Darius the Great Is Not Okay, by Adib Khorram

A couple of years ago my daughter, then fifteen, read this book (twice, I think). She promised I would love it too. I finally got around to it, and she was right. I do–for so many reasons.

To start with, the plot spans Portland, Oregon, and Iran. Twenty-five-and-some years ago Persian language brought my husband and me together in Portland; we still live in Oregon. We later spent two years in the Persian-speaking country of Tajikistan, during which time we were able to travel for a week in Iran. It was the trip of a lifetime (we still hope to go back someday).

But there’s much to love about Darius, even if you’re not a Persophile. In many ways, it’s a father-son story. Darius is a sixteen-year-old Iranian-American who, like his dad, suffers from depression. Unlike his dad, whom he terms the ubermensch, or superman, he has not yet succeeded in finding his place in society. Darius is plagued by cringe-worthy bullies who lose no opportunity to make fun of his name, his ancestry, his job in a tea shop (Darius loves tea), and anything else that presents itself.

Darius is convinced that he is a disappointment to his father and that his little sister, who speaks Persian, unlike Darius, was conceived to make up for his deficiencies. Darius is, nevertheless, a model brother to sister Leyla–enough to make me wish I’d had an older brother myself (and to wonder how many model brothers are actually out there).

When they learn that Darius’s maternal grandfather has only a short time to live, the whole family packs up and takes off for three weeks in Iran–Darius’s first visit to the land of his mother’s birth. While there he makes a best friend, connects with his grandparents for the first time in person, and ponders whether he has anything in common with the eponymous Darius the Great.

I loved revisiting sites in Iran, like the ruins of ancient Persepolis. But tossed in amongst the Persian words and food and holidays are enough references to Star Wars and Lord of the Rings to satisfy aficionados of those fandoms as well. Ultimately, though, what I loved best about this book were the heart-warming images of reconciliation and acceptance, family members finding and being real with one another.

In the summer of 2022 we visited Istanbul and Tajikistan for the first time in more than a decade, and I told my family I’m sure my place in heaven is going to be in the Turko-Persian sector. I’m tempted to do a DNA test; those genes must be in there somewhere.