Martyr!: A novel
A newly sober, orphaned son of Iranian immigrants, guided by the voices of artists, poets, and kings, embarks on a remarkable search for a family secret that leads him to a terminally ill painter living out her final days in the Brooklyn Museum. Electrifying, funny, and wholly original, Martyr! heralds the arrival of an essential new voice in contemporary fiction.
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Readers say *Martyr!* by Kaveh Akbar is beautifully written with poetic prose that deeply moves many, vividly exploring themes of trauma, addiction, a...
There was a lot going on in this book, but I appreciated the backstory on the main character and his family. The last 3-4 chapters, I believe, were so enticing that I couldn't stop listening! I had an inkling about the plot twist, but my mouth was still on the floor when I learned I was right.
Loved this book! So many sentences in here I want to save, and savor, and cry that I couldn't put words together like that. Pure genius.
Cyrus Shams is an Iranian American who grew up in Indiana with his father. When he was just a few months old and they were still living in Iran, his mother was on a plane that was shot down in a supposed accident by the American military. His grief-stricken father packs him up and starts a new life in America.
Cyrus grows up in the shadows of this loss and grief and even as a child has trouble sleeping and issues of depression. He is a poet and a writer but also an alcoholic and addict, in recovery. Again. He is searching for the meaning of life. He learns about an artist who is putting on her final show at Brooklyn Museum. She is dying, and she's going to share her dying with museum visitors. He decides he needs to go and meet her. He is inspired to write about martyrs, who have made a meaning of their life through death. He meets the artist, Orkideh, and she seemingly wants to talk to him longer than other visitors, asks him to come back. He comes back every day and is at once inspired and deflated by her.
Incredibly beautiful and heartbreaking, but also at times funny and entertaining. A masterpiece.
Cyrus Shams is an Iranian American who grew up in Indiana with his father. When he was just a few months old and they were still living in Iran, his mother was on a plane that was shot down in a supposed accident by the American military. His grief-stricken father packs him up and starts a new life in America.
Cyrus grows up in the shadows of this loss and grief and even as a child has trouble sleeping and issues of depression. He is a poet and a writer but also an alcoholic and addict, in recovery. Again. He is searching for the meaning of life. He learns about an artist who is putting on her final show at Brooklyn Museum. She is dying, and she's going to share her dying with museum visitors. He decides he needs to go and meet her. He is inspired to write about martyrs, who have made a meaning of their life through death. He meets the artist, Orkideh, and she seemingly wants to talk to him longer than other visitors, asks him to come back. He comes back every day and is at once inspired and deflated by her.
Incredibly beautiful and heartbreaking, but also at times funny and entertaining. A masterpiece.
Oof, this little book packs a punch. I’m so glad I jumped in blind! I saw Kaveh Akbar earlier this year when he was a facilitator at a John Green event. I thought he was absolutely captivating and knew I wanted to check this book out eventually.
Akbar is actually first and foremost a poet, and I feel like you can tell as you read this book. It’s written really beautifully, and there are many profound moments and thoughtful quotes to takeaway from this one.
Cyrus is fascinated by the idea of becoming a martyr. But not in a way that hurts other people, but just in a way where his death *means* something. Where perhaps, in death, he can do more good than he ever did in life. As a newly sober and orphaned young adult, he hasn’t particularly cared much for life anyway.
Yet, on his journey to decide how he will die righteously, he actually begins to find the beauty in life. He starts to see the possibility of becoming an “earth martyr,” as referenced by another awesome character in the book. And the book isn’t exclusively told from his POV. There are chapters which are flashback POVs of his mother and father, which were interesting additions.
I will say, this is one of the best books I’ve read about depression, addiction, suicidal ideation, grief, and other heavy topics, yet still felt “light” while reading it. It’s hard to describe, but it definitely lands in the dark humor category at times, and gives hope right when you think it’s starting to feel hopeless.
Well done, Kaveh! I look forward to reading more of your work!
Memorable Quotes:
“Eight of the ten commandments are about what thou shalt not. But you can live a whole life not doing any of that stuff and still avoid doing any good. That’s the whole crisis. The rot at the root of everything. The belief that goodness is built on a constructed absence, not-doing. That belief corrupts everything, has everyone with any power sitting on their hands.”
“Where does all our effort go? It’s hard not to envy the monsters when you see how good they have it. And how unbothered they are at being monsters.”
“He felt a flash of familiar shame—his whole life had been a steady procession of him passionately loving what other people merely liked, and struggling, mostly failing, to translate to anyone else how and why everything mattered so much.”
“At the intersection of Iranian-ness and Midwestern-ness was pathological politeness, an immobilizing compulsivity to avoid causing distress in anyone else…The old joke, that two Iranian men could never get on an elevator because they’ll just keep saying “you go,” “no you,” “no no please,” “I insist,” as the doors opened and closed. Midwestern politeness felt that way too, Cyrus learned, like it was burning cigarette holes in your soul. You bit your tongue, then bit it a little harder. You tried to keep your face still enough to tell yourself you hadn’t been complicit, that at least you weren’t encouraging what was happening around you. To you.”
Akbar is actually first and foremost a poet, and I feel like you can tell as you read this book. It’s written really beautifully, and there are many profound moments and thoughtful quotes to takeaway from this one.
Cyrus is fascinated by the idea of becoming a martyr. But not in a way that hurts other people, but just in a way where his death *means* something. Where perhaps, in death, he can do more good than he ever did in life. As a newly sober and orphaned young adult, he hasn’t particularly cared much for life anyway.
Yet, on his journey to decide how he will die righteously, he actually begins to find the beauty in life. He starts to see the possibility of becoming an “earth martyr,” as referenced by another awesome character in the book. And the book isn’t exclusively told from his POV. There are chapters which are flashback POVs of his mother and father, which were interesting additions.
I will say, this is one of the best books I’ve read about depression, addiction, suicidal ideation, grief, and other heavy topics, yet still felt “light” while reading it. It’s hard to describe, but it definitely lands in the dark humor category at times, and gives hope right when you think it’s starting to feel hopeless.
Well done, Kaveh! I look forward to reading more of your work!
Memorable Quotes:
“Eight of the ten commandments are about what thou shalt not. But you can live a whole life not doing any of that stuff and still avoid doing any good. That’s the whole crisis. The rot at the root of everything. The belief that goodness is built on a constructed absence, not-doing. That belief corrupts everything, has everyone with any power sitting on their hands.”
“Where does all our effort go? It’s hard not to envy the monsters when you see how good they have it. And how unbothered they are at being monsters.”
“He felt a flash of familiar shame—his whole life had been a steady procession of him passionately loving what other people merely liked, and struggling, mostly failing, to translate to anyone else how and why everything mattered so much.”
“At the intersection of Iranian-ness and Midwestern-ness was pathological politeness, an immobilizing compulsivity to avoid causing distress in anyone else…The old joke, that two Iranian men could never get on an elevator because they’ll just keep saying “you go,” “no you,” “no no please,” “I insist,” as the doors opened and closed. Midwestern politeness felt that way too, Cyrus learned, like it was burning cigarette holes in your soul. You bit your tongue, then bit it a little harder. You tried to keep your face still enough to tell yourself you hadn’t been complicit, that at least you weren’t encouraging what was happening around you. To you.”
Oh em gee — Incredibly beautiful, engrossing and touching book. Read this if you want to break wide open.
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