discovered, and a few poets have become genuinely popular, notably Jalaluddin Rumi (1207-73), whose mystical poetry has struck a chord with readers on both sides of the Atlantic; when Madonna declared Rumi her favorite poet, one could say that after seven centuries of obscurity in the West, Mowlana ("Our Master," as Rumi is called by Sufis) had finally arrived. Ferdowsi's epic has not yet reached that degree of popularity, although its presence in the West goes back to the nineteenth century, when the scholar Jules Mohl published his French translation in seven volumes, between 1834 and 1878. Thereafter extracts appeared in various European languages, but the poem remained confined to the cognoscenti. One hopes that Dick Davis's lively, delightful translation will reach a wider readership. It is hard to imagine better timing for its publication-Iran is in the news. Most Westerners' image of the country and its people is limited to women in black chadors, turbaned politicians, and fist-shaking, slogan-shouting crowds-not very flattering, I'm afraid. By contrast, Ferdowsi's poem provides glimpses of an ancient civilization and insights into the collective psyche of the Iranian people, helping us to understand both their survival as a nation through centuries of tormented history and the reasons for their pride. To Iranians, the Shahnameh is the mirror of their history and the foundation of their language. It has been a major source of inspiration to artists throughout the ages-some of the most prized Persian miniatures are illustrations from old Shahnameh manuscripts. Every Iranian child is raised on it, his or her imagination nourished by its magical stories, historical tales, spiritual precepts, and moral injunctions. "Power grows out of knowledge," written in ornate calligraphy on blue tiles above the gate of my first school, greeted us every morning on arrival. Its corollary was the motto of the Ministry of Education, engraved on its stationery: "From the cradle to the grave, seek knowledge." When the midwife announced the birth of my second brother to my father, he was moved to quote a couplet from the Shahnameh: "Women need possess no greater art / Than giving birth to noble lions." So pervasive is the Shahnameh in Persian culture that it has given rise to many popular maxims and adages, quoted even by the unlettered: "Revenge is not the way of kings," people say, when enjoining forgiveness or magnanimity; or "Oh don't make such a fuss-it's not Rostam's seven trials!" (in reference to the seven deadly hazards encountered by the arch-hero of the Shahnameh). Many of my school friends were named after the epic's characters. And its influence penetrates even to the zur-khaneh, a traditional gymnasium where athletes perform their ancient, ballet-like, martial-art exercises to the rhythm of a drum and the chanting of verses from the Shahnameh. It is often said that what gets lost in translating poetry is the poetry. To which the Spanish poet Jose Bergamin (1895-1982) responded, "Yes, but if it is not translated all of it is lost. …