The Kite Runner

TL;DR: Starts out okay, but devolves into lifeless melodramatic dreck: an unimaginative soap opera plot padded out to book length.

I wanted to like this, I really did. But my tolerance for cheap melodramatic tricks is fairly low, and this book had exhausted my supply of it by the halfway point, and then it kept getting progressively worse. The closest parallel I can think of is unimaginative, lazily written daytime TV movies.

The kite runner starts as regular popular litfic: a middle-aged writer struggling to cope with Issues From His Past. The writer in question is Amir, an Afghan-American who emigrated when the Soviets occupied his home country, and his Issues From The Past stem from the guilt from how horribly he treated the servant show more boy he grew up with.

Throughout his childhood in Kabul, the main character’s relationship to his servant-cum-playmate Hassan is asymmetrical: Amir is literate, wealthy, sleeps in a house, and feels self-righteous and generous in lording all this over Hassan only subtly and occasionally, essentially treating him as affectionately as a pet. Hassan, by contrast, offers displays of friendship and loyalty that are almost comically exaggerated. During one such self-sacrificial display, Hassan runs afoul of the neighbourhood bully, who rapes him, while Amir watches from hiding, too scared to intervene. It is Amir’s guilt that later drives him to have Hassan sent away on false charges and to the aforementioned Issues From His Past.

So far, so litfic. But it is at this point, when the Taliban take over Afghanistan from the Soviets, and when Amir and his fellow Afghan-American wife are unable to conceive, that the book started to lose me. It turns out that -- dramatic chord! -- Hassan and Amir are … brothers! It also turns out that -- more dramatic chords -- while Hassan was killed by the Taliban, he has … a son! Who needs to be liberated … from the Taliban! Who looks … exactly like his father! A middle-aged writer could not have asked for a more perfect way to atone for his past self’s misdeeds.

And that, altogether, is Hosseini's only trick: whatever turn the plot takes is a direct answer to the question: "how can I make a writer's atonement even more cathartic?". The kite runner moves soullessly along this obviously-manufactured path to its destination of Feel-Good-Land. The Taliban leader who has taken the little boy for a sex slave turns out to be … the childhood bully who raped Hassan! And, very filmically, after his heroic extraction operation, Amir will forever sport a scar on his upper lip -- to parallel Hassan’s harelip! And then, because the adoption process may not go through, … the kid tries to commit suicide, and for a moment the ultimate atonement seems to slip out of the writer's grasp! But then a well-connected family-member-ex-machina pulls some strings, and … the adoption goes through anyway. Finally, at the end, as the middle-aged Amir engages Hassan’s son in a game he used to play with Hassan, the little boy … shows signs of happiness! I could not help but picture a soap opera’s dramatic zoom at each of these revelations, and each time I was a little more disappointed in how low this book had sunk.

On top of that, the prose takes pains to explicitly point out all of the parallelisms and echoes that so melodramatically accentuate Amir’s journey to atonement, as though we, the readers, cannot be trusted to see these things for ourselves. Daytime TV levels, indeed.

This book exasperated me: as it limped along Cliché Road, each new melodramatic chord and unimaginative plot point felt like it was actively trying to annoy me. None of the dramatic chord moments I listed are there because of things like well-rounded characters, thematic relevance, or attempts at a convincing plot: they are so transparently a hack writer’s one single trick to maximise the cathartic feeling at the end. The kite runner will tug at that one heart string in whatever way is the least imaginative and the most overdone.

I will not be reading another book by Khaled Hosseini. show less

The Kite Runner is simply the most American foreign novel I've ever read. For those who aren't clear on this, that's not a good thing. We'll come back to this...

As a story, The Kite Runner starts a bit slow. I wasn't engaged as a reader until eighty to a hundred pages in. There was just considerable information to process and not much emotional weight to the story. The narrative jumped around quite a bit and it was difficult to follow. Then the tension began to rise. Amir, Hassan, and Baba became real. I was pulled into the narrative and I began to see how this story might actually warrant all the praise it has received. The characters were interesting and the plot was riveting.

For a chunk of this book somewhere in the middle, the story show more is quite good. There's the divisive heartrending story of the past that haunts our protagonist. His journey into adulthood, marriage, and immigration is insightful and honest. When the time comes for Amir to go back to Afghanistan, I expected the book to reach a satisfying conclusion, quietly observing Amir's past from his new position and providing Amir an opportunity to redeem himself for his past mistakes.

Then Khaled Hosseini did two things to crap all over any hopes I had for this book.

First, he found the cutest little ribbon he could, wrapped it around his story and tied it up so prettily. No, it doesn't end there. He found another cute ribbon. And he wrapped it around the story and the first bow. Then he found another. And another. There are no bloody kite strings in this novel. Those are the most ornate, gaudy ribbons the author could find because he wants you to see all of them. See this pretty ribbon here? Here's how I tie it all together. See this plot line here? Here's how I conveniently finish it off? Didn't see it? Well, let me explain it to you. There's redemption and there's soap opera drama needlessly orchestrated from page one. The Kite Runner is very much the second.

Second, and this is what really offends me, the intention of The Kite Runner is clear: to be a foreign novel that makes Americans happy that they're Americans. It justifies the superiority complex while convincing the reader that they're culturally aware. The western belief that Muslim nations are evil and that they need our salvation is abundant in the later half of this book. The Taliban is painted as a childish, hypocritical caricature with no need for sympathy. The only redeemable Muslim characters are those who reject any expression of faith and embrace western ideas and imagery. But it's all written by an Afghan, so it must be the way things are, right? Yes, The Kite Runner is a book that lets you feel cultured and entirely justified in bombing those bastards overseas.

I know many people love this book. I know that I've probably just stepped on many of their toes. They may think I'm calling them out as an “ignorant westerner.” I'm not. This book perpetuates these ideas, but falling for a good story while missing the underlying colonial notions can happen to the best of us, especially when the author is “one of them.” I do wish I'd read a book from Afghanistan that better represented the nation and its people. Hopefully, someday I'll get back around to it. show less

"For you, a thousand times over."

As most of you know, I work in a bookstore. Each morning I tidy the shelves, memorising the titles of the hundreds of books we stock. I unpack deliveries on a weekly basis and the books become my friends. I only wish that this particular book had become my friend a little sooner.

I was saving this one for a 'rainy day' and I'm so very glad I did. I feel that this was the right time to read this book, no sooner, no later. I needed to read it at this very moment.

Oh, what an incredible, amazing and ultimately heartbreaking novel.

I really cannot fault this novel. It is perfect in every way. It is one of those special books that I implore you all to read.

However it's a book that I actually wish was never show more written. I wish the nightmarish landscapes and the terrors that unfolded within these pages were never put to pen and paper. I wish that no one could ever dream of these horrors. Yet, this is our reality. This is happening and it breaks my heart knowing that even though this is a work of fiction, really it isn't. War and devastation is reality.

I only wish this world was a better place.

I wish monsters were just works of fiction.

I wish that people would be kind to themselves and to one another.

"For you a thousand times over." show less

This is a beautifully written, heartbreaking story of two boys growing up in a country that descends into war with the antagonist haunted by a childhood failure of integrity (sticking up for his friend during an assault) and complicated relationship with his father. It's a story of regret, redemption and the desire to become a better human despite past mistakes. The writing is excellent. The story moves at a solid, steady pace. The twists are unexpected and plausible.

This is one of those books I avoided when it was being talked about everywhere because...well, because it was being talked about everywhere. I'm just so skeptical of things EVERYONE is reading and hyping. For this month's American Authors Challenge, however, I decided to at least try it. I am glad to have read it; I mostly admire the way it was written, although I have a couple quibbles which I will mention later. Since it has been so widely reviewed, I won't go into the story line here (although I must say I knew very little about it other than its setting when I finally picked it up). It's powerful, often brutal, stuff -- especially disheartening to read at this point in time, knowing what has happened in Afghanistan in the two show more decades since the book was written, because then there was some hope for a brighter future for that troubled country. Two things bothered me about this novel. First, I simply could not see the narrator as a sympathetic protagonist, no matter how honestly he portrayed his own failings and desire to overcome them. He repeatedly displayed a lack of empathy for people he purported to love, and so often did the wrong thing in the circumstances, even when trying to atone for his past. Forgivable in the child, much less so in the man who should have learned a few things from life. Second, I was put off by the "poetic justice" of the climactic events. Just too perfectly coincidental, too obviously authorial...not like reality at all. I can't say this was an enjoyable reading experience, but as a representation of what life is like in a country where fanatics rule, it feels essential, somehow. show less

Amir is twelve years old, the son of a wealthy and well to do Afghan business man, the similarly aged Hassan is the son of the family’s low-caste servant. Both boys are motherless. The two boys have been together since birth, and as well as being a servant to Amir, Hassan is a loyal and faithful friend, they always play together and Hassan will do absolutely anything for Amir. Amir though struggles with his relationship with his father, feeling he does meets his fathers expectations, and he is jealous of the place Hassan appears to have in his (Amir’s) father’s heart. Amir sees the local kite-fighting tournament as a way of winning his fathers approval, and Hassan is more than willing to help him, but subsequent events do not turn show more out as expected, and Amir’s behaviour does something that will irreversibly change their seemingly idyllic lives.

With the invasion of the Russians Amir and his father escape to the USA, leaving everything behind beyond the few personal possessions they can carry. While they try to build a new life in the States Amir is never at peace with himself, constantly troubled by his actions back in Afghanistan. When a call comes for him to return to his homeland, with perhaps a chance to find redemption, how will he act?

This is a superbly crafted story, captivating from the very start. Amir who narrates events is disarmingly honest even about his own failures and short comings, and the other characters are beautifully drawn. Hassan is especially endearing, his trusting and unquestioning loyalty to Amir brings a lump to the throat and tears to the eyes.

The story is full of surprises, not always pleasant for the participants, and some of the events are harrowing, even horrifying, but such is the reality of life. While at times disturbing these form an essential part of the story. By contrast there are many beautifully tender and heartrendingly moving moments.

Khaled Hosseini writes with a mastery of the English Language which puts to shame many whose native tongue is English. He has produced a most powerful, moving and honest story; all the more so for its convincing ring of truth and credibility. It is this plausibility which makes the story at times so disturbing; but for the very same reason it ranks as one of the most deeply, profoundly moving and compassionate books I have read; a masterpiece. show less

I'd heard so many things that made me uninterested in this book: it's a coming-of-age story, it's about two Muslim boys, it's about Afghanistan. That's all true, and it's exceedingly good at those things too. But more importantly, it's a universal story about betrayal, remorse, and learning to live with one's past. There are, as one back-cover blurb writer puts it, things that are "excruciating" to read about, not the least the narrator's unflinching look at how he failed someone very dear to him and has to live with the consequences of that his entire life. But it's ultimately in many ways an optimistic book as well, and gives those of us who realize that we've been less than perfect sons or daughters or friends a bit of hope that we show more can find forgiveness as well. show less