Visceral, frightening that this kind of world exists for women- still, and unbelievably sad, I had a hard time getting through this book- especially w...moreVisceral, frightening that this kind of world exists for women- still, and unbelievably sad, I had a hard time getting through this book- especially when I figured out a major plot twist early on. However sharply this novel focuses on the life of a poor woman in Bombay India, which it did well, it lacked a certain sense of hope that I need by the end of a tale to make me fall for a story.
Sure Bhima, the main character, let go of her pain in the end, and I suppose sometimes the sense of utter hopelessness and inevitability makes for gripping story telling as it engages quite a few emotions. But every man in this book treated women as offal to be wiped from the bottom of their shoes and more damning for me, the women betrayed each other at just about every turn. Because of this, the simple metaphoric ending just wasn't... enough. (Especially considering all they went through.) If this were non-fiction I wouldn't have the same desire because I know full well how very real these situations are. But when its told in fiction, I like to see a redemptive resolution.
Perhaps if we had some sorta epilogue letting us know the women are okay? I don't know, their stories just begged for reparation, even if it only meant them living free from bitterness for once, however fantastical it seems. As mentioned earlier, something of the sort is alluded to at the end, but we don't get to see it and that frustrated me.
I cant believe I'm saying this but I almost wish Bhima had committed suicide at the end- like I *thought* we were headed- although I would have hated that too. At least it wouldn’t have felt so artificial. (Umrigar was so real with everything else- Why end it with a cheap metaphor??)
Here's something about me and books- even if I don’t like the way a plot or ending goes, if it’s true to the characters I can at least respect it. This felt too contrived.
So yeah. Not for me. Not a bad writer- she made Bhima's pain filled world feel very real- but in the end disappointing.(less)
I felt a bit apprehensive picking up The Kite Runner, considering all the buzz about it. (I don't trust overhyped books.) But, thankfully, it lived up...moreI felt a bit apprehensive picking up The Kite Runner, considering all the buzz about it. (I don't trust overhyped books.) But, thankfully, it lived up to the publicity.
The story starts off set in Afghanistan, before the Taliban were in control and even before Russia began their campaign. It could have been set in the deep south of America prior to 1960 for that matter, or in Berlin right around the time Hitler reigned supreme, or perhaps more closely to regency England and colonial India- the climate is the same.
Two little boys, one rich Pashtun, one of the servant class Hazara, two litle boys who shouldn't care about each other, yet they are friends- or as close to it as two opposing classes can be.
My favorite stories are the ones that delve into the issues that darken a good man's soul. I love watching characters work their way to salvation. Some who didn't like TKR, say that Amir, the narrator and main character, is too selfish to be likable. And it's true, in the beginning, he is a bit selfish- he is not a nice little boy at times. In fact, his selfishness hits a low point when he sees his best friend, a servant boy named Hassan who is as close to him as a brother, viciously attacked- and stands by doing nothing to stop it. (It was a tough thing to observe as a reader!)
Still, I believe in hanging with a character to see where the author takes them. Hosseini did a fine job of rescuing Amir, in my eyes. The hero's guilt-ridden conscience is what proves to me that he is in fact redeemable, after such an act of reprehensible cowardice. If Amir had moved on without a glance back, I would have thrown the book at the wall and not finished it.
Thankfully I didn't have to. Eventually Amir grows to manhood, moves to America though not knowing what happened to his old friend (and too guilty to think about it), he marries, becomes a successful writer and, through it all, never lets himself find the forgiveness his soul so desperately wants.
Don't fret, Amir gets the chance to go back to his homeland and make things right. And he does so in a way that broke my heart. (The last scenes had me in tears!!)
Other criticisms for this book have said that it's too clichéd, too made for movieland. I have to agree, at times it was predictable- the "big twist" I saw coming a mile away, and I frankly wanted to shake Amir for not seeing it as soon as I did! All I've got to say is, what's so wrong with that?!
Ok, I'll also agree with some other naysayers that say some of the plot resolutions for the characters were a tad convenient. But I seriously didn't notice it until I thought about it later- and read some of the reviews. I think I so wanted this to have a happy ending, I just went along with it.
Anyway, despite the fact that I'm in agreement on some of these issues,(a bit, just a bit), I think the good far outweighs the bad. This is the kind of tale that sticks with you, the kind that I obsess over, much like I did when I first got a hold of Les Miserables. In FACT, much of what I adore about Les Miz is in this one. (And the author references Les Miz briefly just to prove the point!) Both the stories share the search for the balance of justice and mercy, of familial love and hate, and also finding forgiveness and the strength to pick ourselves up when we find our faces in the mud of guilt and shame.
TKR is not a romance, but it is a love story. A love story between fathers and sons, and those we call brothers- of the heart, if not blood. Their story touches on the complexities of familial love and accurately shows that, at times, we can love and hate those we feel the closest too.
Touted for its literary quality and lyrical, poetic prose; I of course had to work through that negative mark against it. (That kind of stuff always f...moreTouted for its literary quality and lyrical, poetic prose; I of course had to work through that negative mark against it. (That kind of stuff always feels pretentious to me.)
Despite all the annoying overwritten prose, use of Caps To Emphasize Phrases, Short. Sentences. and obvious affectation, I couldn't seem to put it down.
Set in Kerala, India, during the late 1960s the books tells the story of fraternal twins Rahel (female) and Estha (male). It circles around them and moves in and out between them as children and then as adults- most times in the very next scene, rather than chapter- so fast, it made my head spin.
The author uses obvious foreshadowing and builds up to revealing the night that Sophie (the twins' "English cousin") drowned, showing the family tensions that led to the twins' behavior on that night. And believe me there's a ton of tension. The men in the family are mean and abusive, and the women are bitter and resigned. This is not a romanticized view of family life in India. It's brutal and depressing.
The author also weaves in the political atmosphere of that time; when the effects of the caste system were still evident and communism was vying for position.
The story is mainly written from Rahel's POV, but there is one scene, haunting me even now, that gives a clue as to why her twin Estha retreated inside himself and refused to speak anymore. I believe the big climax involving their cousin's death seals it for him, but that other incident, set him well on that path to shutting down.
The techinical aspects took this novel down a notch for me, but for the haunting story I'm giving it a 4 out of 5.(less)
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