I am not sure what to call this fiction - neo-colonialist? (White, well-bred Westerners writing about perceived hardships in ‘developing’ countries.)
It’s that, anyway.
A lot may be ‘forgiven’ for when the book was written - during the fin de siècle, before the events of 2001 - and under what circumstances: the internet had a different tone, newsroom op-eds had much heavier sway; information was far more limited. Accommodations have to be made for that zeitgeist.
(And from notes in the book itself, Afghani women in Pakistani refugee camps seem to have been the author’s primary sources.)
It has a fast-paced narrative, sometimes too much so, told in straightforward language that is easily absorbable to a wide spectrum of young teenage readers. There are a range of Health and Wellbeing and Globalism/Sustainability-type topics to stop and discuss. It’s decent for that.
The problems really come during an adult reading.
There is an imbalanced leaning to the political Left - tones, content. It is effectively political literature more than human: the family read like (banal - it must be said) avatars of an Upper Middle Class family from the English Home Counties.
Everything from the mannerisms of Mrs. Weera, mother’s child-deferring depression, the brand of sibling rivalry, the necessity of creating a school (which beams obviously from its heart the curricular notions of the traditional British classroom of the 19th and 20th centuries), and most of all: the whole drive to create a magazine and spread anti-government opinion as soon as an income is established (here the question of child abuse rises regarding Parvana’s whole situation). In effect, this is a by-numbers Western family of the type mentioned above; crediting the original point about political literature. Brace for that if you are looking for something purely human (emotive).
This is all supplanted by the complete absence of God (Allah). Not only is God apparently absent from their lives, he is never discussed. I am not an Afghani female, but I feel I would have found this insulting if I were.
Likewise, the burqa seems to function as the removable prison we are taught it to be in the West. It would appear unthinkable that some women find liberation under it - their spirits unburdened from the avarice inherent in pressures to gain attention.
And perhaps all the women of Afghanistan really do desire the lives of the English Middle Class set, and perhaps they are helplessly imprisoned psychologically and socially by a ‘backward’ patriarchal society and culture.
Personally, I like to give them more credit.