Chapter 18: 'Friday' — Summary, Themes, and Analysis

⚠️ Spoiler Warning: This guide contains detailed spoilers for the entire novel. Proceed only if you've finished reading or are comfortable knowing the plot.

Summary

Chapter 18 opens with Cyrus Shams leaving the Brooklyn Museum and walking through Prospect Park, still carrying Orkideh's words in his mind like an invisible halo. Her distinction between wanting not to be alive and wanting to die—and her reference to "earth martyrs" and "Persian checkboxes"—continues to orbit his thoughts. As he walks, he finishes a Coke and bends down to tie his dark blue canvas Vans, a pair he replaces every six months when the soles wear through. He reflects on his habit of ordering identical replacements online and wearing the new ones on wet days to break them in, while using the old holey ones only on clear days, a practice he compares to rich white men driving topless convertibles to flaunt their capital.

Cyrus sees his worn shoes as flaunting something else: his authenticity, his class antipathy, and his allegiance to the proletariat. Yet he acknowledges the contradiction that these "ratty flags" are made by a billion-dollar shoe company, and he concedes that there is no ethical consumption under late capitalism. He tries not to think too much about these contradictions. His roommate Zee has worn the same pair of forest-green camouflage Crocs for two years, calling fashion "a capitalist weapon." Cyrus sees his sneakers as a quieter political cousin to Zee's Crocs, and he likes not having to think about what to put on his feet. He thinks to himself that a martyr wears simple footwear.

Nearby, a woman lifts a blunt to the lips of a copper bust of John F. Kennedy while a friend photographs her. Cyrus tries to be better about noticing such moments and feeling grateful for the texture and specificity they lend his life. He recalls Orkideh's question: "And you want to end this book about martyrs with yourself?" He wonders if he does. He wants to sit on a park bench and get something to eat.

Cyrus then reflects on gratitude. He believes that a hyper-focus on occasions for gratitude would make his eventual death more poignant and valuable. He reasons that a sad-sack who hates life gives up nothing by dying, whereas lifting yourself out of a life you enjoy—with tea still warm and honey still sweet—constitutes real sacrifice. He considers making this an essential quality in his book: leaving behind a life you care about. He acknowledges he has a decent life—cheap rent, friends, books he is excited to read—but some days it all feels abstract and meaningless. He often weeps for no reason and bites his thumbs until they bleed; some nights he lies awake until morning, frightening sleep away with the desperation of wanting it.

He then worries that the idea of gratitude is possibly classist. He imagines a poor Syrian child whose life has been shaped by the murderous whims of evil men. Does she qualify for grace only if she possesses a superhuman ability to notice the beauty of a flower growing through rubble? Would her gratitude be contaminated by awareness of the bodies turning to soil beneath it? He wonders which would weigh more on cosmic scales: a tear of gratitude at a flower lifting through ash, or a tear of delirious rage. He considers whether the experience of gratitude is itself a luxury, a topless convertible driven through a rainless life. Even platitudes offered after tragedy—"In time, you'll remember only the joy"—seem built on the expectation that gratitude is a base level to which one returns after grief.

Cyrus recalls Orkideh's words: "Another death-obsessed Iranian man." He reflects on the unforgivable vanity of fantasizing about one's own death, as if continuing to live were a given that needed to be disrupted inorganically. He wonders whether it is messed up to imagine a dead Syrian child as a foil to his relative fortune, as a prop in his psychic play about the ethics of gratitude. He wants to ask Orkideh what she thinks about gratitude broadly. Much of his psychic bandwidth is taken up with conflicting thoughts about political prepositions—the morality of almond milk, the ethics of yoga, the politics of sonnets. He hates late capitalism, as everyone is supposed to, but it is a hate that makes nothing happen.

He wants to be on "the right side of history," but more than that, he wants other people to perceive him as someone who cares about being on the right side of history. He notes that it is hard to imagine an earth martyr who was also a fervent eugenicist or supported Mussolini; being on the right side of history seems a bedrock feature of the people he is interested in. Finally, Cyrus remembers that Orkideh had been barefoot in the museum. That suddenly seems significant. He leans over, unties his sneakers, and walks three blocks back to the subway station.

Key Events

Cyrus leaves the Brooklyn Museum and walks through Prospect Park, reflecting on Orkideh's comments about earth martyrs and the distinction between wanting not to be alive and wanting to die.
He finishes a Coke and ties his dark blue canvas Vans, which he replaces every six months; he reflects on the political symbolism of his worn shoes.
He observes a woman lifting a blunt to the lips of a copper bust of John F. Kennedy while a friend photographs her.
Cyrus contemplates the ethics of gratitude, imagining a Syrian child finding beauty in a flower amid rubble, and questions whether using that child as a foil is wrong.
He reflects on his preoccupation with late capitalism and his desire to be perceived as being on the right side of history.
He remembers Orkideh was barefoot in the museum, unties his sneakers, and walks to the subway station.

Character Development

This chapter deepens Cyrus's internal conflict between his intellectual ideals and his lived reality. He is acutely aware of the contradictions in his own consumption—wearing shoes from a billion-dollar company while claiming class antipathy—yet he tries not to think about them. His reflection on gratitude reveals a genuine struggle: he wants to believe that leaving a life you enjoy is more meaningful sacrifice, but he also recognizes the potential classism in demanding gratitude from those who suffer more. His admission that he wants others to perceive him as caring about the right side of history shows a self-awareness that borders on self-critique. The chapter also highlights his death obsession, which Orkideh has labeled as vanity. His decision to untie his shoes at the end suggests a tentative, physical response to Orkideh's influence—a small act of shedding the trappings of his usual self-presentation, perhaps in an attempt to connect with her barefoot authenticity.

Themes, Symbols, or Motifs

Martyrdom and sacrifice: Cyrus's belief that giving up a life you enjoy is more meaningful than giving up a life you hate directly ties to his book project and to Orkideh's notion of "earth martyrs."
Wanting not to be alive vs. wanting to die: This distinction, introduced by Orkideh, frames Cyrus's entire meditation on death and gratitude.
Gratitude as classist luxury: Cyrus's extended thought experiment about the Syrian child questions whether gratitude is a privilege of those who have not suffered extreme hardship.
Late capitalism and ethical consumption: Cyrus's reflection on his Vans and Zee's Crocs illustrates the impossibility of ethical consumption under late capitalism, and his hatred of the system that makes nothing happen.
Authenticity and performance: Cyrus's worn shoes are described as "ratty flags" flaunting his authenticity, but he also admits he wants to be perceived as caring about the right side of history, revealing the performative nature of his political identity.
Simple footwear as symbol: The contrast between Cyrus's Vans, Zee's Crocs, and Orkideh's bare feet underscores different approaches to rejecting capitalist fashion and seeking authenticity.
The right side of history: Cyrus's desire to be on the right side of history, and to be seen as such, becomes a recurring motif in his self-examination.

Why This Chapter Matters

Chapter 18 is a pivotal interior monologue that crystallizes Cyrus's central preoccupations as he prepares to write his book about martyrs. It directly engages with Orkideh's critique of him as a "death-obsessed Iranian man" and forces him to confront the vanity of his own fantasies. The chapter also introduces the ethical dilemma of gratitude, which becomes a key theme in his thinking about martyrdom and sacrifice. By ending with Cyrus untying his shoes, the chapter suggests a subtle shift in his behavior—a small, physical acknowledgment of Orkideh's influence and perhaps a step toward a more authentic engagement with the world. This chapter matters because it deepens our understanding of Cyrus's character and sets up the philosophical questions that will likely drive the rest of the novel.

Study Questions and Answers

1. What does Cyrus's decision to untie his sneakers at the end of the chapter signify?

Cyrus's act of untying his shoes is a deliberate, physical response to his memory of Orkideh being barefoot in the museum. Throughout the chapter, he has been reflecting on authenticity, class, and the performance of political identity. His worn Vans are symbols of his claimed allegiance to the proletariat, but they are also products of a billion-dollar company. By untying them, he momentarily sheds that symbol and moves closer to Orkideh's barefoot state, suggesting a tentative attempt to embrace a more direct, unmediated form of authenticity—or at least to acknowledge the limits of his own performative gestures.

2. How does the scene with the woman and the JFK bust relate to Cyrus's thoughts on gratitude?

Cyrus observes the woman lifting a blunt to the lips of a copper bust of John F. Kennedy while a friend photographs her. He notes that he is trying to be better about noticing such moments and feeling grateful for the texture and specificity they lend his life. This scene serves as a concrete example of the kind of everyday, absurd beauty that Cyrus wants to appreciate. However, it also complicates his thoughts on gratitude: the act is playful and irreverent, yet it is also a moment of connection to history and public memory. Cyrus's attempt to feel grateful for this moment contrasts with his later worry that gratitude may be a luxury, highlighting the tension between his desire to appreciate life and his awareness of systemic suffering.

3. Why does Cyrus question whether it is "fucked up" to imagine a dead Syrian child as a foil to his fortune?

Cyrus uses the imagined Syrian child to test the ethics of gratitude: he wonders whether a child who has suffered immense hardship can be expected to feel gratitude for a flower amid rubble, and whether such gratitude would be contaminated by the awareness of death. He then realizes that he is using this child as a prop in his own psychic drama about the ethics of gratitude. This self-awareness reveals his discomfort with the way he instrumentalizes the suffering of others to work through his own philosophical questions. It also connects to his broader concern about being perceived as being on the right side of history—he wants to be a good person, but he recognizes that his own thought processes may be self-serving.