Book 750: Darius the Great Is Not Okay (Darius the Great #1) – Adib Khorram

As I mentioned in my monthly recap I discovered this when Sarah from Sarah Reads Too Much sat on an awards committee of some sort and they really liked this one (can’t remember if it won or not). I added it to my list then, but when I saw her talk about the sequel I knew I needed to bring it forward on my list.

I thoroughly enjoyed my very slow read of this. I probably wouldn’t have read it this slow, but life got in the way. I read a chapter or two at a time over two-ish weeks and it allowed me to luxuriate in Khorram’s rich descriptions and characters.

As much as I though this book would be about Darius and his crush on his first trip to Iran because of his grandfather’s illness, it wasn’t. It was all about relationships and specifically father-son relationships. Darius’ ability to find connection with his father after what he felt was years of what he assumed was distancing and favoritism while in a foreign setting was incredibly moving and showed great growth in his character throughout the novel.

Dad and I both took medication for depression. Aside from Star Trek—and not speaking Farsi—depression was pretty much the only thing we had in common. (Loc. 348)

The silence between us hung heavy with all the things we couldn’t say. All the things we knew without them being said out loud. (Loc. 1,844)

I wanted to make it better, but I didn’t know how. Sohrab had Father Issues. I suppose I had Father Issues too, though they paled in comparison. Maybe all Persian boys have Father Issues. Maybe that is what it means to be a Persian boy. (Loc. 2,689)

And then to draw the wider connection with Sohrab’s relationship with his own father it really shows the maturity he develops in the short time he’s away from his regular life. There is really something to be said about a teen character being able to make these connections and then to have a moment with his dad, that I purposefully haven’t highlighted, in which things are said without being said and acknowledged as okay when they’re ready to be said is wonderful.

The thing about Farsi is, it’s a very deep language: deeply specific, deeply poetic, deeply context-sensitive. (Loc. 262)

The other piece I found incredibly beautiful was Khorram’s use of Yazd (and Iran in general) as a character. Not only do you have the locals and the language, but you have the people Darius’ mother grew up with and the extended family and the sites that Darius compares to mythical Tolkien locales. And the food! I actually really liked that Khorram didn’t explain or define every single Farsi word or food. He did it if it was vital to the story, but he also didn’t necessarily give you a literal translation or a breakdown of the foods ingredients.

I never identified with a book more than when I read this line,

And fesenjoon is a hard food to love at first. It kind of looks like mud. Worse than mud, even: It looks like the sort of primordial goo that could generate new amino acids, which would inevitably combine to initiate protein synthesis and create brand new life forms. (Loc. 1,508)

When Tim first took me to the local Filipino restaurant and ordered dinuguan (chocolate meat) [Wikipedia link], this is probably how I would’ve described it. And that doesn’t even include the immediate ick-factor because it’s made with pork blood. It’s not too bad, but the texture of the sauce just doesn’t do it for me.

My biggest worry going into the book was that it would be driven by the mental health issues. I don’t think that’s a bad thing for books, but for me it’s not something I’m drawn too. I don’t necessarily want to read about the day-to-day minutiae someone with mental health issues faces, but I do like when a character has real life problems and they’re not swept under the table. Khorram did a great job walking this line not only with Darius, but with Darius’ father and the relationship of their both having depression and experiencing it in a foreign context with each other.

By far my favorite line/passage of the book was this one:

‘No one wants me here.’
‘Everyone wants you here. We have a saying in Farsi. It translates “your place was empty.” We say it when we miss somebody.’ I sniffed.
‘Your place was empty before. But this is your family. You belong here.’ (Loc., 2,132)

There was just something so beautiful about it. Not only because it’s Sohrab saying it to Darius and explaining what it means, but basically saying you are someone, you are an individual and you matter. It was just perfect in the moment and it stayed with me even a week or two after finishing the book.

Recommendation: What a wonderful read—if you haven’t read it yet, do it! It deals with some heavy issues, but in a way that it doesn’t overwhelm the story. Khorram’s use of Farsi and the location strengthened the book and the characters. I didn’t even touch on the adorkableness of Darius, from his many references to Tolkien’s work and Star Trek, but that definitely added a depth to his character and something even more for me to identify with!

Opening Line: “Steam belched and hissed. Sweat trickled down the back of my neck.”

Closing Line: “I’m great.” (Whited out to avoid spoilers, highlight to read.)

Additional Quotes from Darius the Great Is Not Okay
“Sohrab Rezaei contained multitudes.” (Loc. 2,319)

“I had stepped into a world of Elven magic. Into Rivendell, or Lothlórien.” (Loc. 2,715)

“Suicide isn’t the only way you can lose someone to depression.” (Loc. 3,139)

“I was hurting. And you were there. And I knew how to make you hurt as bad as me.” (Loc. 3,224)

“It was a nice kind of quiet. The kind you could wrap yourself up in like a blanket.”