The story begins with a boy and a girl at the age of 17. The early parts of the book are sickeningly sweet, like Turkish delights - young love, you knThe story begins with a boy and a girl at the age of 17. The early parts of the book are sickeningly sweet, like Turkish delights - young love, you know. A coup changed everything.
At the age of 27, the girl had settled in a house with green shutters in New England. This part was particularly heartbreaking because the girl lost her daughter, Marigold, who was less than a year old. I specifically looked up what croup is - it's a relatively common childhood illness now.
At 77, the girl accidentally walked into a stationery store, which felt like she was transported back to Tehran 60 years ago. It was like a small stone dropped into a pond, disrupting her life that had been rekindled after giving birth to her son at the age of 42. When the girl visited the boy in a nursing home, she learned that their love letters had been switched, and before the boy passed away, they finally reconciled with each other and with their past selves.
This story also intertwines 2 important moments in Iranian history: the 1953 coup (when Prime Minister Mossadegh was overthrown and the Shah Pahlavi came to power), which changed the protagonists' fates; and the 1979 Iranian Revolution, which witnessed the death of their friend on the frontlines.
In Tehran in the 1950s, most middle-class girls got married right after high school. Who would have thought that the girl and her sister would end up far from their homeland in the US because of a failed engagement? It's neither good nor bad; for their parents, not having their children around them would certainly not be ideal, but missing the turmoil of the past 60 years is not necessarily a bad thing.
This novel is not long but spans a large time period; 70 years suddenly passed. While reading, I couldn't help but think of Blake Lively's movie The Age of Adaline, where the elderly grandmother calls Blake's ageless character "Mom".
The girl's mother always said, "Our fate is written on our foreheads when we're born. It can't be seen, can't be read, but it's there in invisible ink all right, and life follows that fate." I think that apart from some innate personality traits, everything else is impermanent. Just like the girl and her sister came to America together, but they still lived completely different lives.
This is a simple story with simple premise, plot, narrative and characters. And, that’s it.
Persian food is everywhere in the novel. It represents the girl's youth and her nostalgic homeland. I might try some someday.
After The Kite Runner, Khaled Hosseini followed up with A Thousand Splendid Suns in 2017. Having read both of his novels, I've come to the conclusion After The Kite Runner, Khaled Hosseini followed up with A Thousand Splendid Suns in 2017. Having read both of his novels, I've come to the conclusion that Hosseini — despite being born in Afghanistan and now considered the most successful Afghan author of our time — is pro-imperialist.
The evidence lies in his blatantly placing the blame for women's suffering and Afghanistan's decline squarely on the shoulders of Islam and Afghan culture in his books. The Taliban are depicted as violent, inhuman Pashtuns. Afghanistan is portrayed as a conservative nation, oppressed by Islamic religion. For instance, when 14-year-old Mariam is forced to marry 27-year-old Rasheed and was raped by her husband, she was told by her mother to accept it, citing the example of the Prophet Muhammad marrying Aisha at a young age. This is a common misconception among Westerners, especially non-Muslims. Hosseini exploits this misconception to reinforce this narrative to non-Muslim readers. Sure, Khaled might say that this book was written for Western liberal readers, but the use of Orientalist and Islamophobic language throughout the story is unethical and biased. The stereotype of submissive Islamic men who desire underage girls and submissive Islamic women who blindly obey, even to the point of sacrificing their lives is simply untrue.
In most reviews, I've noticed that even Muslims who understand the nuances of religion overlook the fact that that statement is wrong. They don't care because the novel is so emotional, engaging, and impactful. And what about readers who know nothing about Islam? Won't they blindly believe that that's what Islam is, that that's what Islamic men and women are like in Islam?
When such themes are raised, no matter how beautiful Hosseini's writing is, personally, it's overshadowed by the book's overtly pro-imperialist stances and Orientalist tropes. Even though in his author's bio, he claims to be a UNHCR ambassador ready to offer humanitarian aid to war victims in Afghanistan through the Khaled Hosseini Foundation, it's clear that Hosseini has a sinister agenda.
This isn't the first time Hosseini has glorified imperialism in his novels. In the final chapter of The Kite Runner, the situation in Afghanistan is summed up with Tariq saying that maybe it wasn't a bad thing that Bush went into Afghanistan and that there might be hope when Bush's bombs stop falling.
Oh, so your house was burned down by foreigners, you moved to their village, and you feel safe living there. So you encourage those foreigners to destroy your village for the sake of everyone else? Is that it?
While it's easy to say, Oh, it's just fiction, don't take it so seriously, it's clear to me that this book was published with the intention of influencing opinions, and it's very effective. In reality, war doesn't improve the human rights of people or women, it only brings death. And bombs don't bring peace and justice to anyone, unless they're part of a struggle for Islam.
I urge readers to be wary of people like Khaled Hosseini who use their identity as agents to spread imperialist narratives. As a descendant of Afghans, I believe he should be spreading awareness of the negative impacts of war, upholding truth, and criticizing the abuse of power and foreign interference in his homeland, not cherry-picking issues to give a bad image of his country of origin and his religion.
To understand Afghanistan as a nation at war, we need to look at the history of Afghan society, warlords, the Soviet proxy war, and the impact of imperialism. None of this is mentioned in the novel, let alone accounted for. I feel he is not qualified to represent Afghanistan, and his origins do not qualify him to portray Islamic society. Full stop.
This isn’t just a coincidence. Hosseini clearly has a propaganda machine behind him, working hard to shape public opinion and gain support for war. From a superficial viewpoint, it's a beautiful novel, but it's deeply inaccurate and unethical. Good writing is a poor excuse for supporting propaganda that harms the lives of millions!...more
Memoirs of a Geisha is a novel that takes you to a fancy but strict world in Japan way back in the 1930s. It tells the story of Sayuri, a girl who getMemoirs of a Geisha is a novel that takes you to a fancy but strict world in Japan way back in the 1930s. It tells the story of Sayuri, a girl who gets taken away from her poor family and forced to become a geisha. Geishas are like special entertainers who learn how to dance, sing, and talk in a charming way to entertain rich men.
The story is quite interesting for me because it shows me all the cool details of being a geisha, like the amazing kimonos they wear, the way they do their makeup, and how they learn all these arts. It also shows the important people they entertain and the fancy tea houses they visit.
But things aren't all sunshine and rainbows. The book also shows how hard it is to be a geisha. The training is tough, there's a lot of competition between the girls, and they can't really have normal lives or boyfriends. Sayuri's story is mostly about how much she wants a different life, even though she becomes a famous geisha.
Things about Memoirs of a Geisha:
• The book is interesting because of the fancy worldbuilding, but it also shows how the geisha system wasn't always fair to the girls. • Some say the book doesn't exactly show how geishas really lived back then. It's more like a fictional story inspired by geishas.
Having said that, just get ready for a story that will make you happy for Sayuri sometimes, but also feel sad for her a lot.
All in all, it is a book that's easy to read and keeps you interested. It shows a beautiful world but also a sad story.
If I were to choose a single book as my all-time favorite, Tuesdays with Morrie would undoubtedly make the list. Every time I revisit it, I'm remindedIf I were to choose a single book as my all-time favorite, Tuesdays with Morrie would undoubtedly make the list. Every time I revisit it, I'm reminded of a loved one who has passed; most recently, my mother.
I love this book so much that I've bought both the English and Chinese versions to revisit it. I was thrilled to discover that it's now available in Malay as well, and I've added that to my collection. Even though the content remains the same, immersing myself in different languages offers a unique and profound experience. It's truly remarkable.
Long after finishing the book, I could still vividly recall the course requirements listed at the beginning. No textbooks. Class was held in the professor's study. The subject was the meaning of life. No exams. A post-class hug or a kiss on the forehead would earn you extra credit.
What an extraordinary course! A wise old man spent the final 14 weeks of his life imparting the secrets of life to his student. There's nothing more moving than watching a man facing death with such peace and tranquility, lying in bed and calmly explaining how to live a happy life, how to embrace both life and death.
Albom’s writing is exceptionally fluid. As I read, it felt as if all the surrounding noise had suddenly disappeared, leaving me to ponder time, space, life, and death in quiet contemplation. 14 weeks might seem like a long time to others, but the Albom descriptions made me eager to absorb all the wisdom at once, yet also filled with dread at the thought of reaching the end. I feared that once I finished the book, the professor would no longer be with us. I even toyed with the idea of stopping halfway through, to somehow preserve him forever. His humor would bring a smile to my face, while his words could move me to tears. But that was OK, because as he often said, we should fully experience every emotion, allowing them to permeate our lives. Once we've truly felt sadness, our tears have served their purpose. Words have that power. It had been a long time since I'd felt that way.
They discussed life's most perplexing questions: death, fear, aging, greed, marriage, family, society, forgiveness, and the meaning of a meaningful life. These are the very questions that many people avoid, either because they're too material or too afraid. They are the questions that haunt so many people as they approach the inevitable end of life.
So, this is a book for young people, to help them avoid feeling empty after a lifetime of busyness. It's a book for middle-aged people, to remind them that it's never too late to change. And it's a book for the elderly, to help them cherish their remaining time and face death with the same peace and serenity as the professor.
Such a profound topic might not be able to be fully explored in a single book. But as long as it inspires you to think and reflect, then it's a good book. That's probably what the professor would have said too.
”Remember what I said about finding a meaningful life?”
Yes. Devote yourself to loving others, devote yourself to your community around you, and devote yourself to creating something that gives you purpose and meaning.
These simple words hold the key to life's mysteries. Life is both ordinary and extraordinary. Just like Professor Morrie, who was both frail and vulnerable, yet profound and powerful.
Since his mother started chemotherapy, Conor has been having nightmares every night. A monster in the shape of a yew tree claims to have been summonedSince his mother started chemotherapy, Conor has been having nightmares every night. A monster in the shape of a yew tree claims to have been summoned and demands to exchange three stories for one of Conor's real stories. Conor isn't afraid of the monster because, to him, watching his mother gradually succumb to death is far more terrifying. His father has left, his grandmother who has come to care for them doesn't get along with him, and the excessive sympathy from his teachers and bullying from his classmates at school.. each of these is more frightening than the monster. Gradually, Conor discovers that the monster's appearance follows a certain pattern, and the ambiguous stories told by the monster seem to have some hidden meaning..
Although this book is primarily aimed at YA and can be considered a children's book, I believe it is also suitable for adults. I personally love it very much. Fairy tales should be like this, giving children the opportunity to think, rather than constantly creating a warm and happy atmosphere for them, occasionally touching on small troubles in life but only in passing.
This might be a common problem with fairy tales written by adults. I encourage giving children some dark education, using stories to tell them about the many bad aspects of life and that many children have hidden sadness or painful secrets in their hearts. Most people in this world are misunderstood and have their own deepest fears and unspoken thoughts. Those precocious children are not alone.
The first thing that touched me in this book was when Conor's mother, who had lost her hair due to chemotherapy and was unable to care for Conor, asked his grandmother to help. Conor didn't want his grandmother to come, so his mother said her condition wasn't very good. Conor avoided the topic, saying he was going to be late for school. His mother said to him, "Alright, dear. You're a good boy. I just wish you didn't have to be so good."
How many parents realize that their sensible children are often suppressing their sadness? Most parents might be relieved that their children are sensible, but they don't empathize. They encourage children to be mature and sensible, but they never think about letting their children just be simple children.
On his way to school, Conor was bullied and pushed to the ground by other boys, scraping his skin and bleeding a lot. The boys also mocked Conor for having a "bald mother." Conor chose to endure it, and when the teacher intervened, he only said he had fallen. Because the teacher's hypocritical sympathy and exaggerated pity were also a kind of injury to Conor. Children use their innocent malice to bully others, and adults pity others with their self-righteous compassion.
In the following story, day and night alternate, reality and monsters intertwine, one after another. If I were to tell them all, I would spoil the whole story. My biggest feeling after reading this book is that it is a must-read for children.
For Conor, the monster is not a monster but more like a kind of salvation. The three stories correspond to the three problems or confusions he encounters in real life. If we have to use adult values to say, the monster is a comfort that Conor imagined. In the end, what the monster teaches Conor is to face himself truthfully. He doesn't have to be strong, he doesn't have to be understanding, he doesn't have to feel guilty for being young and powerless all the time, he needs to tell the truth, he needs to express his vulnerability and helplessness, he needs to reconcile with his loneliness. He can think about ending the pain, that's not shameful, nor is it giving up.
"I don't want you to go," that's the final answer.
The story is powerful and thought-provoking, and I wanted to share the aspects I loved while also Spoiler Alert!
I was incredibly impressed and moved.
The story is powerful and thought-provoking, and I wanted to share the aspects I loved while also defending the book against some of the critiques I've read. Yes, it's a novel with clear flaws and superficialities - after all, it's written by a very young author (born in 1996). But its flaws don't overshadow its brilliance, ingenuity, ambition, and insight, which paint the story in a truly unique and dazzling light.
1. History & Magic The story of Babel unfolds from the perspective of Robin Swift, a Chinese boy, chronicling his short and tumultuous life. Taken from a Guangzhou (Canton) ravaged by plague to Oxford, to study at the Royal Translation Institute, Robin's world runs almost parallel to the real world's historical timeline. Many of the historical events and figures depicted are based on real people and events (invention of the camera, the spread of Morse code, even Lin Zexu's prohibition of opium in Canton).
Although the concept of "silver-making" is introduced to the world-building, and a fictional Tower of Babel is created in Oxford, the story overall remains low on magic. In fact, magic isn't truly the main theme of the book. The concept of silver-making is quite new and strange - it involves capturing and harnessing a fantastical energy created during translation between different languages. This energy is then channeled through silver bars to achieve various purposes (e.g., making a car run faster, improving gun aim, making flowers bloom brighter, purifying water, causing memory loss, or even triggering explosions). However, as the story progresses and the world unfolds, the real focus becomes the power struggles, conflicts, and confrontations between characters, forces, organizations, and nations. As the story progresses, silver-making magic becomes more and more symbolic and allegorical, a powerful way to portray the Empire's exploitation, extraction, oppression, and manipulation of the entire world.
After all, even without magic, even without the need to hoard vast quantities of silver, the expansion and aggression of empires throughout history has still happened, spreading suffering to all the lands their expeditions could reach. As a student of Chinese and world history, R.F. Kuang's writing is rooted in history, relies on it as a pillar, and draws its motivation, themes, and techniques from historical events. From this perspective, readers who expect Babel to utilize its fantasy elements to develop its own independent world and story might be disappointed. Kuang's story never truly strays from the established framework of history. She doesn't build a whole new fictional universe based on magic and fantasy around silver-making; instead, she integrates magic and fantasy, through silver-making, into the specific historical period she's studied and cares about. This unique creativity showcases Kuang's talent and her ability to leverage her own educational background and experiences.
To put it simply, Babel reads like a story a student swamped with coursework and papers at Oxford might dream up to relieve academic pressure and add some fun to the dry reading. However, Kuang's vision and ambition far surpass those of an ordinary student. From Guangzhou to London, from Paris to Calcutta, from Oxford academia to striking mill workers, from Queen Victoria to Lin Zexu, Kuang attempts, through the short life of a Chinese boy, to explore and re-interpret the vast and complex tapestry of world history. From the perspective of fantasy literature, in this peaceful era, she challenges readers with a "boring" theme we already encountered in our high school textbooks: British imperialism.
New perspective, old history, new magic, old legends.
2. Boy and the World Hidden beneath the fantastical magic lies colonial history, and at the heart of history lies humanity.
If the 19th-century relationship between Britain and world history is the framework and material Kuang draws upon based on her education, Robin's growth as a character is a true reflection of her own experiences. Born in Guangzhou and raised in England, Robin's understanding of his homeland, heritage, culture, and ethnicity constantly evolves as the story progresses. From a timid, reserved boy, comfortable in Oxford, eager for academic pursuits, to a sensitive young man confronting the suffering of his people, and ultimately to a martyr who sacrifices himself at the story's end, Robin carries the story of Babel. Robin's struggles, anxieties, and feelings of being adrift between "two divided worlds," unable to find a place to belong or establish his identity, all stem from Kuang's own experiences and voice, making them particularly nuanced and powerful.
Babel is divided into four parts. The first two sections focus almost entirely on Robin's personal growth: his dependence on and fear of Professor Lovell, the authority figure and father figure; his initial awe and blind acceptance of Oxford and the Translation Institute; his investment in friends, friendships (and perhaps even love); his fascination with translation and silver-making; his love-hate relationship with his brother, Griffin, and the mysterious organization; and his gradually wavering faith. Throughout the first part of the story, Robin is more of a silent observer, a bystander, than a true protagonist. He's timid, scared, and ignorant. Trapped within the confines of Oxford, he can't see the world outside or understand his own role. He's not a Chinese Harry Potter burdened with a unique destiny and the hero's mantle. He's more like Neville Longbottom – his personal growth may be slow and delayed, but once he emerges from the murky water, his rise is spectacular.
The first half of the story depicts personal growth; the second half focuses on personal choices and defining one's destiny. Growth is inevitable, necessary, and a crucial element of the story's development. If Robin remained willfully blind to the world, if he kept evading and compromising, he wouldn't be the one. Therefore, Robin's growth is undeniable and justified. However, in the latter half, when Robin starts actively choosing and shaping his own destiny, readers' opinions become divided.
Choices always come with pros and cons; destinies too have good and bad sides. Many readers (especially reviewers) dislike Robin's choices, questioning the wisdom of his plan to attack the Tower of Babel and disagreeing with his final act of sacrifice. The book's subtitle, "The Necessity of Violence," has also sparked heated discussions and debates. Is violence truly necessary? Are Robin's acts of violence futile? I disagree with this criticism. Robin isn't meant to embody heroism, nor does Kuang intend for him to save the world. His ending is the best he could get, the only one he could bear.
Based on Robin's growth in the first half, readers naturally expect him to mature, to become a hero who saves the world, like Harry Potter. But we all know the reality of historical development. Robin's attack on the Tower of Babel can only temporarily delay the Empire's expansion, create some pressure and obstacles, but it can't change the bigger picture overnight. Yes, Robin's plan to take over the Tower of Babel is reckless, even childish, his desire to see London Bridge collapse is purely driven by vengeance, and his decision to destroy all the silver bars isn't the wisest. However, these regrettable choices that evoke sympathy and sorrow aren't a result of Kuang's limitations or naivete as a young writer. Because.. in the end, Robin doesn't represent hope or the future.
In the end, Robin chooses to stay, while Victoire chooses to leave. Babel's true ending isn't Robin's act of bringing down the Tower; it's Victoire escaping to America, in pursuit of new challenges. Robin's life and mission end at Babel, but the burdens he carries are inherited and carried forward by Victoire. After experiencing Robin's growth and the world's turmoil with him, you’ll suddenly realise that Robin isn't the traditional hero protagonist, but rather the unforgettable martyr who usually appears in a hero's flashbacks.
Yes, we all thought Robin would escape unscathed, continue Hermes' legacy by recruiting new forces, and become a master of silver-making. And we thought Robin was the sole and absolute protagonist, the story's pillar and strength. But Kuang subverts our expectations. This is also why, in the latter half of the book, Ramy and Griffin, two important characters, die one after another in a hasty manner. They represent Robin's reasons for living: Ramy embodies friendship and love, while Griffin represents family. When you suddenly lose friendship, love, and family, you lose everything. Robin finally breaks free from the confines of Oxford and the Tower of Babel, but he can't escape his own despair.
Therefore, he tells Victoire that his world ended the moment Ramy fell. As he himself admits, everything that happened afterwards was a pre-meditated sacrifice. The book subtly hints at Robin's self-sacrifice and self-punishment through Ramy several times, but for many of us, it's still hard to accept Robin's ultimate fate. And when it comes to Ramy and Robin's relationship, Kuang is incredibly subtle, even coy. It's likely that straight readers might completely miss the fact that these two are actually lovers. Ramy's death essentially seals Robin's fate, but because the groundwork in the earlier parts was scattered, underdeveloped, and ambiguous (it's only in the very last moment that Robin recalls he "was falling in love"), readers struggle to accept the sudden blow of their expectations being shattered. Kuang might have aimed for a delayed realization with a dramatic effect, but unfortunately, it lacked the necessary emotional impact. It makes you wonder, dear author, what were you afraid of? You already threw a giant potpourri of sensitive and complex themes like culture, history, humanity, morality, economics, politics, and ethnicity into Babel. If you had simply allowed Ramy and Robin's relationship to develop and deepen a little more, perhaps readers could have gained a more profound understanding of Robin. Is same-sex love really that difficult to depict? Even harder than portraying wars and opium addiction? On this point, I truly don't understand you.
3. Language and Translation Compared to the powerful, direct, and even brutal historical narrative, the true brilliance of Babel lies in its deep understanding and masterful use of language. Who would have thought that a word's etymology could hold such a rich and distant history? Who would have thought that different languages could generate magical energy through translation? While the historical world-building is solid, the concept and mechanics of silver-making are not entirely fleshed out and have their fair share of loopholes. However, its originality and charm are undeniable and unparalleled. The unique and complex combination of reality and fantasy, history and fiction is what makes Babel stand out as an award-winning historical fantasy.
Kuang's approach to history is mostly faithful representation with a touch of clever manipulation, but when it comes to language and translation, she incorporates bold imagination and romantic notions. The professors' courses at the Translation Institute, much like magic classes in Harry Potter, are the most captivating parts to read. Every creation and interpretation of a "match-pair" involves the fusion of over a dozen languages and their representative cultural histories, from Chinese and English to Latin, Greek, French, and Sanskrit. Kuang's ambition and ability to handle cross-cultural concepts are truly exceptional. Her own multicultural background is a contributing factor, but it's merely the foundation that allows her to open her mind and broaden her horizons for exploration and creation.
Faced with the vast and profound human languages and the eternal challenge of translation, Babel portrays a fascinating duality in Kuang's attitude. She's humble, honest, and meticulous. It's precisely her faith in and reverence for the power of language that birthed the unique concept of silver and silver-making. But at the same time, she's also confident, even daring, even cavalier, effortlessly transforming over a dozen languages into fantastical and bizarre "spells" through translation. True language and translation scholars will undoubtedly find many flaws in the story. However, for the story of Babel and the cultural and human commonalities it seeks to convey, language is the most fitting and ingenious medium, and translation is the most ancient and enigmatic chain that binds the world together.
The Tower of Babel's plunder of languages is an extension of the fleet's massacres and the empire's oppression. Unequal, distorted, and error-ridden translations riddled with prejudice are on par with the actions of the arrogant white empire that views and conquers the world through a biased lens. The very origin of language is the origin of human civilization, and the development of language is the development of world history – this is a fact we've accepted and acknowledged since ancient societies. But beyond the realm of academic scholars, very few people have the interest or opportunity to experience this deeply. Babel transforms knowledge buried in academia and history into captivating fantasy literature, bringing it to the forefront of modern readers' attention. It's safe to say that history and culture are endless treasure troves, and Kuang is more adept at discovery – unearthing them – than anyone.
4. Flaws and Limitations Let’s be clear that Babel isn't a holy book. It's a highly engaging and fascinating novel, a historical fantasy aimed towards a general audience. As a part of that general audience, I personally adore this book. I read some reviews criticize Babel for lacking depth, philosophy, or Socratic and Marxist elements. To that, I say, come on! Babel won a Nebula Award, not the Nobel Prize in Literature. Kuang is just a doctoral student in her late twenties, still struggling to write her thesis. As a rising star in sci-fi, her background is impressive but not extensive. On the other hand, some readers find Babel to be too heavy, too academic, and too low on magic, staying too close to the historical storyline. For them, I recommend rereading Harry Potter.
For me, and likely for many other readers, Babel's main issue lies in the struggle to achieve harmony between the profoundness of the material and the superficial nature of the genre. Historical fantasy walks a tightrope. While historical accuracy adds a layer of depth and realism, it can also limit the fantastical elements that often draw readers to the genre. Here, Kuang prioritizes the historical narrative, resulting in a magic system that feels underdeveloped at times.
5. Conclusion Babel is a thought-provoking and audacious historical fantasy debut. It's not perfect, but its strengths far outweigh its weaknesses. Kuang's masterful use of language, exploration of colonialism and cultural identity, and unique concept of silver-making make for a truly memorable reading experience. Whether you're a history buff or a fantasy enthusiast, Babel offers something for everyone. Just be prepared for a story that is more interested in challenging the status quo than providing a tidy happily-ever-after ending.
Highly recommend, especially for those who enjoy historical fantasy with a critical edge.
20 years have passed, and the troubled Afghanistan is still swaying in the storm, just like Amir's heart before redemption.
Yes, redemption.
The Kite Ru20 years have passed, and the troubled Afghanistan is still swaying in the storm, just like Amir's heart before redemption.
Yes, redemption.
The Kite Runner seems to be a book about Islamic country and Muslims, but I feel that the author's worldview, values and religious views are all Westernized. Although the author - Khaled Hosseini grew up in Afghanistan and did not move to the United States until he was probably 15, his thoughts when he wrote this novel can be said to be almost completely Westernized. In the novel, he even revealed a seemingly calm sense of superiority in the details many times.
This is very disappointing to me.
The reason is not that Hosseini tells the story from a pro-American standpoint. If the writer is a native American, I would not feel disappointed at all, because clearly, I would be a book that looks at this ancient and mysterious Eastern country from the perspective of Westerners. But the Hosseini is of Afghan descent, and the work is also a debut work that has been a bestseller for many years. So I will definitely read this book with a bit of "reading for the sake of respect", hoping to get a glimpse of the daily life and behavior of the Afghan people in the war. However, the fact is that the author's impression of Afghanistan stopped before the age of 15 (similar to the age when Amir went abroad in the book). After moving to the States, Hosseini may have been deeply influenced by Western education. As a result, the two parts of the story gave me a strong sense of estrangement. The pure simplicity of the first half contrasted with the various tendencies and routines in the second half, resulting in a cliff-like drop in readability after entering the second half.
In my opinion, only the first half is worth reading.
The premise of novel is the friendship between the rich young master Amir and the servant's child Hassan. As a Pashtun, Amir has never regarded Hassan, a Hazara, as his best friend.
Of course, Amir was still young at that time, so he didn't think there was anything wrong with his class superiority. Although he is not the kind of bully, he still enjoys the feeling of being a 'noble'. So although Hassan always admires Amir's talent and status, Amir never stops teasing, mocking, despising and disdaining Hassan. In the end, Hassan's unprovoked and unrequited kindness to Amir is condensed into one sentence at the climax of the first half of the book: "For you, a thousand times over."
I think this sentence is the key point of this novel. The Kite Runner not only refers to Hassan, the kite chaser, but also refers to Amir who chases kites for atonement at the end of the book. Hassan's thousand times over to Amir eventually turned into Amir's thousand times over to Sohrab (Hassan's orphan). It seems that this story has a beautiful and perfect ending at the end.
But my heart knot has not been untied.
I think the reason why The Kite Runner is widely praised is that he bravely faces the cowardly, selfish, and ugly side of human nature, and then comforts himself by confessing and atonement, so that readers who feel the same can be healed. Because such a representative story will touch the pain points of many people - after all, we may have made some mistakes when we were young and ignorant or impulsive, causing harm to others, and then continued to live with regret or guilt for a certain period of time. This is the secret buried in the deepest part of our hearts that we are most reluctant to reveal. Although we know that this is a mistake, we may choose to remain silent because of face, shame to admit, fear of being blamed, or involvement in interests. However, this ugly tumor is always attached to the wall of our hearts. It is peaceful and normal on days, but it will suddenly break out one night and suffocate people.
I was not healed by this book.
Because in my opinion, not only does Amir and Hassan not have pure friendship, but Amir's motivation for atonement is more to heal himself than to save Hassan’s orphan whom he has never met.
Is there really love without reason in this world? I don't believe it. Even if it is love at first sight between men and women, they must be attracted by each other's appearance, figure, temperament, talent, personality, conversation and other conditions. Therefore, I think Hassan's loyalty to Amir is only because he is grateful for the respect and love of Amir's father as a slave.
And the plot that Amir returns to his homeland to save Hassan’s orphan with long-term guilt is even more difficult for me to accept. Not to mention that the part of saving people from the mansion of the bully in his youth seems too childish, even his decision to take the risk of returning home is driven by the author's abrupt and bloody setting of "he is your brother". There is no doubt that this "brother" stalk that came out of nowhere further weakened the already negligible "friendship" between Amir and Hassan.
The ending of this book is also bloody (you can say touching), because at least Hassan left a trace of blood in this world. Although it is a long way to heal Sohrab's spiritual trauma, fortunately there is a glimmer of hope. However, all this can only be seen by the living, so "the spirit in heaven" is just a kind of intangible carrier for the living to comfort themselves when making up for some regrets. And Hassan can no longer see all this, he has died before Amir "became a good man", and he will never get Amir's apology; even if Amir tries hard to chase, he will never get back the kite that belongs only to him and Hassan.
Therefore, although the ending described in the book seems ideal, it is actually an out-and-out tragedy. And we live in reality, so we should be more alert: many times, this world will not leave you a chance to make up for your mistakes; many mistakes, once made, will be regretted for life. The most difficult thing in life is to face your own fears. But if we can realize that some people, some things, and some risks must be bravely protected, faced, and undertaken, perhaps we will have the courage to create miracles, and perhaps we can avoid leaving regrets in the lives of ourselves and our relatives and friends.
Look closely at the kite flying freely in your heart, and never let it get lost.
Loading...
