When I set out to write The Chronicles of Durajan, I knew the story I wanted to tell. I knew the themes I wanted to explore. I knew the emotional and spiritual questions that had been living in me for years, waiting for a world where they could finally find expression.

But nothing prepares you for the moment when readers begin to tell you what the work actually is, not as you intended it, but as it is experienced.

Over the past month, I’ve had conversations, messages, calls, and long reflections from readers who have shared how this story has reached them. And those exchanges have shown me something I didn’t quite expect:

This book may sit in the “Epic Fantasy” category, but what people are taking from it goes far beyond genre.

‍What Readers Are Seeing in Durajan

I’ve had someone tell me that the book reminded her of her grandfather’s stories, tales of Indigenous life, migration, loss, resilience, and the fragile lines of memory that pass through generations.

She spoke about how the novel made her reflect on the fading connections to her culture and on what it means to honor those stories before they slip away. That conversation stayed with me. It still does.

Others have shared how the narrative stirred thoughts about their upbringing, their family histories, and the ways trauma, faith, hope, and identity shape who we become. One reader told me that the world felt “so real, so human” that it forced him to examine his own views on faith and belief.

Another has touched on it having an earthbound sense of the sacred where worship grows from culture, memory, loss, and longing. 

And again and again, people have said:

“This isn’t a story about a hero. It’s about a world and its people.”

“I wish I could live there.”

“It made me think.”

That is the kind of response no author can plan for. It is something you can only hope for.

What the Book Is: Beyond Genre

The Chronicles of Durajan must be categorized as Epic Fantasy, but the conversations I’ve had recently have shown me that the work is also something more, something I had dreamed it might be, but only readers could confirm.

The best language for what this book has become comes from the kinds of thematic descriptions readers themselves have echoed:

• ‍Mythic & Literary‍
  
  • A literary epic fantasy about exile, faith, and the forging of a new people, where memory becomes sacred, and the human spirit becomes myth.‍
• Anthropological & Cultural‍
  
  • An epic fantasy rooted in cultural rebirth and spiritual awakening, blending anthropology, myth, and the intimate struggles of those who seek a home after devastation.‍
• Emotional & Philosophical‍
  
  • A sweeping epic that asks what it means to rebuild not just a world, but a self, and how ordinary people become legends by surviving what should have broken them.‍
• Religious & Sacred‍
  
  • A story that explores how belief takes shape in a world beginning again, and where the gods, rituals, and traditions feel lived-in and natural, not distant or ornamental. Where belief is less about doctrine and more about the deeply human need to understand, to honor, and to remember.

‍A Quiet, Unexpected Breakthrough

Research says it takes years for an author five to ten years to break through, if we’re being honest about the long arc of this work. I’ve read that, and I believe it. But something happened in these early weeks that feels like its own kind of breakthrough: People saw themselves in the story, felt something and carried the world with them after they closed the book.

That is a different kind of success. A quieter one. But for me, it may be the most meaningful one. I am humbled by every person who has reached out. Grateful for the conversations. These conversations have energized me, inspired me, and deepened my commitment to the larger arc of this series and to the work that lies ahead.

If this is the beginning, then I am hopeful for what comes next and profoundly thankful for everyone who has taken the time to share their experience of Durajan with me. Because in the end, meaning doesn’t come from intention, it comes from connection. And that is a gift.