🧳 Not Without My Daughter by Betty Mahmoody – A Memoir That Left Me Frustrated, Not Inspired
⭐️ Rating: ⭐️1 out of 5
This memoir should have been empowering. A woman survives spousal abuse, endures the unimaginable, and escapes against all odds. That’s what I expected from Not Without My Daughter. What I got instead? A story that felt self-centered, bitter, repetitive, and—frankly—xenophobic.
This bestselling book is supposed to tell the harrowing true story of an American woman escaping with her daughter from a controlling husband in Iran. But as I read it, I couldn’t help but feel like the author missed every opportunity to show grace, made terrible decisions repeatedly, and offered little to no gratitude to the people who risked everything to help her.
🧕 The Setup: Betty, Moody, and a One-Way “Vacation” to Iran
Betty Mahmoody married Iranian-American doctor Sayyed Bozorg Mahmoody, known as “Moody.” In the early days of their marriage, he seemed like a kind, capable man. But things changed after he lost his job. He became depressed, unstable, and—at times—violent.
Betty admits she nearly left him, but when she found out she was pregnant with their daughter Mahtob, she chose to stay.
When Mahtob was four, Moody proposed a two-week trip to visit his family in Iran. Betty hesitated but eventually agreed. Once they landed, Moody confiscated her and Mahtob’s passports—and revealed his real plan: they weren’t coming back.
This is where the story truly begins—and where my sympathy started to unravel.
😒 The Complaints Start Early… and Never Stop
Instead of focusing on survival or planning an escape, Betty spends the early part of the book mocking Iranian culture and complaining—constantly.
She makes fun of Moody’s huge extended family, scoffs at religious and cultural traditions (like stepping over a sacrificial lamb’s blood), and gripes endlessly about the heat, food, smells, language, pollution, noise, beds, bugs, and clothing.
I understand that culture shock is real, and Iran in the 1980s was far from ideal, especially for a woman trapped there against her will. But the sheer volume of judgmental commentary made it hard to root for her.
It often felt like she wasn’t describing a dangerous captivity so much as an unpleasant Airbnb.
👨👩👧 The Abuse and the Fight to Escape
When Moody dropped the bomb that they were never returning to the U.S., Betty rightfully panicked. She pushed back, and he responded with emotional and physical abuse. Over the course of more than a year, she tried to find help and potential escape routes—but always refused to leave without her daughter.
This is the most important and courageous part of the story: her refusal to abandon Mahtob, no matter how bad things got.
But even here, the book suffers. Every interaction Betty has with someone offering help—be it a neighbor, a fellow American, or a kind Iranian—is tinged with suspicion, sarcasm, or flat-out ingratitude.
People risked their jobs, reputations, and even their lives to get Betty out, and she rarely seems moved by it. Often, she criticizes their hospitality, their accents, or the food they offer.
🚐 The Escape: Dangerous, Heroic… and Underappreciated
Eventually, Betty connects with Amahl, a smuggler who agrees to help her and Mahtob flee Iran through a dangerous route across the border, involving fake identities, long drives, and narrow escapes. It’s terrifying stuff.
This should be the emotional climax—the moment we’re cheering, crying, white-knuckling the pages. But instead, Betty’s narration is cold and clinical, and her attitude remains frustrating. She seems to believe that repaying Amahl financially is enough—and doesn’t reflect on the tremendous human risk he took for her and her daughter.
💔 A Memoir That Could’ve Been So Much More
If Betty had approached her story as one of survival and strength, acknowledging the kindness of those who helped and confronting her own mistakes or blind spots, this memoir could’ve been powerful.
Instead, she paints the entire Iranian culture with a single brush—portraying the people, traditions, and society as dirty, backward, violent, or primitive. It’s not just a story about one abusive man, but a sweeping condemnation of a whole culture, based on her limited, painful experience.
I don’t excuse what Moody did. But I also don’t think turning real people who tried to help into punchlines or afterthoughts is the right way to tell this story.
⚖️ What This Book Should Have Been
This book could have been:
-
A story about escaping domestic abuse in a foreign country.
-
A tribute to the bravery of strangers who step up to help.
-
A look at the complex realities of cross-cultural relationships.
-
A candid reflection on trauma, motherhood, and survival.
Instead, it came off as:
-
A long rant.
-
A judgmental diary.
-
A missed opportunity to educate and inspire.
🙅 Final Verdict
-
Genre: Memoir / Autobiography / True Crime
-
Content Warnings: Domestic abuse, child endangerment, xenophobia
-
Recommended for: Honestly? No one I can think of.
-
Not recommended for: Readers who expect empathy, depth, or balanced cultural insights
⭐️ Rating: 1 out of 5
Have you read Not Without My Daughter? Did you have a different experience with it? Am I being too harsh? Let’s talk in the comments! 💬📚
Comments
Post a Comment