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Niloufar-Lily Soltani, Zulaikha, Inanna Publications, 2023. 332 pgs.

If there is a single word that can encapsulate the novel Zulaikha, it is beauty—a beauty that transcends the physical and allows one to witness human resilience and raw emotion. The strength of Zulaikha—both the novel and the character—lies in its authenticity. Ironically, the Zulaikha of the novel is perceived as ugly and undesirable, for she does not conform to the Caucasian beauty standards that the non-Caucasian world so fervently upholds.

The legend of Yusuf and Zulaikha is well known in the Muslim world; it underscores the importance of love, and the patience it demands—something the novel also profoundly conveys.

The representation of Iran in English-language fiction remains limited. The working class is often overlooked, their portrayal reduced to stereotypes: illiterate, barbaric fundamentalists. And yet, they exist—and their voices matter. Zulaikha presents a powerful character who defies the odds and endures hardship with unflinching dignity. The Western emphasis on achievement and the ideal of the overachiever is but another means of imposing capitalist definitions of success, often diminishing the East. This colonial mindset frames the way many refugees from war-torn regions are compelled to show gratitude—forever indebted. Dina Nayeri has written superbly on this subject.

Zulaikha, however, continues to make and remake a life in Iran, discovering joy in the small and ordinary moments.

The novel offers an intimate portrait of Zulaikha’s emotional life, dwelling on the quiet rituals of her day. Despite her losses, she cherishes art and culture. She watches television dramas and reads romance novels. Her lack of formal education does not hinder her from embracing the pleasures of literature or popular media. She finds solace in her daily routines—a privilege often denied to victims of war.

Set in Khuzestan and Tehran, the novel traces the pain of fractured families and the quiet resilience of the working class. Zulaikha is the only sister of two brothers, both of whom distance themselves from the anguish of their missing father and the ensuing collapse of their mother, Medinah. Due to her family’s dire circumstances, Zulaikha is compelled to marry an older Arab man in Bahrain. It is his first wife who selects Zulaikha for him—an unsettling depiction of patriarchy and women’s lack of agency. Widowed, Zulaikha returns to Iran and begins again. This time, she falls pregnant by her brother’s friend, Kia. His wealthy and influential family forces her to terminate the pregnancy. From that point on, Zulaikha’s life becomes a litany of loss and grief.

After her mother remarries, Zulaikha begins to feel the pain of abandonment even more acutely. In time, she herself remarries and becomes the mother of a son, Sohrab—only to be abandoned once again by her husband, who finds another wife for himself. Set against the backdrop of the Iran–Iraq War, the novel depicts further loss: the destruction of the only place she has ever called home. Once more, they are uprooted—this time to a refugee shelter in Tehran. Over time, they attempt to recreate a sense of home, but a series of tragedies prevent Zulaikha from ever truly feeling at home again. Her brother goes missing; police interrogations and imprisonment follow her—but Zulaikha never relinquishes her hold on life or love.

That is the beauty of the novel. Zulaikha not only learns to rebuild her sense of home each time tragedy strikes, but also learns to cherish the fragile beauty of love and life’s quiet pleasures. A friend, a bookshop filled with poetry, a cup of coffee, a pot of freshly brewed tea, a modest space to call one’s own—such things acquire new meaning when one truly understands the vulnerability of existence. Zulaikha even opens herself to love again, eventually remarrying her former husband. She does not dream of success in the West; instead, she forges a life amidst the ruins of war, harbouring only an occasional desire to visit her son in Amsterdam. This is not a judgement upon those who pursue success in the West, but rather a challenge to the prejudiced notion that salvation lies only in Western attainment.

Zulaikha transforms her solitude into strength. By the end of the novel, a slightly older Zulaikha is living alone in Tehran. She also returns to her family home in Khuzestan. She appears cheerful—she maintains a close relationship with her nephew and is deeply concerned about a stray dog she has befriended during her stay. In an unyieldingly harsh world, Zulaikha responds with kindness—and that becomes her greatest strength.

Khuzestan, geographically significant for its vast oil reserves, has long drawn geopolitical interest, particularly from the United States, rendering it a region of immense political relevance. The Middle East is not the barbaric land so often portrayed by the West—it is an ancient civilisation where women have long contributed meaningfully to art and culture. The novel, in fact, contains references to numerous female poets, reflecting the cultural awareness of its characters and their love for poetry.

Zulaikha is the epitome of strength and defiance—fighting against rigid social structures for the sake of survival. And Zulaikha, the novel, is a hauntingly beautiful tale of that struggle.

How to cite: M, Fathima. “Beauty and Strength in Niloufar-Lily Soltani’s Zulaikha.” Cha: An Asian Literary Journal, 12 Jul. 2025, chajournal.blog/2025/07/12/zulaikha.

Fathima M teaches English literature in a women’s college in Bangalore, India. She likes hoarding books and visiting empty parks. [Read all contributions by Fathima M.]

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