We’re so excited to share that Daniel Nayeri has agree to come on the show for this series’ Q&A episode, so please feel free to direct questions to him if you’d like! Either way, post away below!
**Please note: We are still working out scheduling for this conversation so I don’t know exactly when we will record, but we will cover as many questions as we can.
My question is, “What happened next?” Did your mom finish her studies to be qualified as a doctor in the US? Did you ever see your dad again? What career did your sister pursue?
-Should readers question that the mom is the hero of the story (given that everything sad that happens to her kids stems from her choices to convert, put the giant cross in her car window, leave Iran, continue to be with Ray, etc)? (Full disclosure: I'm inclined to take the narrator at face value and see her as heroic. But I haven't any idea how I'd refute the opposite interpretation above.)
David mentioned that mothers really love the book. What do you think about the enthusiastic reception from mothers—seeing as as a group they were probably not your target audience? Also, you are known to be so incredibly generous with your readers. I especially love the story of you going into an unfamiliar library on a trip far from home. I think you needed to make photocopies? And in the back of the library there was an actual group of kids reading your book for a club. Legend has it that you surprised them in the meeting room and spoke with them. It must have been a thrill for the kids! Question: are you an extrovert? I can only picture extroverts doing this. And if so, how do you balance having the solitary time required for writing while also being a good husband and father AND engaging with readers who love your writing?
I truly enjoyed the style of this book, and it reminded me a lot of c.s. Lewis’ “the horse and his boy” - where it says “For in Calormen, story-telling (whether the stories are true or made up) is a thing you’re taught, just as English boys and girls are taught essay writing. The difference is that people want to hear the stories, whereas I never heard of anyone who wanted to read the essays.”
As I try to teach my western children the art of storytelling (and using those stories to teach truth- which is what made your book so memorable), are there any other books you recommend that aren’t mentioned in your memoir?
Thank you for coming on to talk with us about your beautiful book! My questions are: have you and your sister followed in your mother's footsteps to be a Christian? And can you tell us what everyone is doing now?
Something that has stuck with me about your incredible book is the way that you present your mom's conversion. It could easily have come across as "preachy" or evangelistic, and it could have just as easily come off as disdainful, as if she were silly for having done such a thing. But you managed to convey that your mom was simultaneously crazy and incredibly strong- you clearly have respect for what she did, but you're not necessarily turning this into a Sunday school lesson. I'd just like to hear if you found that difficult to balance, or if that came pretty naturally for you.
Last year,I selected this book to use for a guided discussion with teens. (They were very focused on poop.) To move their attention away from that topic, I asked them what you meant by “A patchwork memory is the shame of a refugee.”
I’ve never been a refugee, but I know that I have had the privilege of living my childhood memories through until I reached adulthood. (Sometimes I was an unreliable narrator of my own life and had to repent and be a better person.) If my childhood had been interrupted by such an uprooting as yours, I imagine my memories would become fragmented and unfinished.
That’s what we came up with.
What did you actually mean? And why did you choose the word ‘shame’?
This book makes me want to give 1001 Arabian Nights another try. When I tried it with my local book club a few years ago none of us could get through it, but I remember hearing some of the stories as a kid and enjoying them. What edition/book/version would you recommend? I’d be interested for recommendations from any and all of you!
This book is GORGEOUS. I love it so. We read it as a family and I told my children I would post "any question for Mr. Nairi" on the thread. So, here are my son's questions with no filter. Will, age 12, asked:
"How could your dad be so careless? And how was your mom so strong?"
I too loved this book. So much. So much I’ve decided it’s going to be my universal Christmas present for 2023! If I know you... you’re getting this book.
Which brings up the universality of this book. I think of my siblings, my aspiring-author-friends, my overseas-friends, my in-laws, my pastor-friends, my going-through-divorces friends--and I think, this book was written for them, for each of them. Question: Did Daniel have universality in mind when he wrote this book?
Second question: What is Daniel up to now? Considering writing any more memoirs?
I don’t know whether this is a thing to ask Daniel Nayeri or not, but I’m particularly interested in the question of truth in fiction as it relates to the character’s guilt and shame. He has building layers of guilt in every section of this Chinese box narrative (the bull, the baby owl, his mother getting caught in the church because of the chickpea up his nose, having to leave Iran, his parents splitting), and it all culminates in his father leaving. He comes to find out in the end that the foundational guilt he’s defined himself by is not a “true” memory. What does this book have to say about guilt and identity in memory?
As someone who grew up as an ethnic minority in the South, I just want to say how much I resonated with this book. It captures the cultural dissonance and inevitable feelings of isolation that many of us experience especially as children. My memories of these formative years are quite complicated as well, and I’m often compelled to recall them with a discomfort that I know will never quite go away but instead have had to come to terms with as making me who I am today.
I particularly loved the little moment when Daniel admits that Orich bars do in fact taste pretty much like Mounds, even though earlier in the story he firmly believes that there’s just something unexplainably different about Orich bars. It stuck out to me as being simultaneously funny, relatable, and poignant.
Out of curiosity, are there any flavors or foods that you associate with a certain memory or time in your life? For me there’s a specific brand of blueberry gum that my grandmother would always send from overseas, and whenever I taste it I’m taken right back to that feeling of childhood excitement of opening a special package during the holiday season. It’s so interesting how memory and taste have such a powerful connection.
I see several people have already asked about your writing process, so I'll try to make my question very specific.
Firstly, I want to say what a transformative experience reading your book was for me. It was equal parts enchanting and eviscerating in all the best ways. I was astounded by how succinctly you captured your unique stories while at the same time communicating them in such a way that tugged at the threads of universal truth and experience.
Would you mind saying a bit more about what that process looked like on a personal level? What tools did you use to separate yourself enough emotionally from your difficult experiences to share them with such candor? How has the crafting of these memories into stories changed the nature of them in your personal life? What was different experientially, if anything, in writing this book as opposed to "Straw House, Wood House, Brick House, Blow?"
I absolutely loved this book, which has the remarkable ability to touch children and adults alike. One of its singular features was its ability to focus a reader on the olfactory senses; I can’t think of a book that highlights smells, from the scatological to cuisine, as skillfully as this one. I’m curious how he developed that faculty and he can point to other authors who inspired that emphasis.
Mr. Nayeri (I feel like I should call you Khosrou, partly to make David have to say it on the air if my question gets read),
How did choosing to write your story from the perspective of yourself at 12 years old shape and change the process of writing it and the telling of it?
What might have changed if written from another perspective?
I have to add, I’ve never felt compelled to want to meet the author of any book before now, that I can recall, but you have told your story so honestly and beautifully - even with poop and blood! - and seemingly, wholeheartedly and graciously. It’s been a pleasure. Thank you for sharing yourself and for coming on the podcast.
A comment, not a question. I grew up in Israel with Persian Jews and now in Los Angeles with the largest Persian Diaspora. I had a Muslim Persian friend (since passed) who left because of ties to the Shah. I've said that Iran is an amazing culture and the only way to uproot so many people - and spread that culture around the world - was the awfulness of the Ayatollahs. So Irans loss has been our gain. I really loved the descriptions of Iran, especially the good, but also the bad. Yes, your food is incredible, I'm fortunate to have it here in LA, don't know if any of it stuck in Oklahoma. Btw, in the 70s there were college students in Oklahoma, but all left for greener pastures.
A small thing that has stuck with me since finishing the book last week is how Daniel introduces his sister's name as an aside when the book is nearly over, in her most heroic scene. Daniel, why did you choose to hold Dina's name back until the end?
My question is, “What happened next?” Did your mom finish her studies to be qualified as a doctor in the US? Did you ever see your dad again? What career did your sister pursue?
Mr. Nayeri, thank you for sharing your stories with us. Do you keep a journal now? Has your son read "Everything Sad is Untrue" yet?
I'm sure I'm too late on this, but here goes!
-Did you ever find Ali Shekari?
-Should readers question that the mom is the hero of the story (given that everything sad that happens to her kids stems from her choices to convert, put the giant cross in her car window, leave Iran, continue to be with Ray, etc)? (Full disclosure: I'm inclined to take the narrator at face value and see her as heroic. But I haven't any idea how I'd refute the opposite interpretation above.)
David mentioned that mothers really love the book. What do you think about the enthusiastic reception from mothers—seeing as as a group they were probably not your target audience? Also, you are known to be so incredibly generous with your readers. I especially love the story of you going into an unfamiliar library on a trip far from home. I think you needed to make photocopies? And in the back of the library there was an actual group of kids reading your book for a club. Legend has it that you surprised them in the meeting room and spoke with them. It must have been a thrill for the kids! Question: are you an extrovert? I can only picture extroverts doing this. And if so, how do you balance having the solitary time required for writing while also being a good husband and father AND engaging with readers who love your writing?
I truly enjoyed the style of this book, and it reminded me a lot of c.s. Lewis’ “the horse and his boy” - where it says “For in Calormen, story-telling (whether the stories are true or made up) is a thing you’re taught, just as English boys and girls are taught essay writing. The difference is that people want to hear the stories, whereas I never heard of anyone who wanted to read the essays.”
As I try to teach my western children the art of storytelling (and using those stories to teach truth- which is what made your book so memorable), are there any other books you recommend that aren’t mentioned in your memoir?
Thank you for coming on to talk with us about your beautiful book! My questions are: have you and your sister followed in your mother's footsteps to be a Christian? And can you tell us what everyone is doing now?
Something that has stuck with me about your incredible book is the way that you present your mom's conversion. It could easily have come across as "preachy" or evangelistic, and it could have just as easily come off as disdainful, as if she were silly for having done such a thing. But you managed to convey that your mom was simultaneously crazy and incredibly strong- you clearly have respect for what she did, but you're not necessarily turning this into a Sunday school lesson. I'd just like to hear if you found that difficult to balance, or if that came pretty naturally for you.
Last year,I selected this book to use for a guided discussion with teens. (They were very focused on poop.) To move their attention away from that topic, I asked them what you meant by “A patchwork memory is the shame of a refugee.”
I’ve never been a refugee, but I know that I have had the privilege of living my childhood memories through until I reached adulthood. (Sometimes I was an unreliable narrator of my own life and had to repent and be a better person.) If my childhood had been interrupted by such an uprooting as yours, I imagine my memories would become fragmented and unfinished.
That’s what we came up with.
What did you actually mean? And why did you choose the word ‘shame’?
This book makes me want to give 1001 Arabian Nights another try. When I tried it with my local book club a few years ago none of us could get through it, but I remember hearing some of the stories as a kid and enjoying them. What edition/book/version would you recommend? I’d be interested for recommendations from any and all of you!
This book is GORGEOUS. I love it so. We read it as a family and I told my children I would post "any question for Mr. Nairi" on the thread. So, here are my son's questions with no filter. Will, age 12, asked:
"How could your dad be so careless? And how was your mom so strong?"
I too loved this book. So much. So much I’ve decided it’s going to be my universal Christmas present for 2023! If I know you... you’re getting this book.
Which brings up the universality of this book. I think of my siblings, my aspiring-author-friends, my overseas-friends, my in-laws, my pastor-friends, my going-through-divorces friends--and I think, this book was written for them, for each of them. Question: Did Daniel have universality in mind when he wrote this book?
Second question: What is Daniel up to now? Considering writing any more memoirs?
Since writing this book, by any chance have you learned what happened to Ali Shekari? I would love for the serendipity of books to reconnect you!
Also, what thoughts did you have behind the decision to have no chapter breaks in this book?
I don’t know whether this is a thing to ask Daniel Nayeri or not, but I’m particularly interested in the question of truth in fiction as it relates to the character’s guilt and shame. He has building layers of guilt in every section of this Chinese box narrative (the bull, the baby owl, his mother getting caught in the church because of the chickpea up his nose, having to leave Iran, his parents splitting), and it all culminates in his father leaving. He comes to find out in the end that the foundational guilt he’s defined himself by is not a “true” memory. What does this book have to say about guilt and identity in memory?
As someone who grew up as an ethnic minority in the South, I just want to say how much I resonated with this book. It captures the cultural dissonance and inevitable feelings of isolation that many of us experience especially as children. My memories of these formative years are quite complicated as well, and I’m often compelled to recall them with a discomfort that I know will never quite go away but instead have had to come to terms with as making me who I am today.
I particularly loved the little moment when Daniel admits that Orich bars do in fact taste pretty much like Mounds, even though earlier in the story he firmly believes that there’s just something unexplainably different about Orich bars. It stuck out to me as being simultaneously funny, relatable, and poignant.
Out of curiosity, are there any flavors or foods that you associate with a certain memory or time in your life? For me there’s a specific brand of blueberry gum that my grandmother would always send from overseas, and whenever I taste it I’m taken right back to that feeling of childhood excitement of opening a special package during the holiday season. It’s so interesting how memory and taste have such a powerful connection.
I see several people have already asked about your writing process, so I'll try to make my question very specific.
Firstly, I want to say what a transformative experience reading your book was for me. It was equal parts enchanting and eviscerating in all the best ways. I was astounded by how succinctly you captured your unique stories while at the same time communicating them in such a way that tugged at the threads of universal truth and experience.
Would you mind saying a bit more about what that process looked like on a personal level? What tools did you use to separate yourself enough emotionally from your difficult experiences to share them with such candor? How has the crafting of these memories into stories changed the nature of them in your personal life? What was different experientially, if anything, in writing this book as opposed to "Straw House, Wood House, Brick House, Blow?"
Thank you so much for your work and your stories!
Have you considered a companion cookbook and if not... could you?
I absolutely loved this book, which has the remarkable ability to touch children and adults alike. One of its singular features was its ability to focus a reader on the olfactory senses; I can’t think of a book that highlights smells, from the scatological to cuisine, as skillfully as this one. I’m curious how he developed that faculty and he can point to other authors who inspired that emphasis.
Mr. Nayeri (I feel like I should call you Khosrou, partly to make David have to say it on the air if my question gets read),
How did choosing to write your story from the perspective of yourself at 12 years old shape and change the process of writing it and the telling of it?
What might have changed if written from another perspective?
I have to add, I’ve never felt compelled to want to meet the author of any book before now, that I can recall, but you have told your story so honestly and beautifully - even with poop and blood! - and seemingly, wholeheartedly and graciously. It’s been a pleasure. Thank you for sharing yourself and for coming on the podcast.
A comment, not a question. I grew up in Israel with Persian Jews and now in Los Angeles with the largest Persian Diaspora. I had a Muslim Persian friend (since passed) who left because of ties to the Shah. I've said that Iran is an amazing culture and the only way to uproot so many people - and spread that culture around the world - was the awfulness of the Ayatollahs. So Irans loss has been our gain. I really loved the descriptions of Iran, especially the good, but also the bad. Yes, your food is incredible, I'm fortunate to have it here in LA, don't know if any of it stuck in Oklahoma. Btw, in the 70s there were college students in Oklahoma, but all left for greener pastures.
A small thing that has stuck with me since finishing the book last week is how Daniel introduces his sister's name as an aside when the book is nearly over, in her most heroic scene. Daniel, why did you choose to hold Dina's name back until the end?
I’d love to know a little about his writing process! How does he set out to weave these stories together?