Reviews

Darius der Große fühlt sich klein by Adib Khorram

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cipotalectora's review against another edition

4.0

I loved the quiet. Even if it sometimes made me think of sad things. Like whether anyone would miss me if I was dead. I sipped my tea and breathed in the jasmine and wondered if anyone would be sad if I was killed in a car accident or something. That’s normal. Right?

I have a confession to make: adult romance burns me out.

It’s pretty easy for me to find an enjoyable enough (3-stars) book that, while it won’t stick with me for the long run, it did the job of providing entertainment and making me forget the world around me for a little bit. I don’t avoid books specifically (some authors, yes, for reasons), but the overall execution is what matters. Regardless, of course, my common criticisms are common for a reason. I’m not gonna get really in-depth about this. All I wanna say is that I love the genre a lot, but always reading the same things or being disappointed for the same reasons over and over again gets tiring. And sure, it’s my fault for how my reading tastes are and how I analyze the books, but that’s how reading is—there has never been a time when everybody has felt the same about a book. Reading is subjective, and that’s the beauty of it.

That’s why I turn to YA sometimes, and even then, sometimes I just wanna read about characters facing different challenges without romance being at the forefront or a theme at all. Instead, we see them deal with their personal problems in different ways, challenging each other individually, and taking down the obstacles in their ways, without worrying about something like a relationship and having petty misunderstandings. That’s why I turned to Darius the Great Is Not Okay—because I still wanted a queer fictional story, so I found one of a teenage boy allowing us to follow his journey. And his journey was an emotional one, full of self-doubt, bullying, insecurities, mental health struggles, family issues, fitting in, adjustment, cultural shocks, and most of all, finding new love in your own people.

Darius is an incredible narrator and protagonist. He’s a teenager dealing with a couple issues at his high school, including the traditional ones many face, like bullying, teasing, racism/discrimination, insecurity, mental health (specifically depression), and family issues. Darius’ depression is a core theme of the novel, and we see him face it every day in different ways. Not only is this an OwnVoices in how the author also has depression, but it shows how different it is for everyone. We witness Darius have an internal struggle with himself and his family leading to unfortunate thoughts. For most of the time, Darius doesn’t really know how to cope, at least not directly. He simply keeps going until he feels like he no longer can, and it all leads to him almost facing difficult dilemmas. Mental health isn’t always visible, and Darius’ is only one example of it. The author really shows the emotional turmoil Darius faces throughout almost the entire novel. Even during moments of happiness, Darius goes back to struggling. There are a lot of heartbreaking scenes, but one that really stuck with me is when Darius thinks he’s being selfish because he didn’t want to share Star Trek with his sister, because that was his time with his father.

Allow me to be a little personal here.

This reminded me of a time I traveled to another state to go to a concert with a friend. We had planned it all, so everything was looking good until plans had to change. The day I arrived, everything was fine–we hung out as much as we were able to, walking downtown, laughing until 3 am, and hanging around the city. The next day, the day of the show, she calls me in the morning and tells me she got in a car accident. The first thing I felt was anger. Anger at herself for getting in that. Then I reflected on that, and felt scared for her, and hoped she was okay, telling her to call me or update me as soon as she can. I wasn’t able to do much, being in my hotel and not having a car, but I really was only a phone call away. Hours later passed, and I knew we would not be able to go to the show anymore. I didn’t feel comfortable going alone, and I didn’t want to pay so much for a lift, so I stayed in the hotel. All day. I cried so much, and I hated my friend at that moment. I was so mad at her.

I felt so selfish.

Selfish because I only thought about myself when my friend was dealing with a car crash. I felt selfish because I was thinking about my money while my friend had to worry about hers to deal with the insurance and everything else. I felt selfish because she could have gotten really hurt and I was over here crying because I couldn’t go to a show.

But I also reflected on it, and I realized I felt that way because I’m only human, and unfortunately my emotions got the best of me then and there. It made it worse because she told me we were still going to be able to go to the concert, so I got my hopes up and only thought the best. Hours kept passing, and I had to call a friend on FaceTime to vent how I was feeling because I couldn’t stand the silence of not knowing how my friend was.

More stuff happened. Time passed. I’m not goint to go in full detail about this. What I’m trying to say here is that: Sometimes selfishness is necessary. It’s selfishness for a reason. We use what we can to get over ourselves, to let our emotions go. I don’t think selfishness always means a bad thing. I think it really depends. We’re all human, and we’re all egotistic in some ways, and we all have some sort of greed. It doesn’t mean we’re all narcissistic, or that we all only care about ourselves. I just think feeling a certain way in that specific moment is valid, and as long as we reflect on how and why we felt the way we did, I don’t think it’s going to make us the villain forever. I reflected on how I felt later, when my friend texted me three days later as I was in another state to see that same band I was gonna see with her but with another friend (I saw the artist two times, although three times was the original plan–once in Colorado, then Kansas, and then Ohio. If you live in the U.S., you’ll know). We text again now, and she’s really the one who reached out. I admitted to her how I felt. I didn’t wanna hide it from her, but I didn’t know how to tell her about it. Some shitty things happened, but fortunately all is good now. We text and talk as we always did before, and we’re back to being close like before. There was a small break we went through, but I think it was necessary. It doesn’t mean we stopped being friends, but I was still upset with what happened, while also being worried about her.

This is a personal reflection, but I thought about that day and night as I was reading about Darius feeling selfish. I don’t think he’s a bad person for the way he felt. I loved that he acknowledged it anyway, and he reflected on how he felt, but I thought his feelings were completely valid. He had something with his dad, and he felt like it was stolen from him, especially since it was a thing between them. As he said, it was a time for them to be son and father. In fact, personally, I felt bad for Darius, and I hated how his dad didn’t see the issue with it. You can really see how Darius struggles with his relationship with his dad, but his depression as a whole. I thought the author wrote it incredibly well, especially on a surface level, because we really get to see the invisibility of the illness, despite it being something Darius has been struggling with for a while. It consumes the reader, just as it consumes Darius, showing the intricate difficulties of mental health. It affects his every day thoughts, makes him feel less worthy of himself, and even makes him grieve his past life.

“You’re okay,” he murmured.
“No. I’m not.”
“I know.” He rubbed my back up and down. “It’s okay not to be okay.”

The author also dives into the complex relationship between an individual and their connection to their culture. In this case, Darius struggles with his connection to his roots and ancestry. He’s half Persian, but he never learned Farsi completely, so his vocabulary is lacking and he can only understand some words. Even though I’m not Iranian, the story doesn’t focus on what or who Iranians are as a whole, but instead who Darius and his family are. I appreciated this route, as it allows the author to not only still add his personal connection to it, him being Iranian-American, but there’s really no room for stereotypes or false beliefs of what Iranians are set to be. I can’t comment on anything related to religion, language, and even places, but I will comment on how realistic the portrayal of Darius feeling not Persian enough. It’s authentic and heartbreaking, as he wanders two different worlds that don’t exactly accept him—he’s not Persian enough for his family in Iran, and he’s not American enough because of his Iranian background. This is so common for children of immigrants (even something I still face), and it goes to show how conflicted children can feel. Darius is stuck on both sides, unknown to the unjust conflict he has to face for being one and one. I didn’t think this story would make me cry, so I was surprised a little when I sobbed uncontrollably for 20 pages straight (for anyone curious, I read the hardcover version of this so the pages were 275-300). I always have to give it to the authors for being able to write such poignant scenes. Touching, moving, powerful, heartbreaking—you name any adjective and synonym related to poignant, and that’s how I felt.

I was a big fan of the friendship between Darius and Sohrab. Sohrab was born and raised in Iran, and is kind of like a family member. He becomes Darius’s best friend, and their friendship grows as Sohrab invites Darius to play soccer together, shows him a little of Yazd, shows him new cultural aspects, listens to Darius when he’s upset, and go to each other’s houses. Their friendship is in innocent, full of a couple firsts for Darius, since he’s never really had a friend like Sohrab. They share differences yet get along well. Their fights are realistic for teenagers, yet are solved maturely. They learn from their past, move forward, and let it go. I loved how close they became, to the point where Sohrab was able to read Darius well. He’s friendly and gets along with everyone, but he understands Darius on another level. He’s caring, respectful, and understanding, never showing a sign of impatience or annoyance with Darius. He also never made Darius feel like he wasn’t Persian enough or that he [Sohrab] was more Persian than Darius.

“Darioush. You remember what I told you? Your place was empty?”
“Yeah.”
“Your place was empty for me too,” he said. “I never had a friend either.”

There is nothing but platonic love between them, even though we slowly see Darius get certain reactions from Sohrab, but nothing is ever done. While the story is marketed as LGBTQ+, this is not a romance, and it’s better that way. Darius’ sexual orientation is never clarified in this installment, but we get an idea of who he is through his interaction with Sohrab that get him to feel different things at certain times. Regardless, there’s never any implication of anything. Please do not read this thinking it has romance or a love story when that has no relevance to the story.

Since the story is a coming-of-age story, Darius’ development takes time. There are a lot of ups and downs he goes through, both mentally and physically, showcasing a difficult situation that requires patience and time. Throughout his time in Iran, he comes face to face with more complexities. He doesn’t think he’s enough for his father, he hates how he’s not Persian enough, he has just made his first (actual) friend, bullies also exist in Iran just like they do in Portland, his mother is slowly grieving, and he’s unsure about his relationship with his grandparents. The portrayal of it all is raw with emotion, as Darius faces a journey of coming to love his background and become curious about it, as well as not understanding why he can’t be enough. He faces a dilemma that he still hasn’t solved when the story ends, but the progression he made shows his character growing. He’s getting used to having a best friend, his relationship with his dad isn’t as strained, and he’s facing new challenges in his life he’s working to overcome.

The writing is sharp yet robotic. I think this is a strong key point of the novel, as it makes the tone of it much more interesting. With Darius having depression and mental health being at the center of his role, the relationship between him and the writing is vivid. It’s not colorful nor colorless—it’s melodic but a little mechanical as well, which I thought made sense since the tone isn’t exactly on the optimistic side. It felt fitting; sharp to create emotion but robotic to show the exhaustion. It’s easy to read yet sometimes difficult to get through. Every statement is full of emotion, whether negative or positive, and carries with it the same weight Darius is holding.

The story of Darius is only one example of why I still read YA and want to go back to reading these kinds of stories. With powerful and necessary themes surrounding the story, Darius the Great Is Not Okay delves deep into mental health, new friendships, and the embracement of your ancestral roots.

hunterh's review against another edition

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emotional medium-paced

Plot- or character-driven? Character
Strong character development? Yes
Loveable characters? Yes

3.5

jenmangler's review against another edition

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3.0

The friendship between Darius and Sohrab is so beautiful and is my absolute favorite part of this book. Darius has, for the very first time, someone with whom he can be truly himself. I also appreciate how deftly Khorram handled Darius's depression, especially how it relates to his complicated relationship with his father. Darius getting to know his Iranian family and appreciate his Persian heritage is so moving. Getting to go on the journey with Darius as he becomes comfortable with himself is very satisfying.

jazzybooks's review against another edition

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emotional hopeful

4.0

neonthereader's review against another edition

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emotional lighthearted medium-paced

Plot- or character-driven? Character
Strong character development? Yes
Loveable characters? Yes
Diverse cast of characters? Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus? No

3.5

sarahboudereads's review against another edition

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4.0

4.5/5
Oh fuck. YA do still be hitting hard.
I saw so much of myself in Darioush, this persan teenage boy with clinical depression - I cried and I cried reading about his relationship with his dad and how much they relate to one another even though they can't understand each other. What a good book. What a good portrayal of clinical depression too.