There are some books you finish. And there are some books you escape from. Not Without My Daughter belongs to the second category. Because while reading Betty Mahmoody's account, I kept thinking about one frightening question: What happens when the person you trusted most becomes the person you have to protect your child from? Betty travels from America to Iran with her Iranian-American husband, Moody, and their four-year-old daughter, Mahtob. It is supposed to be a

There is a particular kind of guilt that doesn't arrive with an accusation. It arrives disguised as concern. “Are you eating too much?” “You should lose some weight.” “You're getting too ambitious.” “Don't you think you should spend more time with the family?” “Why are you so sensitive?” And because the person saying it is often an aunt, a parent, a colleague, a friend—or simply someone who believes they are entitled to an opinion—we are expected to accept it as