To all the Zuhdis—my family—none of this book, or me, would be possible without you.
Dr. Rashid Karadaghi, honorary uncle and brilliant scholar, a man who wrote the most comprehensive Kurdish-English dictionary—I am lucky to have known you my whole life, and your assistance in helping with translations (and so much more) was invaluable. Dear reader, please know that any mistakes I’ve made are my own.
My heartfelt thanks to photographers Randall Michelson and Diana Lannes. You both are immensely talented, and, Randall, the time you took from your day to answer my annoying photography questions was so valued. Again, any mistakes are my own.
Lucy Carson, agent extraordinaire—I can honestly say this book would never have happened if it were not for you. You pushed me to write the novel you knew I had in me. For the time you spent caring for this story, for your faith, and for so much more, I am eternally grateful. And my editor, Alicia Clancy, along with everyone at Lake Union, this book has benefited from your eye and intuition and enthusiasm, and I am so, so very appreciative. To say I’m lucky to work with such wonderful people is an understatement.
Stephanie Stephens, who might have read this book as many times as I have—after everything, I can’t believe you still like this story (or me!). Thank you for so much. And Becarren Schultz, my supportive and loving cousin and reader, I feel like I won the relative lottery with you in my life. I also want to endlessly thank the talented author Meg Howrey—this book benefited from your wisdom and caring, as did I. Sieglinde and Ralph, you two made Kurdistan even more memorable and meaningful. I’m so glad I got to share the journey with you.
Though I mentioned my father already, my mother also deserves enormous praise and thanks. Mom, thank you thank you thank you, not just for your insight and memories of being an American woman in 1979 Kurdistan but for your support and love. You’ve fought for me and believed in me, and I love you. As well, a shout-out to my brother, Kam. Who’d have thought that your petting a sheep (as was the theory) and getting so sick all those years ago would end up in a novel? Stay safe, brother.
To Joe, my husband. None of my writing would be possible without you. Thank you for you, my eternal partner. And to my son, Maximiliaen. In your brown eyes, I see the family that we come from, and in your heart I see their strength and love. You are kind, smart, and a constant wonder to me. Your spirit makes me proud. Never stop seeing the beauty in the world.
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
What, if anything, surprised you about the Kurdish culture?
At the beginning, Olivia wonders, “Is it possible to truly know someone if you cannot comprehend that which made them who they are? Can one truly love another without that understanding?” What do you think? Do you believe being from such different worlds is surmountable?
Though she wants to go to Kurdistan, in some ways she’s driven to go in order to not live a life dictated by fear. Is there something you’ve done that you were afraid to do and had to push yourself to do? Or something you wish you’d done but didn’t?
Olivia likes to “find the start of things” for the big elements of her life. Do you do the same? What are some surprising “roots” you’ve found?
What do you think of Delan’s realization that he’d stayed away from his family in order to “love them a little less”? Does it make you think less of him, or is it something you understand?
Delan believes that in love transitions to love and that you both love someone for who they are but also despite who they are. Do you agree?
Olivia grapples with the moral side of taking photographs, feeling at one point that it’s “human sightseeing.” What did you think of her debate, and would you have the same qualms?
It’s Olivia’s belief that Delan saved them with one small act of kindness. Do you have a moment in your life that you believe similar? A time when an act of compassion had big ramifications?
Olivia thinks that “place can build or break a heart just like a person.” Do you have a place you feel this way about?
Do you agree with Olivia that “pain inspires,” and if so, do you think people subconsciously or consciously afford more credibility to people who’ve “been through so much”? In the same vein, do you think that people get “passed off” just because they’re happy?
The fight that they have before the picnic is centered on whether “moving on” (in this case, after the bombing) is the best way to try to handle traumatic situations or if it’s callous. Did you find yourself agreeing with either character more than the other?
What do you think the title Take What You Can Carry ultimately refers to?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Gian Sardar was born in Los Angeles, California. Her father is from Kurdistan of Iraq, and her mother is from Minnesota. She studied creative writing at Loyola Marymount University, is the author of the novel You Were Here, and is the coauthor of the memoir Psychic Junkie. Gian’s work has appeared in the New York Times and Confrontation Magazine and on Salon.com, among other places. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband, son, and insane dog, and she enjoys gardening, cooking, and other forms of procrastination. For more information, visit www.giansardar.com.
