Kaveh Akbar’s novel “Martyr!” was one of The New York Times’ top 10 books of 2024, so, of course, a reporter interviewed him about it.
One sentence from the story describing Akbar gave me an idea: “An overachieving math and science nerd as a child, he also loved playing the word game Mad Libs by himself.”
So during our interview earlier this month, in advance of his free Jan. 28 talk at Indiana Landmarks, I asked him to play Mad Libs. He said, “Oh my God, yes, absolutely!” I gave him three themes: basketball playoffs, book-ish — and “If I were president.”
“Definitely not that one. Let’s do the basketball.”
That didn’t surprise me. Akbar, 36, went to high school and college in Indiana, and taught at Purdue University. (He now teaches at the University of Iowa.) He writes his characters as Pacers fans, and there’s even a dream sequence in “Martyr!” involving basketball legend Kareem Abdul-Jabbar.
Listen to Sophie and Kaveh playing Mad Libs.
Cyrus, the main character in “Martyr!,” has a few biographical similarities with Akbar. He’s an Iranian American man living in Indiana, and he’s an addict in recovery. And he’s fascinated by the idea of giving death meaning. In the book, Cyrus’ mother died in a plane crash when he was a child, and that death stays with him.
So when Cyrus hears about a performance artist named Orkideh, who’s living out the last weeks of her terminal breast cancer in a museum in Brooklyn, he flies out to visit her. Every day, he waits in a long line with other people who want to talk to her. But she challenges Cyrus, calling him “another death-obsessed Iranian man.”
When Akbar and I talked on Zoom, he was lying on the floor at his home in Iowa City, where he’s been recovering from a back injury. His sweatshirt hood was pulled over his new buzzcut. He made sure to pan the camera over to Galilee, a white dog with tiny black spots that he introduced as his assistant.
This conversation has been condensed and edited for clarity.
Akbar has degrees from Butler University and Purdue University. “Martyr!” is set in Indiana, and the main character Cyrus and his father Ali are fans of Reggie Miller and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. In the dream sequence, Ali and Abdul Jabbar play basketball.
So, our outlet’s called Mirror Indy, and we write about all things Indianapolis. So I’d love to start by talking about your connections to Indiana, and the ways that you mention it in “Martyr!”
The first question I want to ask is: You wrote Cyrus and his dad as Reggie Miller fans, Pacers fans. And I loved the way that you said, “Sports is a language everyone else spoke, so they learned it too.” Are you also a Pacers fan? Do you follow Indiana sports at all?
I’m actually a Milwaukee Bucks fan. When we came to America, we moved around a lot. But ages, I think four through nine, were spent in the Milwaukee area. That’s where all of my sports allegiances hardened, and so all of my favorite teams then remain my favorite teams.
That said, when I lived in Indiana, when I taught at Purdue, I split Pacers season tickets with my friend Adrian Matejka, who’s the editor of Poetry Magazine. I love rooting for the Pacers, so long as it doesn’t interfere with the Bucks.
Another Midwestern question: In one chapter, Cyrus dates Kathleen, a Republican who shops at Whole Foods instead of Aldi. When I read that, I laughed: “Okay, this is so Midwestern.” So how do years of living in the Midwest – in Indiana – impact you, your identity and what you write?
Good question. I am the composite of all of my histories and geographies and genealogies and languages. So much of that was formed and shaped and hardened in the American Midwest, especially in Indiana. And so it does feel like a very Indiana book to me.
I mean, it’s set in Indiana, largely, and there’s a university that bears a striking resemblance to a major university in the state of Indiana. But just as you point out, the sensibilities, the pathological politeness of the Midwest and the stores and the idioms and the gestures feel hardwired into my brain.
In “Martyr!”, Cyrus has an AA sponsor named Gabriel Bardo. He’s hard on Cyrus, but also like a father figure. In real life, Akbar credits Butler University English professor Dan Barden with helping him toward sobriety. Akbar has a master of fine arts from Butler’s creative writing program.
Akbar is a professor, too. He taught at Purdue University when Roxane Gay was also part of the department. Today, he is the director of the English and creative writing major at the University of Iowa.
I want to ask a little bit about (Butler University English professor) Dan Barden. A lot of my coworkers know him, and some have taken classes with him.
There’s a character in your book who bears some resemblance to him. The way he shows up in the book seems a little gruff or harsh, but you also seem really fond of him. So he’s a bit of an enigma to me. Tell me a little bit about your relationship with Dan, and what you’ve learned from him.
I have to be careful. I mean, it’s a work of fiction, right? There is no Dan Barden in the book. There, yes, there is a character in the book who…well, yeah, there is no Dan Barden in the book.
That said, Dan’s one of my best friends. My first book of poetry, “Calling a wolf, a wolf,” was dedicated to Dan.
So much of who I am is because Dan was kind to me when I could do him absolutely no good. And he’s a very, very particular character with a very singular idiom of affection. And I love him so much because of how earnest he is, and I hope that that is reflected in the book.
And now, you’re a teacher. What have you learned from your students in the past year?
That’s a beautiful question. They teach me to be curious, to be bewildered, to be baffled, to be earnest and excited about discoveries that happen in the page. To be permeable, so that when a discovery happens on the page, they might follow it back into their own minds, their own spirits, their own living.
In “Martyr!”, after Cyrus talks to Orkideh, the performance artist at the museum, he makes some hard discoveries and reckons with his grief. A character named Sang Linh tells him “You don’t have to do this gracefully.”
I read an interview you did with The Daily Iowan, because I love reading student journalism. They asked about your similarities to Cyrus, which you answered in a really interesting way – you said that you saw yourself in all of the characters of the book.
So I was thinking, “This almost would be like a conversation between parts of yourself.” Did it feel like that when you were writing Cyrus and Orkideh having conversations?
100,000%. Yeah, 100,000%. I mean, the novel as a technology is an incredible way of holding the megaphone up to different parts of your brain. It’s, it’s just like, what’s this lobe have to say? What’s this self have to say? And then you can put them in conversation with each other.
I think that if cognitive dissonance is negative and corrosive to one’s psychic well-being, then I’m doomed. Because I never have a thought without its opposite immediately rising in my mind.
At the end of the book, I was tearing up during the scenes where Sang is showing compassion to Cyrus and talking to him about grace. There’s so much wisdom there. Going back to the idea of having conversations with yourself, where does that wisdom come from?
Well, first of all, thank you for reading it so well. It’s not a small gift to be given, to have someone read your work earnestly. That gift of time and attention is the best thing you can give to an artist. Sincerely, thank you.
“Where does that grace come from?” is the nucleus of the atom. I mean, that’s, that’s the question at the heart of every other question.
You know, is it innate to the amino acids that make up our strands of DNA? Is it a capital-G God who sits on a cloud and looks like a Ken doll and gets mad when I lie? Is it? Is it just the benevolent thrust of the universe? Which would seem counter to our ideas of entropy, and the idea that things work less harmoniously as time moves forward. I don’t know. I don’t know. It is a delicious unknowing.
Akbar is married to Paige Lewis, a poet and the author of “Space Struck.” Lewis taught at Purdue and teaches at Iowa.
So, you’re married to another poet. What is that like? Do you read each other’s work? Do you edit it?
Yeah. Yeah, it rules. I recommend all your readers marry Paige Lewis at some point in their lives. It is awesome. I’m a huge fan of it as an enterprise.
They’re smarter than me, they’re nicer than me, they’re kinder than me toward animals.
They’re also just, like, deeply strange. I’ll watch them eat, and they’re like, “Isn’t it strange that I have to put these beans and rice on a fork, and then carry the fork into my mouth? And then I, like, chew them up with these bones, and then turn them into goo that will sustain (me)?”
And interested in systems that are not of them! So, you know, they are able to watch a bird or a squirrel like it’s a new episode of their favorite TV show. Watching them watch the world is an education.
I want to ask a little bit about your writing process. I love knowing what writers eat while they’re writing, what they listen to. So could you tell me that?
I don’t eat while I write. I like to write on an empty stomach. Or not empty, but just full of coffee. So I guess it’s not empty at all.
Mirror Indy reporter Sophie Young drinks peppermint tea with honey when she writes. Contact her at sophie.young@mirrorindy.org.
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