Goodreads blurb:
At the front of a middle school classroom in Oklahoma, a boy named Khosrou (whom everyone calls "Daniel") stands, trying to tell a story. His story. But no one believes a word he says. To them he is a dark-skinned, hairy-armed boy with a big butt whose lunch smells funny; who makes things up and talks about poop too much.
But Khosrou's stories, stretching back years, and decades, and centuries, are beautiful, and terrifying, from the moment he, his mother, and sister fled Iran in the middle of the night, stretching all the way back to family tales set in the jasmine-scented city of Isfahan, the palaces of semi-ancient kings, and even the land of stories.
We bounce between a school bus of kids armed with paper clip missiles and spitballs, to the heroines and heroes of Khosrou's family's past, who ate pastries that made them weep, and touched carpets woven with precious gems.
Like Scheherazade in a hostile classroom, author Daniel Nayeri weaves a tale of Khosrou trying to save his own life: to stake his claim to the truth. And it is (a true story).
But Khosrou's stories, stretching back years, and decades, and centuries, are beautiful, and terrifying, from the moment he, his mother, and sister fled Iran in the middle of the night, stretching all the way back to family tales set in the jasmine-scented city of Isfahan, the palaces of semi-ancient kings, and even the land of stories.
We bounce between a school bus of kids armed with paper clip missiles and spitballs, to the heroines and heroes of Khosrou's family's past, who ate pastries that made them weep, and touched carpets woven with precious gems.
Like Scheherazade in a hostile classroom, author Daniel Nayeri weaves a tale of Khosrou trying to save his own life: to stake his claim to the truth. And it is (a true story).
My thoughts: 4.5 Stars
Can we have a moment for this stunning cover?! “Everything Sad is Untrue” how oddly thought-provoking. Now having read it twice, I can safely say it's one of the best memoirs out there. Quite honestly, it's unlike anything I've ever read before. I know, I know. You've probably heard tons of book reviewers say the same thing! But once you read it yourself, you'll see what I mean. Let's start with the writing.
The memoir is written in the style of the famous 1,001 Nights. It's incredibly lyrical and intimate. Not only does it contain themes of deep loss, grief and faith- but humour too. If you haven't noticed already, I'm obsessed with Persian and Middle Eastern mythology, so I loved how he referenced them throughout. The author Khosrou (Daniel) Nayeri, shares his story within the Persian tale framework to help his classmates understand his culture and past. And in a way, he wanted to preserve the memories for himself. Khosrou was born in Iran to parents of a royal lineage. His family were a part of the “Sayyeds,” the very descendants of the Islamic Prophet Mohammed. Their royalty was defined by not only lavish wealth but their priestly blood. He starts by describing his home back in Iran and his earliest memories of his grandfather. At a glance, life was perfect for Khosrou.
Until it wasn't.
Khosrou's mom, a renowned physician, decided to convert herself to Christianity after having an
encounter with God. Being a Sayyed, converting meant treason- It meant death. And in doing so,
she lost everything.
Her career.
Her husband.
Her home.
Her safety.
Her freedom.
To protect herself and her children, they had to flee from Iran, leaving behind their Muslim father all by himself. Eventually, they ended up in America. Life as an immigrant is never easy, and the Nayeris were not exempted from the weight. Mama Nayeri was forced to work minimum wage jobs as a cashier. She married a Christian guy Ray and endured extreme domestic violence. The children Daniel and Dina had their own share of trauma too. Daniel was often bullied for being “Arab ”and stinky.
When I was four and wanted to cry, I knew they would laugh at me-what grief could a chubby toddler feel?—and I knew I could not run, so I would clench my fists and roll my eyes up to look at the ceiling as if maybe the tears would go back down into my eyes. I would stand in one place and tremble and wish the welling tears would just dry up. But tears are like genies. They will never go back into the bottle.
Minor events shape us. Call it a chain reactor or a domino effect, but that's what we see here in Khosrou's story. Everything Sad is Untrue is profoundly sobering. The experiences that Daniel and his family had gone through, are the reality for many immigrant refugees. What hurt me, even more, was the way the members of their own church treated them differently. The minister's son bullied both children and the pastor encouraged Mama Nayeri to remarry her abusive ex-husband Ray for the sake of stability. Yet through it all, they didn't waiver in their bravery or faith.
Why should anybody live with their head down? Besides, the only way to stop believing something is to deny it yourself. To hide it. To act as if it hasn't changed your life. Another way to say it is that everybody is dying and going to die of something. And if you're not spending your life on the stuff you believe, then what are you even doing? What is the point of the whole thing?
Mama Nayeri and Sima were beautiful examples of Matthew 5:10. Reading “Everything Sad is Untrue” was an intimate experience. I felt that young Khosrou was right in front of me, sharing his story as though he was Scheherazade herself. Highly highly recommend picking this coming-of-age memoir up, if you haven't already. Oh, and the audiobook is even better! Thank me later, haha.
.png)
