The Kite Runner By Khaled Hosseini
It's been a while since I've been this frustrated with a main character... Hardcover
Sad stories make good books.
I became what I am today at the age of twelve, on a frigid overcast day in the winter of 1975.
There are two types of books, usually, that makes one feel like there are no words to describe the experience: They are either unbelievably detrimental, or exceptionally (and positively) impactful. Given the overall high rating, it is redundant to tell, to which category does The Kite Runner belong. I don't think there are that many books, especially fiction, that could leave such a profound effect on a reader's mind.
People say that eyes are windows to the soul.
Time can be a greedy thing - sometimes it steals all the details for itself.
What I loved the most about this book is the set of characters. Hosseini has done an amazing job developing them, which increases the emotional impact of the plot tenfold. Especially, it's remarkable how well he handled the first person protagonist, Amir. The traditional 'do wrong, then atone, conclude with happy ending' is not the way with The Kite Runner, but utilizes an attempt to direct Amir towards a path of atonement, while sticking to a more realistic ending. Had it not been for Hosseini's unique narrative, Amir's character could have turned far more contemptible. Luckily, for me, it was never the case. Many would probably love the secondary characters more, but it is important to remember that it was the protagonist's undistorted, self-criticizing account of the events that made it that way. It's not a perspective you see everyday, but I loved it.
It always hurts more to have and lose than not have in the first place.
I was perfectly satisfied with the pace of the story, including the intermittent jumps in time Hosseini used to separate the book in to a few main parts. Each of these parts had their own theme going on, while introducing an occasional twist to keep things interesting. The only minor complaint I have is about the attempt at creating a villain. Even though it introduced a tiny bit of mystery to the plot, that particular part felt a little out of harmony with the rest.
That's the real Afghanistan, Agha sahib. That's the Afghanistan I know. You? You've always been a tourist here, you just didn't know it.
The writing style is somewhat simple, but I believe most readers would be too absorbed in the plot to notice it. If anything, it felt more appropriate, reducing distractions from the flow of the story. But the plot, and the characters make up perfectly for any other shortcoming in my opinion. I wouldn't call this an emotional rollercoaster, for, the majority of the emotions include regret, disappointment, sadness, fear, anger, privation but very little happy ones. But all this helped the book become more moving. I usually don't enjoy books with sad endings but this one was definitely an exception, and worth all the heartbreak.
Better to get hurt by the truth than comforted with a lie.
Before starting the book, based on almost all the reviews, I knew this was a sad story. But with fiction, if and when things get too depressing, a reader could always be consoled by the fact that this is, after all, fiction. It's easier attributing everything to being not real, and proceed from that safe spot. You're no going to find that solace here. If anything, unless we are fooling ourselves, the severity of reality has been lessened to make it more bearable. But I guess that's the whole point. That's what makes this deliver a profound reading experience. It enables all readers to understand, to empathize, and be considerate towards others. Kite Runner easily made it to my All-time-favorites and I believe this should be read by everyone.
'For you, a thousand times over!' he said. Then he smiled his Hassan smile and disappeared around the corner.Hardcover The Kite Runner, 2003, Khaled Hosseini
The Kite Runner is the first novel by Afghan-American author Khaled Hosseini. Published in 2003 by Riverhead Books.
It tells the story of Amir, a young boy from the Wazir Akbar Khan district of Kabul, whose closest friend is Hassan.
The story is set against a backdrop of tumultuous events, from the fall of Afghanistan's monarchy through the Soviet military intervention, the exodus of refugees to Pakistan and the United States, and the rise of the Taliban regime.
عنوانهای چاپ شده در ایران: «بادبادک باز»؛ «بادبادک پران»؛ نویسنده خالد حسینی؛ تاریخ خوانش در ماه مارس سال دوهزاروپنج میلادی
عنوان: بادبادک باز؛ نویسنده: خالد حسینی؛ مترجم زیبا گنجی؛ پریسا سلیمانزاده اردبیلی، مشخصات نشر تهران، مروارید، 1383، در 422ص؛ شابک9645881927؛ موضوع داستانهای نویسندگان ایالات متحده آمریکا - سده 21م
عنوان: بادبادک باز؛ مترجم: مهدی غبرائی؛ مشخصات نشر تهران، نشر همراه، 1384، در 456ص؛
عنوان: بادبادک پران؛ مترجم: منیژه شیخ جوادی؛ مشخصات نشر تهران، پیکان، 1385، در 383ص؛ شابک 9789643284953؛
عنوان: بادبادک باز؛ مترجم: مهدی غبرائی؛ مشخصات نشر تهران، نیلوفر، 1386، در 368ص؛ شابک 9644482972؛
عنوان: بادبادک باز؛ مترجم: صدیقه ابراهیمی؛ مشخصات نشر تهران، دایره، 1387، در 393ص؛ شابک 9789646939694؛
عنوان: بادبادک باز؛ مترجم: مژگان احمدی؛ مشخصات نشر تهران، بهزاد، 1388، در 331ص؛ شابک 9789642569410؛
عنوان: بادبادک باز؛ مترجم: پیمان اشراقی؛ مشخصات نشر تهران، نگارستان کتاب، 1389، در 508 ص؛ شابک 9786005541557؛
عنوان: بادبادک باز؛ مترجم: سمیه یداللهی؛ مشخصات نشر تهران، شهرزاد، 1389، در 376ص؛ شابک 9786001710421؛
عنوان: بادبادک باز؛ مترجم: رقیه فیروزی؛ مشخصات نشر قم، رخ مهتاب راتا، 1392، در 338ص؛ شابک 9786007076026؛
عنوان: بادبادک باز؛ مترجم: حسین بخشی؛ مشخصات نشر تهران، آوای مکتوب، 1393، در 368ص؛ شابک 9786007364055؛
داستان از زبان «امیر» روایت میشود، «امیر» نویسنده ای اهل «افغانستان» و از تبار ایل «پشتون» و ساکن «کالیفرنیا» هستند، که برای نجات یک بچه، راهی «افغانستان» میشوند؛ افغانستانی که در تحت حاکمیت «طالبان» است، و یکی از دشوارترین دورانهای تاریخ چند هزار ساله ی خویش را سپری میکند، و به بهانه ی همین سفر «امیر» به «افغانستان»، ایشان داستان زندگی خویش را نیز برای خوانشگر بازگویی میکنند
نقل از متن کتاب: (ناراحت شدن از یک حقیقت بهتر از تسکین یافتن با یک دروغ است
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حسن اینطوری بود؛ لعنتی آنقدر بی غل و غش بود که پیش او آدم همیشه حس میکرد ریاکار است
**
بابا گفت: «خوبه.» اما نگاهش حیران بود؛ «خب هرچی ملا یادت داده ول کن، فقط یک گناه وجود دارد والسلام؛ آن هم دزدی است - البته برخی هم آن یک گناه را دروغگویی میدانند؛ هر گناه دیگری هم نوعی دزدی است؛ میفهمی چی میگویم؟» مایوسانه آرزو کردم و گفتم کاش میفهمیدم؛ و گفتم «نه بابا جون»؛ نمیخواستم دوباره ناامیدش کنم.؛ بابا با بی حوصلگی آهی کشید؛ با اینکار دوباره دلم را سوزاند، چون او اصلاً آدم بی حوصله ای نبود؛ یادم آمد که تا هوا تاریک نمیشد، هیچ وقت به خانه نمیآمد، همیشه ی خدا تنهایی شام میخوردم؛ وقتی میآمد خانه، از «علی» میپرسیدم بابا کجا بوده؟ هر چند خودم خوب میدانستم که سر ساختمان بوده، سرکشی به این، نظارت به آن؛ مگر این کارها حال و حوصله نمیخواست؟ از تمام آن بچه هایی که داشت برایشان پرورشگاه میساخت متنفر بودم؛ گاهی وقتها آرزو میکردم، کاش همه ی آنها با پدر و مادرهایشان مرده بودند؛ بابا گفت «اگر مردی را بکشی، یک زندگی را میدزدی؛ حق زنش را از داشتن شوهر میدزدی، جق بچه هایش را از داشتن پدر میدزدی؛ وقتی دروغ میگویی، حق کسی را از دانستن حقیقت میدزدی.؛ وقتی تقلب میکنی، حق را از انصاف میدزدی، میفهمی؟) پایان نقل از متن کتاب
تاریخ بهنگام رسانی 19/05/1399هجری خورشیدی؛ ا. شربیانی Hardcover WOW! This book was beautiful, exquisite.
This book follows the story of a rich boy named Amir who grows up playing with his buddy Hassan who is the son of his father's servant. This story is one of friendship, betrayal, love, redemption, and family.
There were so many different twists in this book that I never saw coming. It was also so real that I had to Google, Is The Kite Runner based on a true story? If you are wondering, no, it is not.
Honestly, this book was so moving and beautiful that I was crying at multiple spots in the book. It would be hard to convey how much I love this book. Even typing this review, I am tearing up. Love in real life is not a Hallmark movie or a Lifetime show. Even people we love let us down and disappoint from time to time. The world doesn't always give us an easy hand in life. However, this author perfectly depicted imperfect characters who were doing their best.
If you need a read, this book is it. It is captivating and page turning. It will rumble your soul.
2023 Reading Schedule
Jan Alice in Wonderland
Feb Notes from a Small Island
Mar Cloud Atlas
Apr On the Road
May The Color Purple
Jun Bleak House
Jul Bridget Jones’s Diary
Aug Anna Karenina
Sep The Secret History
Oct Brave New World
Nov A Confederacy of Dunces
Dec The Count of Monte Cristo
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Khaled Hosseini - image from The Washington Post
This is a wonderful, moving novel set in the Afghanistan of the early 70’s and of today, about a young boy and his friend growing up in Kabul. Amir desperately wants his father’s approval, but Baba is not quick to give it. He is a rich man, brimming with macho vibrancy, while his son is a different sort altogether. Amir is fast friends with Hassan, the son of his father’s servant. They are as close as brothers. But, beset by bullies, an event occurs that changes Amir’s life. There is much death and horror in this portrait of a tortured country. But there is also emotional richness, and a look into the inner life. By the end of the book there was not a dry eye in the house. It is recommended unreservedly. A wonderful tale, movingly told. Hardcover
Due to the large number of negative comments I've received, including death wishes, I've added the following request:
Please do not take this review (or yourself) too seriously when reading it.
I became what I am today at the age of twenty-nine, on a frigid overcast day in the winter of 2008.
What I am about to tell you about what I became is going to be very shocking. It is going to manipulate your emotions. It may include some random words in my native language for no reason whatsoever. It will teach you unnecessary things about my culture. It will not be smarter than a fifth grader. And it will include as many cliches and as much foreshadowing as is humanly possible.
You are going to be shocked. I, for one, never saw it coming. So I doubt you will. Get ready. Aren't you so ready to be shocked? You're never going to see this coming.
What comes next is the big revelation, so get ready!
Wait, I need to ask you something first. Did you know that the Irish like potatoes? Yeah, we really enjoy them. And alcohol too. It's pretty great. Erin Go Bragh! This means Ireland Forever! Unfortunately, you will be very sad to know that my father just died due to an Irish car bomb. Well, about 15 of them to be exact. All on an empty stomach! It makes me sad and you should feel sad too, kind reader.
Ok, on to the big reveal. Here it is:
On that frigid overcast day, which happened to be the day that I decided to quit reading The Kite Runner, I became a book snob.
Because The Kite Runner is adored by most people who read it, I am forced to conclude that most people need to read more. A whole lot more. You should be embarrassed if you like this book. Seriously. The moment I became a book snob (shortly after The Scene), I became so embarrassed to be seen reading it that I accused the guy sitting next to me on the subway of putting the book on my lap while I wasn't paying attention. How dare you, sir! Have you no decency? I exclaimed excitedly in my native language. Then I noticed a monkey on the platform waiting to board a train. I quickly hopped off my train, ran to him, handed him the book, and said Top O' the Mornin' to ya! Enjoy!
Later that day, I saw that monkey flying a kite in front of the Washington Monument. I noticed that the glass string wasn't making his hands bloody. Do you know why? He was wearing gloves.
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Please note that I have absolutely no appreciation for life and reality.*
*Bart Bondeson, who claims to be a better person for having read this book, suggested that I make this clarification to my review. Thanks for the suggestion, Bart! Hopefully that clears things up for those who were wondering. Hardcover This is the sort of book White America reads to feel worldly. Just like the spate of Native American pop fiction in the late eighties, this is overwhelmingly colonized literature, in that it pretends to reveal some aspect of the 'other' culture, but on closer inspection (aside from the occasional tidbit) it is a thoroughly western story, firmly ensconced in the western tradition.
Even those tidbits Hosseini gives are of such a vague degree that to be impressed by them, one would have to have almost no knowledge of the history of Afghanistan, nor the cultural conflicts raging there between the Shia and Sunni Muslims, or how it formed a surrogate battleground for Russia and the United States in the Cold War, or for Colonial conflicts in the centuries before. Sadly, for all the daily news reports about Afghanistan, most people know very little of its history.
Hosseini's story is thickly foreshadowed and wraps up so neatly in the end that the reader will never have to worry about being surprised. Every convenient coincidence that could happen, does happen. He does attempt to bring some excitement to the story with dramatized violence, but that's hardly a replacement for a well-constructed plot. He is also fond of forcing tension by creating a small conflict between two characters and then having them agonize over it for years, despite the fact that it would be easy to fix and the characters have no reason to maintain the conflict. And since the conflict does not grow or change over time, everything is quickly reduced to petty and repetitive reactions.
He even creates a cliched 'white devil' character, a literal sociopath (and pedophile) as the symbol for the 'evils' of the Taliban. This creates an odd conflict in the narrative, since one of the main themes is that simple inequalities and pointless conflicts stem from Afghan tradition, itself. His indelicate inclusion of wealthy, beautiful, white power as the source of religious turmoil in the mid-east negates his assertion that the conflicts are caused by small-mindedness.
The fact that this character seems to have the depth of motivation of a Disney villain also means that he does not work as a representation of the fundamental causes of colonial inequality, which tend to be economic, not personal. The various mixed messages about the contributors to the ongoing Afghan conflict suggest that Hosseini does not have anything insightful to say about it.
Perhaps the worst part about this book is how much it caters to the ignorance of White America. It will allow naive readers to feel better about themselves for feeling sympathy with the larger mid-east conflict, but is also lets them retain a sense of superiority over the Muslims for their 'backwards, classicist, warlike' ways. In short, it supports the condescending, parental view that many Americans already have about the rest of the world. And it does all this without revealing any understanding of the vast and vital economic concerns which make the greater mid-east so vitally important to the future of the world.
It is unfortunate that nowhere amongst this book's artfully dramatized violence and alternative praising and demonizing of the West is there the underlying sense of why this conflict is happening, of what put it all into place, and of why it will continue to drag us all down. The point where it could turn sympathy into indignation or realization is simply absent.
There is a bad joke on the internet showing a map of the world with the mid-east replaced by a sea-filled crater with the comment 'problem solved'. What this map fails to represent is that there is a reason the West keeps meddling in the affairs of the mid-east, and that every time we do, it creates another conflict--because almost every group who we decry as terrorists now were originally trained and armed by the US and Western powers to serve our economic interests.
As long as we see extremists as faceless sociopaths, we can do nothing against them. We must recognize that normal people fall down these paths, and that everyone sees himself as being 'in the right'. Who is more right: the Westerner whose careless bomb kills a child, or the Muslim's that does?
The point shouldn't be to separate the 'good Muslims' from the 'bad Muslims', because people aren't fundamentally good or bad. They are fundamentally people. Almost without exception, they are looking out for their future, their children, and their communities. Calling someone 'evil' merely means you have ceased to try understanding their point of view, and decided instead to merely hate because it's easier to remain ignorant than to try to understand.
This book isn't particularly insightful or well-written, but that is in no way unusual in bestsellers. The problem is that Americans are going to use this book to justify their ignorance about the problems in the east. This book will make people feel better about themselves, instead of helping them to think better about the world.
For an actually insightful, touching view of the Afghan conflict, I would suggest avoiding this bit of naive melodrama and looking up Emmanuel Guibert's 'The Photographer'. Hardcover In 2012, when I was Mathematics teacher at a private high school in Iran, I had an Afghan student in my class. Sometimes, I discussed with my students about literature, and I told them of novels and poem. I found it very strange that my students had no interest in literature and even sometimes looked with hostility to this discussion. Days passed and much time was left to the end of school year. One day I saw Ali, Afghan student, came to me and had a booklet in his hand and I saw in his eyes several times as if he wanted to say something, but he was quiet. I waited for a little, and after a few moments, I began to speak. He smiled, and with a special Afghan accent, he said I have written a story, sir and became quiet again. I said it's excellent! , and I asked, do you read books? . Yes, sir, he replied. I asked, what kind of books do you like? . Mark Twain and John Steinbeck and Jules Verne, he answered. I asked what you have written? He replied I wrote a story about a 13 years old Afghan boy who immigrated to Iran. I got his booklet, and I read it in a week. It was a dark story. A week later, we discussed again after class. Ali invited me to go his house at night for reading books. I was pleased, and I greeted this plan. When night arrived, I took the kite runner and went to Ali's home. When I entered the house, I saw a house with mud walls that has no rooms, except a small hull that there was a table in the middle of it and almost nine children were dining. Of clothes of Ali's father, it was obvious that he was a building worker and he welcomed me very sincerely. I thanked him, and I went to the storehouse in the corner of the yard that Ali had made it, a place to be alone. Ali took the book and with incredible passion began to read. This process was repeated almost every night for a week, and we have read half of the Kite Runner. Among pages of the book, Ali informed me about Afghanistan, explained of how twenty people, entered Iran with a small car, illegally and secretly. Of how his classmates ridiculed him because of his Afghan accent, of how he was forced to work in a brick burner factory all days after the school, of how his dad has forced him to marry at the age of 13 in the summer. Then Ali proceeded to speak that he wants to be a writer and prizes the Nobel award. I saw in his room that he had Ferdowsi, Omar Khayyam, Hafiz and Rumi's book poem. When I looked at his face, I saw an unusual man who was ahead of his time and situation. Ali said, because Afghans have been banned of the registration in public schools in Tehran, he is forced to register in a private school, and now he and his mother must work hard to pay school charges.
The next week, I went to class, but I didn't see Ali. When I asked the guys about him, they replied that because his father hadn't citizenship card and passport, he was arrested, and all of them have deported to Afghanistan. I was agitated that I couldn't continue reading Kite Runner never. Even I felt so depressed and sad when I saw the book in bookstores. Until this spring, after three years, I got a message in WhatsApp messenger from Ali, that congratulated teachers day to me. He was written that he married to a girl who was in love with her and they have a two months old girl baby. He was written he is working at a bookstore in Kabul and he has read almost thousand books in three years. He was written they have the 4G Internet in Kabul and I replied him, it's supposed to we have 4G in Tehran as well, soon! When I received the message, I could reread the Kite Runner. It was a great book, especially for me, recall nostalgia of tired immigrants and unfavorable circumstances.
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سال 1391 زمانی که معلم ریاضی حق التدریس یه دبیرستان خصوصی شده بودم یه دانش اموز افغان هم سر کلاس داشتم ..هرازگاهی به بهونه های مختلف بحث رو به ادبیات میکشوندم و از رمان و شعر برای بچه ها میگفتم .. برام خیلی عجیب بود که بچه های کلاس هیچ علاقه ای به ادبیات نشون نمیدادن و گاهی حتی با دید تمسخر هم به قضیه نگاه میکردن.. روزها میگذشت و زمان زیادی به پایان سال تحصیلی باقی نمونده بود.. یک روز بعد از پایان کلاس دیدم علی محصل افغان , اومد کنار میز من و تووی دستش یه دفترچه داشت و تووی چشاش دیدم که چندبار انگار میخواست حرفی بزنه اما سکوت کرد.. کمی صبر کردم و بعد از چند لحظه سر صحبت رو باز کردم.. لبخند زد و با لهجه افغانی خاصش گفت اقا من یه داستان نوشتم .و سکوت کرد.. گفتم خیلی عالیه.. پرسیدم. کتاب هم میخونی? گفت اقا بله..گفتم چی میخونی? جواب داد مارک تواین و جان اشتاین بک و ژول ورن.. گفتم چی مینویسی ..جواب داد یه رمان نوشتم درباره یه پسر سیزده ساله افغان که به ایران مهاجرت کرده. دفترچه رو از علی گرفتم و تووی یک هفته خوندم. داستان غمگین بود. یک هفته بعد دوباره بعد از کلاس با هم صحبت کردیم. علی من رو دعوت کرد که شبها به خونه شون برم و کتاب بخونیم. خب خیل�� از این پیشنهاد خوشحال شدم و استقبال کردم. شب کتاب بادبادک باز رو برداشتم و رفتم . وارد خونه که شدم دیدم یه خونه با دیوارهای کاهگلی که هیچ اتاقی نداره بجز یه پذیرایی که وسطش یه سفره انداخته بودن و هشت نه تا بچه کوچیک داشتن غذا می خوردن. پدر علی که از لباسهاش مشخص بود یه کارگر ساختمونی هست با گرمی خاصی از من استقبال کرد. من تشکر کردم و با علی رفتیم به سمت انباری کوچیکی که گوشه حیاط بود و علی از اون یه جایی برای تنها بودنش درست کرده بود. علی کتاب رو از من گرفت و با شعف خاصی مشغول خوندن شد.. تقریبا یک هفته هر شب این جریان تکرار می شد و ما نیمی از بادبادک باز رو خونده بودیم. علی لابلای صفحه های کتاب برام از افغانستان میگفت از این که چطور بیست نفر با یه سواری وارد ایران شدن ازینکه چطور بچه های کلاس اون رو بخاطر لهجه افغانی مسخره میکنن از این که عصرها بعد از مدرسه مجبوره تووی کارگاه اجر پزی کار کنه. از اینکه پدرش مجبورش میکنه که تابستون تووی سیزده سالگی ازدواج کنه.. بعد علی ادامه داد دلش میخواد نویسنده بشه و جایزه نوبل بگیره. توی اون انباری کوچیک دیدم که شاهنامه و خیام و حافظ و مولوی هم داره.. میگفت حافظ رو از بر داره و خیام رو هم.. و من توی اون نگاهش یه پسر شریف رو می دیدم که خیلی از زمان و محیط خودش جلوتر رفته بود. علی گفت چون توی مدارس دولتی نامنویسی افغانها ممنوعه مجبور شده توی یه دبیرستان خصوصی درس بخونه و حالا خودش و مادرش برای تامین این هزینه مجبورن کار کنن.. هفته بعد که باز سر کلاس رفتم علی رو ندیدم. وقتی پرسیدم بچه ها گفتن که چون پدرش کارت نداشته گرفتنش و همشون رو فرستادن افغانستان. اونقدر ناراحت شدم که دیگه سمت بادبادک باز نرفتم. حتی دیدن کتاب تووی شهرکتابا غمگینم میکرد.. تا اینکه بهار امسال بعد از سه سال پیامی از علی تووی وایبر رسید که روز معلم رو تبریک گفته بود.. نوشته بود با دختری که دوستش داره ازدواج کرده و یک دختر دوماهه داره. نوشته بود حالا در یه کتابفروشی توی کابل کار میکنه و توی این سه سال هزارتا کتاب خونده.نوشته بود ما اینجا تووی کابل اینترنت نسل چهارم داریم. براش نوشتم قراره نسل چهارم بزودی به ایران هم برسه! با رسیدن پیام علی باز تونستم به بادبادک باز نزدیک بشم .کتاب خوبی بود.. مخصوصا برای من یاداور غربت مهاجرای خسته و ناسازگاری روزگار... Hardcover Finished this book about a month ago but it's taken me this long to write a review about it because I have such mixed feelings about it. It was a deeply affecting novel, but mostly not in a good way. I really wanted to like it, but the more I think about what I didn't like about the book, the more it bothers me. I even downgraded this review from two stars to one from the time I started writing it to the time I finished.
Let's start off with the good, shall we? The writing itself was pretty good when it comes to description, in that I really felt the author's descriptions of scenes, and in terms of moving the story forward. That said, it's not particularly challenging writing to read.
The very best part of the novel is its warm depiction of the mixed culture of Afghanistan, and how it conveys the picture of a real Afghanistan as a living place, before the coup, the Soviet invasion, and above all, the Taliban and the aftermath of September 11th created a fossilized image in the US of a failed state, petrified in backwardness and locked in the role of a villain from central casting.
Now for the not so good.
== Spoiler Alert ==
... because I don't think I'm going to be able to complain about what I didn't like about the book without revealing major plot points. (Not to mention, some of what follows will only make sense to someone who has read the book.) So if you don't want to spoil it for yourself, read no further, here be spoilers:
My overwhelming emotion throughout the book is feeling entirely manipulated. Of course, one major reason for this is that the author's attempts at metaphor, allegory, and forshadowing are utterly ham-fisted. When he wants to make a point, he hits you over the head with it, hard -- Amir's split lip / Hassan's cleft palate comes immediately, resoundingly to mind.
But I feel manipulated beyond that. The members of the servant class in this story suffer tragic, unspeakable calamities, sometimes at the hands of our fine hero, and yet the novel seems to expect the reader to reserve her sympathies for the wronged privileged child, beating his breast over the emotional pain of living with the wounds he has selfishly inflicted upon others. How, why, am I supposed to feel worse for him as he feels bad about what he has done to others? Rather than feeling most sympathy and kinship for those who, through absolutely no fault of their own, must suffer, not just once or twice, but again and again?
Of course this elevation of / identification with the wounded/flawed hero goes hand in hand with an absolutely detestable portrayal of the members of the servant class as being at their utmost happiest when they are being their most servile and utterly subjugating their own needs, wants, desires, pleasures -- their own selves, in fact -- to the needs of their masters. (Even when they are protecting their masters from their own arrogance, heartlessness, or downright stupidity.)
I don't see how the main character, Amir, could possibly be likeable. Amir's battle with Assef, momentous as it is, is not so much him taking a stand because he feels driven to do so or feels that he must. Rather, he acts with very little self-agency at all -- he is more or less merely carried forward into events. (And, moreover, in the end it is Sohrab (Hassan again) who saves him.)
I finished the novel resenting Amir, and even more intensely resenting the author for trying to make the reader think she's supposed to care about Amir, more than about anyone else in the story.
A couple other points: I'm wondering if one theme of the novel is that there are no definitive happy endings, no single immutable moments of epiphany or redemption. Because Amir's moral triumph, such as it is, over Assef, is so short-lived. He manages to crash horrifically only a week or two later, when he goes back on his word to Sohrab about his promise not to send him to an orphanage.
And lastly, I don't understand why Baba's hypocrisy is not more of a theme. He makes such a point of drilling into his son's head that a lie is a theft of one's right to the truth. His own hipocrisy there is a profound thing, and it's a shame the author doesn't do more with it.
Nevertheless, after all the bad things I had to say about it, I do have a couple quotes worth keeping:
Every woman needed a husband. Even if he did silence the song in her. (p.178)
'That's the real Afghanistan, Agha sahib. That's the Afghanistan I know. You? You've always been a tourist here, you just didn't know it.' (p. 232)
=== UPDATE ===
I originally posted my review The Kite Runner in February 2008. Since then, my review has generated a very robust response from other Goodreads members. I have responded a couple of times in the comments section, but I realize that by now, the comments section has gotten long enough that some folks may not realize that I have added some clarifications to my review. So, although the extended reply that I posted in the comments section in October 2008 is still available in the comments section, I am re-posting it here, so people don't miss it.
I also want to offer my continued thanks to those who have read, liked, and/or comment on my review of The Kite Runner. This kind of back-and-forth conversation on books is exactly why I signed on to Goodreads! I appreciate the feedback, and look forward to engaging in more such discussion.
Finally, one more quick reply. One recent commenter asked how I could have given this book only a 1 star rating, if I was so affected by it. As I replied in the comments, the short answer is that I am guided by Goodread's prompts when I rate a book. Two stars is It was OK; 1 star is I didn't like it. While I have praised a few things about the book, the bottom line is, overall, I didn't like it. -- Linda, 22 July 2011
Posted 24 October 2008:
There have been many comments to my review since I first wrote it, and I thought it might be about time for me to weigh in for a moment.
Before I get into my response, I must start off with a great thank you for all those who have felt sufficiently moved (positively or negatively) by my review to comment and respond. I appreciate all the comments, whether I agree with them or not.
First of all, I'd like to address the question of whether we're supposed to like Amir or not. Yes, I do realize that sometimes writers create and/or focus on a character that the reader is not meant to like. Here, though, the story is clearly meant to be about some kind of redemption -- but I found Amir so distasteful, that I simply wasn't interested in his redemption. The focus of the story was entirely on how Amir's life had been corrupted by the despicable things he'd done - when the things he'd done were entirely part and parcel of the position of power and privilege he occupied over Hassan.
Which brings me to my second point, the insufferable current of paternalism that runs throughout the story. The members of the servant and poorer classes are consistently portrayed as saintly, absurdly self-sacrificing, one-dimensional characters. Regardless of what terrible things befall them, they are shown to have nothing but their masters' interests at heart. Granted, it may be unlikely that the powerless would be overtly talking back and setting their masters straight; however, the novel gives no indication that they even have any private wishes of recrimination, or much of a private life, for that matter. Given this portrayal, it is even more difficult for me to muster any interest in Amir's suffering. But to suggest that perhaps we're misinterpreting the servants' subservient attitudes because we approach the story from a different time, place, or culture, is simply to engage in a cultural relativism borne out of -- and perpetuating -- the very same paternalism.
To clarify my point, let's look at some comparable examples from US culture. Consider any one of a huge number of films such as Driving Miss Daisy, Clara's Heart, Bagger Vance, or Ghost (all simply continuing a tradition that reaches back to Shirley Temple's days) in which noble servants or similar helpers have absolutely no concern in their lives other than making sure the wealthy people they are serving have happy, fulfilled lives -- while they themselves never seem to have any of their own personal hopes, desires, triumphs, tragedies, or even any hint of a home, family, personal, or romantic life at all. Their total happiness is bound up entirely with serving the lives of their rich counterparts. It is this quality, present throughout Hosseini's book, that bothers me most.
In the end, however, a beautifully written story could have overcome these criticisms -- or at the very least, I would have been able to temper or counter my points above with lavish praise for the writing. However, here, again, the novel falls flat. It is not particularly well-written. As some other commenters have also pointed out, the storytelling is quite heavy-handed, and the narrative suffers from implausible plot twists and uncanny coincidences, and a writing style that relies far too heavily on cliches and obvious literary devices.
I wish that I could say I liked the book more. To answer [another commenter's] question, I haven't read A Thousand Splendid Suns; I'm afraid I wasn't particularly motivated to do so after my reaction to this one. However, I do believe, as that commenter also suggests, that there is something to be gained from the debate and discussion that the book has inspired.
Hardcover For you, a thousand times over.
Children aren't coloring books. You don't get to fill them with your favorite colors.
...attention shifted to him like sunflowers turning to the sun.
But even when he wasn't around, he was.
When you kill a man, you steal a life. You steal a wife's right to a husband, rob his children of a father. When you tell a lie, you steal someone's right to the truth. When you cheat, you steal the right to fairness. There is no act more wretched than stealing.
...she had a voice that made me think of warm milk and honey.
My heart stuttered at the thought of her.
...and I would walk by, pretending not to know her, but dying to.
It turned out that, like satan, cancer had many names.
Every woman needed a husband, even if he did silence the song in her.
The first time I saw the Pacific, I almost cried.
Proud. His eyes gleamed when he said that and I liked being on the receiving end of that look.
Make morning into a key and throw it into the well,
Go slowly, my lovely moon, go slowly.
Let the morning sun forget to rise in the East,
Go slowly, lovely moon, go slowly.
Men are easy,... a man's plumbing is like his mind: simple, very few surprises. You ladies, on the other hand... well, God put a lot of thought into making you.
All my life, I'd been around men. That night, I discovered the tenderness of a woman.
And I could almost feel the emptiness in [her] womb, like it was a living, breathing thing. It had seeped into our marriage, that emptiness, into our laughs, and our lovemaking. And late at night, in the darkness of our room, I'd feel it rising from [her] and settling between us. Sleeping between us. Like a newborn child.
America was a river, roaring along unmindful of the past. I could wade into this river, let my sins drown to the bottom, let the waters carry me someplace far. Someplace with no ghosts, no memories, and no sins. If for nothing else, for that I embraced America.
...and every day I thank [God] that I am alive, not because I fear death, but because my wife has a husband and my son is not an orphan.
...lifting him from the certainty of turmoil and dropping him in a turmoil of uncertainty.
...sometimes the dead are luckier.
He walked like he was afraid to leave behind footprints. He moved as if not to stir the air around him.
...and when she locked her arms around my neck, when I smelled apples in her hair, I realized how much I had missed her. 'You're still the morning sun to me...' I whispered.
...there is a God, there always has been. I see him here, in the eys of the people in this [hospital] corridor of desperation. This is the real house of God, this is where those who have lost God will find Him... there is a God, there has to be, and now I will pray, I will pray that He will forgive that I have neglected Him all of these years, forgive that I have betrayed, lied, and sinned with impunity only to turn to Him now in my hour of need. I pray that He is as merciful, benevolent, and gracious as His book says He is. Hardcover
1970s Afghanistan: Twelve-year-old Amir is desperate to win the local kite-fighting tournament and his loyal friend Hassan promises to help him. But neither of the boys can foresee what would happen to Hassan that afternoon, an event that is to shatter their lives. After the Russians invade and the family is forced to flee to America, Amir realises that one day he must return to an Afghanistan under Taliban rule to find the one thing that his new world cannot grant him: redemption. The Kite Runner