The Book Lover’s Tale

Azar Nafisi’s engrossing Reading Lolita in Tehran is the sort of book that ruins the sleep of those in charge of placing books in bookstores. Where to shelve it? Under literary criticism? No, for although it subjects a number of classics to revealing scrutiny, that would miss much of its point. Under memoirs? Similar problems: although its story is intertwined with the life of its author, it is not that life. Women’s issues or feminism would not be entirely out of place—the main characters who both act and suffer in this book are female—but again, in such a classification something would be lacking. A mischievous soul might stash it under book groups, which would be about as close as my college library’s choice of veterinary medicine for Hemingway’s Death in the Afternoon: there is a book group in Reading Lolita, but it is more like a life raft than an after-work social gathering.

Reading Lolita needs a category all its own. “An...