This is a difficult book to categorize, much less really understand in any concrete sense. As it stands, there are many possible interpretations of what's happening: a dream, fantasy, reality merging with fantasy, etc. In fact, these suggestions aren't far from Farhad (first mention p. 20)'s view: "When you're so paralyzed with fear that you turn to fantasies for reassurance, to imaginary women, to djinn, to angels, to life after death . . . " (p. 84).
One of the things I really liked about Rahimi (2007/2006) is the way the images carry forward, Farhad's mother's carpet (see p. 123), in fact, symbolizing Farhad's state of mind: "The black patterns have neither beginning nor end" (p. 120; cf p. 104; for other references see pp. 107-110, 112-113, 117-119, 121-125, 127, 129; for repeating mentions of "black patterns" see pp. 120, 123-125; for references to being "trapped in a labyrinth" see pp. 120-121). However, both his mother's (see p. 123) and Mahnaz (first mention p. 66)'s carpets share these commonalities: red and black colors (pp. 47, 104, 106, 112, 118, 120-121, 125), "octagons and rectangles" (p. 120; see pp. 104, 106), impresses of hatred (pp. 106, 109, 112), "carpet patterns" (pp. 119; see pp. 57, 104, 112-113, 118, 120, 123, 125), "black lines" (pp. 56, 106, 120, 123), and psychological transference (pp. 104, 112, 118-120, 123, 127). References to Mahnaz's carpet can also be found on pp. 72, 74, 103, and 105.
The best countering descriptions I found, though, had to do with Farhad's need for escape. They appear as follows:
(1)
I'm running. I'm running through the night ... A soldier runs after me, pounding the ground with his big heavy boots, bellowing, 'STOP! STOP!'(2)
But I do not stop. I run. Faster than an arrow. I grow bigger with each stride. Bigger and bigger. I'm taller than the trees. The soldier dwindles away. He gets smaller and smaller. I stop to piss on the soldier. But, as I piss, the soldier starts getting bigger and bigger. Bigger and bigger! I can't piss any more. (p. 45)
I have no idea anymore whether the patterns on our carpet have got bigger, or whether I've got smaller. I'm running along the black lines of the patterns...I like these related contrasts because they speak to Farhad's literal and mental conflicts. In the first instance, he's being chased; that chase is the context of the novel's beginning and ending (see pp. 7, 11, 14-15, 20-21, 25-27, 31-32, 44, 48, 50, 53, 57-58, 60, 66, 79, 84, 145). The second instance can be read as Farhad's fear of death, either because he is dying (see pp. 11, 14-15, 18-22, 24-27, 31-32, 45, 125, 143-145) or because he is likely to be killed if caught (see pp. 61).
'Run! Run!" my father shouts. 'Shut up and stop crying! You unbeliever!'
...I run. I'm getting smaller and smaller with every turn. I run and I run. The patterns get bigger and bigger. (p. 120)
Interestingly, however, Sarah Maguire's "Translator's Note and Glossary" (pp. 147-152)[1] failed to include the context for Da Mullah Saed Mustafa (pp. 6, 8-10, 17-18, 22-23, 27-29, 37, 39, 52, 98) who is obviously significant to Farhad. We only know: "My grandfather was a devotee of Da Mullah Saed Mustafa. No one else apart from him was ever allowed to visit Da Mullah Saed Mustafa" (p. 39). We also don't know the setting - Kabul (pp. 68-69, 79, 86, 97, 140-141) - until much later in the novel. More, we only get hints of social disruption (pp. 68, 79, 81, 92-93) - because "two jackbooted men" (pp. 7, 11, 15; cf pp. 12, 27; see pp. 50, 145) isn't enough to go on. All of this because I disagree with Maguire's view:
Though the narrator of A Thousand Rooms of Dream and Fear makes few overt references to the political situation in his country, it informs the whole novel. It is also assumed that the reader will understand the powerful social prohibitions that Farhad is breaking by being alone with a woman who no longer has a husband, and that Mahnaz is challenging by allowing her to be seen uncovered. (p. 148, bold added).
My answer to Maguire's first point: Absolutely not, because this novel could be set at any time and any place absent the context of communism (see p. 68); more, few would've been better replaced with almost none. Rahimimi (2007/2006)'s portrayal of Farhad, in fact, presents a man who is faced with death or an insurmountable fear that he is unable overcome by the end since the narrative actually circles back on itself. That's what makes trying to define the novel difficult.
In terms of Maguire's second point[2], she ignored Farhad, who observes: "When her face is hidden by her hair, I worry that she's anxious. But when she lifts it back, I can see she's not afraid" (p. 63), and later, ""In your eyes, in the things you say, there's a secret I see in my mother's eyes . . . a secret I've never"" (p. 102). So I don't think Rahimimi (2007/2006) was inserting social commentary by presenting Mahnaz as a woman who conceals and reveals (Ibid; see also pp. 46, 49, 58, 80), but as a contrast to Farhad's mother (see pp. 64-65, 98-99), a position that can be supported by Rahimimi (2007/2006)'s dedication: "To my mother and her abandoned dreams."
As you can see, there's a lot of rich material in Rahimimi (2006/2007)'s A thousand rooms of dream and fear. It's the main reason I'm not sure I want to let go of it; only another reading will let me know for sure.
[1] Maguire also confused me on one point. Let me start, though, by pointing out, in terms of Mahnaz, Farhad thinks: "In the space of just one night, I have gone through a thousand different emotions with this woman, as though something momentous had happened between us" (p. 101, italics added). Maguire noted, however, that "the phrase "a thousand rooms" is a direct translation of a Dari expression that can also mean "labyrinth"" (p. 148). So, Maguire, can you explain that in terms of the passage I quoted? In other words, why the thousand?
[2] On the other hand, Maguire may have been referencing what Farhad Mahnaz was thinking about Mahnaz which uses similar language: "And what about you? You're a widowed woman. Your husband was a political prisoner! Are we related? No. So what kind of relationship could I possibly be having with a woman who's not only a complete stranger but who's also a widow? If your family find out I've been here, then how on earth will you explain why you've given shelter to a young man you know nothing about?" (p. 81).
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