I was captivated the moment I realized I was connected, via the world of children’s literature, to a writer in Tehran.
From the moment I read Ali’s first post, I made it a daily habit to check on him, his family and neighbors. On days when he was silent, I worried. When he’d return, explaining his lack of internet connection or his need to travel to family, I’d breathe again.
This is the side of war we don’t see. Normal people, families, authors, illustrators, teachers, children… going through the motions of daily living, and then taking cover, listening to bombs explode very nearby, wondering if tonight their neighborhood will be struck, waking to daylight and death tolls, and yet the sparrows sing.
Buying gasoline, visiting the bookseller or coffee shop that miraculously remains open for business amid destruction, taking a walk, gathering with neighbors. I could never imagine what life is like inside war. And, thanks to Ali, I know.
This is not an easy book to read. But it’s honest and real. And I am grateful to have been part of Ali’s journey, which is not over. Ali, keep using your pen to show the world the humanity inside Iran.
In 1953, while living in Germany, my mother began creating a remarkable book.
She called it Happiness. It is a deeply personal, carefully assembled collection of poems, biblical passages, prayers, prose and pictures through which she explored love, faith, beauty, belonging and the life she hoped to lead.
The album was created in Germany in 1953–54, when the Poesiealbum—a decorated book containing poems, quotations, pictures and words of wisdom—remained an important tradition among girls and young women. Although Happiness was overwhelmingly my mother’s own creation, rather than a collection of contributions from friends, it belongs naturally to that cultural world: part poetry album, part spiritual scrapbook and part portrait of a young woman discovering who she might become.
Happiness has remained an intimate family treasure for more than seventy years. Now, as my mother enters her 91st year, we are transcribing and preparing it for publication. We hope to preserve it not only for the generations of her family who will follow, but also for readers interested in women’s lives, personal archives, poetry, faith—and the quiet ways in which people create meaning from the words and images they love.
Can you help us solve a mystery?
The book contains around 170 pictures, including postcards, botanical studies, reproductions, photographs and illustrations. Some are signed or titled, but we have been unable to trace their original publishers or present-day copyright holders.
We would love to identify the artists more fully and, where necessary, contact their families, estates, publishers or copyright representatives so that their work can be properly credited and included with permission.
We are currently seeking information about:
Vernon Ward (1905–1985) – a woodland and bird illustration
Inge Klein –Rosen, a botanical illustration of roses
E. Herzig-Welser – Enzian, a botanical illustration of gentians
Dunstan Thompson (1918–1975) – the manuscript poem beginning “The Villages of England…”
Do you recognise any of these works or names? Do you know who published them, where their archives are held, or who now represents their estates and copyrights?
If you can help – even with the slightest clue -please leave a comment or contact us through this website. Sharing this appeal with art historians, postcard collectors, archivists, poetry specialists and anyone familiar with mid-century German illustration would also be enormously appreciated.
By tracing their stories, we hope to ensure that these artists and writers – and the beautiful work they created, remain visible to new generations.
“I think it will be one of the books that will change my life.“
When the Sparrows Grow Anxious: Diaries from Tehran at War offers an intimate, humane and urgent record of ordinary life under bombardment and is now available to readers across the world in all formats. Written by Ali Asghar Seidabadi, an acclaimed Iranian researcher, author, and a well-known cultural figure, this extraordinary diary-style work offers readers a rare, immediate and deeply human account of life in Tehran during war, bombardment and internet disruption.
Thank you to long standing NOP collaborator, Liz Fincham, for her treasured review below.
“Profound, passionate, poetic, this important book takes us deep into the realities of daily life, in Tehran, now, in 2026. From the vivid title, When the Sparrows grow Anxious, we know we are in the hands of a thoughtful writer who walks us on a journey far beyond our often superficial knowledge of Tehran at War.
Behind the promises of posturing politicians, news reports and sound bites, here is the reality. We are invited to hear voices of people of peace caught up in this war. Despite the tragedies of deaths, injury, destruction, in this beautiful, diverse and complex country, the essential message is one of hope for peace.
As families and friends gather together in homes or outdoors, to share talk and meals, the sense of their courage is strong. The beauty of this place is celebrated alongside the documenting of almost daily attacks.
The over-arching message is of hope and prayers that peace will return. Birdsong and breaking of bread are metaphors of resilience. I think it will be one of the books that will change my life. Essential reading for these times.”
If you prefer to buy their copy through Amazon, you can buy hard cover, paperback or e-book by clicking here:
If you would rather order a physical book through your preferred bookshops, you can quote both the name of the book or the relevant ISBN numbers:
Hardcover: ISBN 9798197042132
Paperback: ISBN 9798180483287
A diary of war, culture and human endurance
The title’s image of anxious sparrows captures the emotional force of the book: small lives continuing amid forces far larger than themselves. Through that recurring motif, Seidabadi turns the daily experience of conflict into something both specific and universal.
The diary is rooted in Tehran, but its reach is international. As a writer and editor with deep connections across global children’s and young adult literature, Seidabadi writes from within a network of friendships, correspondence and cultural solidarity. His messages to writers, illustrators and book people beyond Iran become part of the book’s emotional architecture.What emerges is a record of war seen not through military strategy or state rhetoric, but through culture, family, memory and daily survival.
Readers encounter a city under pressure, but also a mind refusing to surrender its clarity. The result is a book that speaks powerfully to anyone interested in contemporary history, human rights, international literature, peace, cultural memory and the moral role of writing in times of crisis.
About the author
Ali Asghar Seidabadi is an Iranian researcher, author, and a well-known cultural figure. His newspaper columns and books for both adults and children are widely read and he is regularly invited to speak at various events and institutions and he frequently give interviews to non-governmental media outlets. During the 1990s, widely regarded as the golden age of Iranian journalism, Seidabadi became a well-known figure in Iran’s cultural and journalistic spheres. He was responsible for the culture, arts, and thought sections of several widely read reformist newspapers and later became a member of their editorial boards. Alongside his journalistic work, he wrote books for children and young adults and conducted research in children’s literature, reading promotion, and cultural studies.
In When The Sparrows Grow Anxious, Seidabadi brings that literary sensibility to bear on lived experience. The book is observant, humane and disciplined. It is marked by attention to small details, an instinct for connection and an unwavering commitment to nonviolence.
This is a diary by someone who understands the importance of stories — not as escape, but as a way of preserving human dignity when the surrounding world becomes frighteningly unstable.
Publisher Nick Owen MBE, founder of Nick Owen Publishing, said:
“At a time when the President of the USA can assert “A whole civilization will die tonight, never to be brought back again…” Ali Asghar Seidabadi has written a book of huge courage. These diary notes attend to the human texture of war: to windows, birds, phone calls, friendships, children’s books, and the stubborn persistence of ordinary life. That is precisely why the book matters and why we are honoured to bring his work to a wider, global public.”
When the Sparrows Grow Anxious is an important and timely publication because it offers something urgently needed: a human-scale account of war from inside the experience itself. It explores the cultural infrastructure of Iran through these diary notes, sometimes prompted by remarks made by President Trump. It shows that some forms of Iranian behaviour and social response, which may appear strange or incomprehensible to President Trump and to many people around the world, have deep mythological roots.
For further information, please leave your contact details here and we will get straight back to you:
When the Sparrows Grow Anxious: Diaries from Tehran at War Author: Ali Asghar Seidabadi Publisher: Nick Owen Publishing Ltd Publication: 15 June 2026 ISBN: 9798197042132 Format: [Hardback / Paperback / Kindle / eBook) Available from: Nick Owen Publishing / Amazon
We’re profiling some of the photographers whose work appears in When the Sparrows Grow Anxious and reflecting on how their images contribute to its power, texture and witness.
We would particularly like to thank the IRNA news agency, which generously donated almost two thirds of the photographs used in the publication. We are also deeply grateful to the many individual photographers whose work has helped make the book such an exceptional production:
Ahmad Moeini Jam, Akbar Tavakkoli, Ali Sharifi, Bahram Bayat, Eshaq Aghaei, Mahmoud Farjami, Maryam Al Momen Dehkordi, Marzieh Mousavi, Marzieh Pourarab, Marzieh Soleimani, Mohammad Mahdi Pourarab, Mohammadrasoul Moradi, Mohsen Rezaei, Sadegh Miri and Sadra Nouri.
We continue with the work of Maryam Al-Momen Dehkordi
Searching for the American Pilot
Remember this photograph. A few years from now, when Hollywood inevitably turns this war into a movie, come back to this image and compare what you see on the screen with what is here: this blue sky, these green hills, this solitary tree, and these few men quietly making their way up a dirt road. You may discover how different reality looks from its cinematic retelling.
The photograph shows four people: a middle-aged man, a teenage boy, and two younger men. They carry old rifles over their shoulders as they walk across a hillside in the Zagros Mountains. There is none of the urgency or spectacle usually associated with war films. Everything appears calm. If you did not know the story behind the image, you might assume they were simply heading into the mountains for a day of hunting or a routine excursion.
But another story is unfolding. Earlier that day, an American fighter jet had crashed in this region, and its pilot had survived by ejecting and parachuting into the rugged landscape below. Since then, different groups have been searching for him, and these four men are part of that search.
What makes the photograph memorable is the contrast between its subject and its atmosphere. On one hand, it is connected to a military incident filled with tension and uncertainty. On the other, the landscape seems indifferent to human conflict. Clouds drift across the sky, spring grass covers the slopes, and the shadow of a lone tree stretches across the ground.
Photographer Maryam Al-Momen Dehkordi captured this moment on April 4, 2026. It is not a photograph of combat. It is a photograph of anticipation – of people moving through the Zagros Mountains, scanning the distance, aware that somewhere among the valleys and rocky ridges, the American pilot may still be waiting to be found.
When the Sparrows Grow Anxious is now available in all formats.
Over the next week, we will be profiling some of the photographers whose work appears in the book, and reflecting on how their images contribute to its power, texture and witness.
We would particularly like to thank the IRNA news agency, which generously donated almost two thirds of the photographs used in the publication. We are also deeply grateful to the many individual photographers whose work has helped make the book such an exceptional production:
Ahmad Moeini Jam, Akbar Tavakkoli, Ali Sharifi, Bahram Bayat, Eshaq Aghaei, Mahmoud Farjami, Maryam Al Momen Dehkordi, Marzieh Mousavi, Marzieh Pourarab, Marzieh Soleimani, Mohammad Mahdi Pourarab, Mohammadrasoul Moradi, Mohsen Rezaei, Sadegh Miri and Sadra Nouri.
We continue with the work of Ahmad Moeini Jam.
A Broken Bridge, a Bloodstained Sizdah Bedar
At midday on Sizdah Bedar, the thirteenth day of the Persian New Year holidays, the sky over Karaj was clear and blue. Around Bridge B1 on the city’s northern bypass, families had gathered to spend the day outdoors. Some were sitting on the nearby slopes, others had spread picnic blankets, and children were playing in the open spaces beneath and around the bridge. A few hours later, the scene had changed completely.
In the photograph, part of the bridge has collapsed. Massive concrete beams are broken, and large pieces of concrete and metal lie scattered across the ground. Steel cables and structural elements have been damaged, while signs of fire and explosion are visible throughout the site. Beneath the bridge, where families had spent the holiday only hours before, there are now only traces of destruction and confusion.
The attack caught many people by surprise. Those in the area rushed to leave the scene. Items brought for a day of recreation were left behind—blankets, containers, and personal belongings that had been part of an ordinary holiday gathering but now lay among the debris.
In the background, the city of Karaj and the surrounding dry hills can be seen. In the foreground stands a structure that once carried thousands of people each day but is now severely damaged and partially collapsed.
The power of this image lies in the contrast it captures: a public holiday associated with nature, family gatherings, and leisure, set against the aftermath of destruction. More than a photograph of a bridge, it is a photograph of people whose ordinary day was suddenly interrupted by an event that transformed the landscape around them.
When the Sparrows Grow Anxious is now available in all formats.
