I'm surprised by the widely divergent reactions to this semi-memoir. While reading it, I would never have thought it a "polarizing" type of book. I think the answer lies not in the inflated merits or imagined ills of the book itself, or even in the author's writing style, but in different readers' varying expectations and worldviews.
Let's begin with what we can agree upon: Whatever her intentions, the author presents her particular vision of life as an Iranian-American, and, more broadly, a first-generation American; the author has promising writing talent and a distinct authorial voice which time and further editing will likely refine; LJ is in fact essentially a memoir (and Moaveni in her afterward owns that despite her initial rectitude about the "memoir" label, LJ evolved into one); and, because this a memoir, it is and must be regarded as one woman's personal experience, focused on accounts of those close to her and with whom she has come in contact.
On to the disagreements. I would like to address prior reviewers whose dislike of the book is based largely on Moaveni's so-called "privileged" experience/viewpoint, and (necessarily) limited focus on the wealthier and so-called "Westernized" segments of Tehran society. This by itself can by no means be a legitimate objection to a book, whether fiction or non-fiction. As others have pointed out, the book is a personal journey; it is necessarily limited to the author's experience. Likewise, had this been a work of fiction, the author would have equal license--that is, artistic--to focus on the segment of society he or she chooses. Although Moaveni includes several bits of socio-political commentary, she does this because she is interested in politics, and because politics and government affect the lives of her "characters" to such a high degree. This book is not an example of her journalistic prowess or investigative reporting skills, and I think that in her afterward/closing remarks, Moaveni proves she is well aware of this.
Now that we have established LJ as a first-person account or early life memoir, it follows that any objections to the book's emphasis on the Tehran upper-class are in fact more general objections to "upper-class" stories and the people who tell them. The readers who, like the reviewer from Tejas, object to Moaveni's presumed aristocratic slant, therefore must be more generally predisposed to dislike all books that focus on the upper class to the presumed exclusion of middle and lower income segments of society.
Numerous anthropological and sociological studies have dissected and found wanting the "authenticity" construct. "Authenticity" presumes to identify whose viewpoint is most representative of a particular experience or group; who has the best claim to "tradition," "cultural legitimacy," or, in some milieus, "street cred."
Moaveni's upper-class, secularized Tehran set is no less Iranian and no less of interest to the Western, Eastern, Northern or Southern reader than the poor, religiously-preoccupied oppressed of Iran. No society is monolithic, thus any close inspection of a certain segment of that society is in its own way authentic. I have read ethnographies of urban, majority Black, majority low-income Chicago; of urban, majority Black, majority "aristocratic," wealthy and educated Atlanta; and of contemporary farming African-Americans in the rural South. None of these three books was more "authentic" or "representative" of "Black America," because Black Americans, despite many unifying characteristics and traditions, are also diverse, with divergent life experiences and expectations. To take the comparison a little further, none of these books represented "America," either, and a reader in Asia or Europe would not get an "authentic" or representative view of "America"--because to seek authenticity for so large and diverse and amorphous an entity is folly.
Moaveni's Tehran--the Tehran of the well-off, educated, and secular-- appears to be suitably factually-presented (unless I come across evidence to the contrary, for example, if her friend was never given thirty lashes for the bottle of wine, and Moaveni simply made this up). Assuming the factuality of the events and people she describes, Moaveni has given us a fully authentic portrait of a certain segment of Tehrani society. A book that focused on ALL Tehran's socio-economic classes still couldn't achieve the all-encompassing authenticity for which some readers are searching, and which no reader will ever find. Instead of demanding complete representativeness from a single work, readers should feel blessed at the variety of available books on Iranians, and seek out books that take as their focus a small segment or issue, offering us a minutely detailed portrait of, say, Iranian-American identity in northern California, the Tehrani homosexual underground, or the religious plurality in a rural Iranian village. The reader may then feel moved to identify common threads between these vastly disparate Iranians, and may arrive at some loosely defined sense of "Iranian culture," but again, even culture is a term that has been overused and over-applied to too large an entity--here, the nation-state.
Finally, as one of recent "Eastern" origin, I would warn readers of LJ against setting too much store by the artificial East-West bifurcation against which so many are judging Moaveni's social set. That designation, which started life with imperialists and colonists, was given legs by the very academics--for example, Edward Said--who warned against its misapplication and fetishization. It is not particularly helpful or accurate for readers to dismiss Moaveni and company as too "Westernized" to accurately represent other Iranians. Some of the behavior she describes, for example, has centuries-long roots in certain aristocratic West Asian societies, and only appears "Western" to those who do not have the knowledge or inclination to move past its contemporary veneer. Likewise, you may find that certain lower-income or less-educated Iranians and/or Tehranis display analagous behaviors or preferences. In short, it may help us further our understanding of literature and the world at large if we're wary of authors and reviewers alike who rely on facile designations like "Westernized."
I think we would do well to judge Moaveni's book on its technical and narrative merits and deficiencies, and not on our own misguided presuppositions of abstract concepts like authenticity and "realness." Moaveni is, in LJ, assuredly "keeping it real" for those of us interested in a particular type of Tehrani. She has a natural command of language that is pleasing and easily digestible in one sitting, and is very funny at times, in an irreverent, self-consciously youthful sort of way. Her tendency to Capitalize Everything may irritate, as may aforementioned editorial glitches, but her book has merit as a well-written account of immigrant-American anxiety, and, I think, is worth your time.
