among others. She is the author of Leila’s Day at the Pool and Amazing Animals. Goudarzi has taught writing at NYU and is a 2017 Writers in Paradise Les Standiford fellow and a Tin House alumna. Born in Tehran, she grew up in Iran, Kenya and the U.S. and currently lives in Brooklyn.
Goudarzi applied the Page 69 Test to her new novel, The Almond in the Apricot, and reported the following:
From page 69:Visit Sara Goudarzi's website.“Even petrol will be rationed. We’ll have to store whatever we are able to in canisters. We get ration coupons...”Page 69 of The Almond in the Apricot takes place in a world the main protagonist (Emma) is plunged into every night, and in which she lives the life of a young girl named Lily in a war-stricken setting. Here, Lily is overhearing her parents talk about rationing that is taking place due to the war and is squaring her perception of what she thought war would be like and what it’s really like. And while page 69 doesn’t give much of the main story away, it does encapsulate the disorientation that the book’s two main characters experience. In this case, the young girl is learning how to make sense and navigate this new world that has suddenly become her life. Similarly, in the main storyline, Emma, who has recently lost her best friend, finds her world toppling and colliding with Lily’s in a way she can’t fathom. The Almond in the Apricot is Emma’s story of learning to understand and traverse these two worlds, and come to terms with her heartache.
“What other options do we have?” Dad says.
“Black market. But the prices are already sky-high. We can supplement when we really have to, but I don’t see how else we can afford it. Yesterday I heard from the neighbor that the price of butter’s already tripled. And it hasn’t even begun. This is just in anticipation.”
“Stupid war. And at the end, just a bunch of dead people.” Dad’s talking in a normal voice now.
“Shhh, I don’t want her to hear.”
“She’ll hear soon enough. Kids talk about everything in school.”
I go back and sit on the bed, open the notebook, and start working on transforming fractions to decimals, something I’m very good at. But can’t stop thinking about the broken-open homes in Grandma’s town, ripped from their roots by some strong force. And how do they go back up again? Brick by brick, by hand. It will be a long time before they can build it all back up and put that town together again. I feel a tightening behind my eyes and switch over to what Mom and Dad were saying and what it means. Are we not going to have food anymore? Or less of it? I can give up butter, but the other stuff we usually have for lunch and dinner will be tough for me not to eat. But I should do it. Otherwise, how will my parents be able to afford it all? We’re not super rich or even a little rich like Mimi’s family. We’re normal.
The war’s been very strange. When I used to think of war, before it came to our city, I imagined tanks on the roads, people hiding behind bags of sand, shooting at each other, dust being raised on the streets, and Red Cross nurses with cute little white hats carrying bloody people into tents. Just like the movies. But it hasn’t been like that. Everything seems normal. I still go to school. Our street is still covered by asphalt and there are no tanks or men crawling
--Marshal Zeringue
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