Letter from Tehran Ramita NavaiThe traffic around north Tehran is worse than usual. Hundreds of battered Hillman Hunters, blacked-out jeeps and souped-up Peugeots are locked bumper to bumper, pointlessly hooting their horns. But for once, this strange tangle of cars is crawling towards the same destination - Tehran's annual international book fair is the hottest event in town.
Foreign books in the Islamic Republic are expensive and rare. Iranians travel from towns and villages across the country to buy, or just browse through books from around the world, on offer at government subsidised prices.
The English-language book hall is one of the most popular. The small stalls are besieged with crowds and there is a scrum to get to the books. But amid this melee, opposite the Oxford University Press stand is an incongruous sight - a computer beams horrific war images to a soundtrack of machine-gun fire and above hangs a poster of Palestine. This is Hamas, the militant Palestinian organisation, and it is the only stall with no customers.
"We are here because all Muslim brothers want to help fight until the last Israeli has been kicked out of Israel," says 23-year old Mohammad, a Hamas volunteer worker.
Unfortunately for Mohammad, the Muslim brothers of north Tehran are more interested in the Design and Architecture stand, where a group of girls have descended in a wave of skin-tight jeans, bubble-gum pink headscarves and lashings of make-up. The book fair is not only about buying books and Tehran's youth are out in full force.
"We have to grab every opportunity we can to meet girls," says 21-year-old Arash, ostensibly flicking through a coffee table book on Le Corbusier.
But it was not always like this - last year the Hamas stand was packed.
"The organisers made a mistake this year - we should actually be in the Arabic hall as most of our books are in Arabic. By the time we found out we'd been put here they told us it was too late to change, there was no more space left," says Mohammad.
Although they have sold fewer books this year, Mohammad says that T-shirts of Sheikh Ahmed Yassin, Hamas's late spiritual leader, have been flying off the shelves, as have replica suicide bomber headbands.
"But our bestsellers have been a poster of a woman suicide bomber and a book on women's role in the intifada and one on women suicide bombers - a very popular theme this year," says Mohammad.
Just around the corner, business has also been slow for Islamic Jihad. Their pièce de résistance - a CD-Rom called "Martyrdom-Seeking Operators" - has been facing stiff competition from Sesame Street's Big Bird next door.
But there is more action at the impressive camouflage-decked stand of the Lebanese Shia organisation, Hizbullah, with its minimalist banners and shining glass cabinets packed with grenades and rusty machine guns.
A Hizbullah representative is on hand to guide visitors through the mock war zone, past the gigantic posters of rocket launchers - "the Israelis are scared to bits of those babies" - towards its gleaming white bookshelves, with books on agricultural projects. "This is part of an image change. We want to let people know that Hizbullah isn't all about war, you know. We build hospitals and help communities."
As part of its rebranding, Hizbullah has expanded into the world of multimedia. Website addresses are emblazoned on flags and they even have computer games to lure the children: "Resistance Boy: The Boy from Quds (Jerusalem)", where the object is to shoot down Israeli missiles and planes.
Hizbullah says that interest has been high, even from the middle class kids who head straight to the English-language hall in search of Western culture.
"The name Hizbullah can put people off a bit, but when they see the booth, they want to come and have a look and find out more."
But Arash and his friends are not impressed.
"I've got my own problems to deal with. I didn't come here for politics," he says.
"I came for books." And with that he winks, tucks an Albert Camus under his arm and is off, trailing a new pack of girls.