Book Review: The Kite Runner

I cant even begin to tell you how fascinated I am by book covers. I love seeing how many different types there are for the same novel, as you have undoubtedly seen from the last few book-related posts or so (also, it adds colour to my blog since I no longer have a digicam - *sniff*), because I wonder what the mindset of the target market must be based on the particular cover for that market. I dont know anything about the intricacies of publishing, so I dont know if they are all made by different country divisions of the same publishing house or by different ones. For once, I found the covers appealing and relevant, though exotic because they are alien to some degree to a contemporary western small-town mindset. This one below is the cover of the book I read for example, borrowed from my cousin in Bombay.


Nothing particularly interesting about it except the sepia tones. Just some random brown boy at the threshold of a house - nothing to do with the story. These two below, however, are more touristy.



This first one appeals to the Republican types - concrete, urban, with the title running in ink, the Hard Copy types. An exotic third world city currently in the news caught in a somewhat arial photograph, to lend the novel that hint of sociological/journalistic credibility.

The second one, which I found randomly, of a boy peeping in through a cracked wall, is sad - speaks of tragedy and hopelessness. The font resembles knife slashes, the boy a certain man with sunglasses, (though from far it looks like a magic sofa).

The third one is more arty farty, for the liberal activist hippie types who believe in freedom and open spaces and happiness and simplicity. I found it reminiscent of the Windhorse cover. For the above reason, its my personal favourite - soft colours, a child, an open sky.

And that is also what I take home with me, thankfully, courtesy of the author.

I was initially hesitant to start the book, despite having heard good stuff about it from many sources. I am against male bildungsromans on principle - call it an unreasonable bias - but i expect boy stuff to be about business and all - damn boring. But when I saw my bhabhi, who is not much of a reader reading it, and my little cousin Namu whose taste in books I respect immensely, not to mention a random old gentleman at an airport as I was reading the back, who told me to get it, that it was excellent. When a random old fat balding white guy has good things to say about a book about Afghanistan? Hmmm.

I cannot believe the piece of LIERATURE Mr. Hosseini has come up with! Here is a book about childhood, about culture, politics, love, understanding, conflict, a skewed Oedipus complex, values, power, oppression, faith, war, tragedy, nostalgia, truth, courage, perseverance, loyalty, SUSPENSE! - the binaries and everything in between.

I dont even know what to tell you about it - dont want to give you spoilers. Suffice it to be about a wealthy boy growing up in Kabul in the 60's and 70's, his family and life, his servant, his school, his demons. He finds asylum in the US, and must return to Kabul to fulfil his duty later in his life - nay, to find rdemption. The book takes us to a world much like the one we grew up with, but with far more nature - filled with innocence and competitiveness and school, discrimination. Force. This book doesnt let you rest; it keeps you on your toes - climax following climax in every step of the way - be it violence, love, war, violence, love, rehabilitation. One breathlessly reads on, and suddenly lingers over a page or a paragraph, sensing the tears sting one's eyes. One minds the moment, lets it pass on its own. One's eyes widen and narrow - one's jaw clenches and relaxes with each turn of the pages. The tears come often, and never seem forced. One imagines oneself, one's child in each situation.

I cant even begin to tell you all my favourite parts - wish I had had the presence of mind to mark them - the speech about lying, Amir's first story, the first climax, his filmy interaction with Soraya, their unseen courtship and their marriage - you know I really wish sometimes I had been innocent enough to marry the way our parents did, to love so sweetly and steadily. Nowadays we are so suspicious of what the other might what to exploit us for - looks, brains, wealth, kindness - we must know a person and his/her background inside out. I loved the Hassan parts, his bits of Afghan info, tracing the similarity of words between Farsi and Hindi, the sketches of the Talib, the Russians, the people impoverished and exploited by corruption and perversion. Amir's honesty with himself, how nice their menus sound, the sense of community fostered by GOSSIP (*rolls eyes* dont we all know) by immigrant communities. Umm... thats pretty much the whole book.

Not once did the author indulge in any self-righteous soliloquys, or make judgments on anyone but himself. The protagonist lays himself bare to the reader, just as Hassan laid himself bare to him, except in the time of his greatest need.

This is the story of practically every developing country - newly independent, filled with skewed idealists, comunalism, violence, sectarianism, power. Ideals are taken to extremes - moderation and common sense and order is ignored in the race for the top, where every sin but sloth is committed. This is the story of all of us also - those of us who have stood up for a cause we believe din despite all odds, those of us who have chosen to blend in with the majority, and those of us who sacrificed ourselves in between. Those of us who live with our past, those of us who have forgiven ourselves.

Conclusion: DEFINITELY a must-read. It will open your eyes to truhs about yourself by its sheer honesty.

Here is a picture of Mr. Hosseini for you.


He is Afghan. I think he looks decidedly Mediterranean - Greek or Eastern European. Must be the Californian tan. Definitely Persian feature - the Asia Minor type - in the eyes, in the hair, in the lips.