From the Bookshelf of Book Riot's Read Harder Challenge…

We open with a father telling his children a bedtime story -- it’s a parable of sorts about a father forced to sacrifice one of his children to a div (a monster of some sort). He cannot choose, so he draws names from a bowl and is devastated to draw the name of his youngest -- and favorite -- son. The div takes the child away and the father spends years obsessing over how to get his son back. Eventually, the father travels to the div’s home in the mountains, where he learns that his son did not become dinner, but in fact lives in a veritable paradise with the other “sacrificed” children; and the div offers dad a choice: he can take his son back, even though his son is happy and well cared for and doesn’t remember his first family, or he can leave his son in the div’s care and never return. Of course, dad makes the selfless decision, and as a reward, the div takes away his memories of the child so he is no longer in pain. In the second chapter, we meet siblings Pari and Abdullah, the children to whom the father from Chapter 1 was telling his story. They are traveling to Kabul with their father, ostensibly to visit their uncle Nabi (their mother’s brother) at the home of his employers, the Wahdatis. However, once the family arrives, the reason for the father’s bedtime story becomes clear -- Pari is going to stay with the Wahdatis; she’s been “sold” into a better life. The Wahdatis are a wealthy couple, unable to have children of their own, and Saboor and his family need the money the Wahdatis can provide, in exchange for their youngest child. So three-year-old Pari is separated from the only family she has ever known, leaving behind her beloved older brother Abdullah, and younger half-brother Iqbal.

The narrative shifts its focus with each chapter, so that we hear from Uncle Nabi, Abdullah and Pari’s mother Parwana, Pari herself as an adult, Dr. Markos (who lives in the Wahdati house after Suileman’s death), and finally Abdullah’s daughter, also named Pari, for the sister he never forgot. I loved the different perspectives here, and also that Hosseini didn’t stick with one form of narration -- some of the chapters are in first person, some in third, Nabi’s is in the form of a letter he writes to Markos, the elder Pari’s is intercut with an interview with her mother (Nali Wahdati). I love that we end with the younger Pari, Abdullah’s daughter, allowing the story to come full circle (view spoiler)[ although how tragic that when brother and sister finally reunite, Abdullah doesn’t even remember her (hide spoiler)]. I’m not totally convinced we needed the story of Idris and Roshi (the little girl in the hospital), however. I suppose we’re meant to make the connection to Markos through the nurse Amra -- that children like Roshi are the reason Markos eventually decided to move to Kabul (and as just a standalone short story, that chapter is pretty heartbreaking!). It’s also interesting that we catch up with Iqbal not through Iqbal himself, but through a story about Adel, the son of a warlord (or war criminal?) whose ostentatious mansion is built on the land where Iqbal and Abdullah’s house once stood. Through these characters, Hosseini shows how much the country changed in a few short years; it’s shocking without being preachy. And finally, although I enjoyed pieces of Markos’s story (and I think it’s meant to parallel younger Pari’s, extending the theme that eventually the children become the parents, and we must take care of those who once took care of us), I’m not convinced he needed quite so much “page time,” as it were. Again, like Idris and Roshi, the story actually stands alone quite well, but his connection to what I thought of as the larger narrative (Abdullah and Pari’s family) was a bit tenuous to justify so much time spent on his story. I actually would have rather heard more about elder Pari’s children -- we know she and Thierry had some sort of falling out, but it’s never expounded upon, and then by the end it’s seemingly resolved. He’s a missionary in Africa! That’s bound to be an intriguing story! I would have enjoyed hearing a chapter from his perspective, instead of spending so much time with Markos.

But really, my only quibbles here are minor. This book quickly sucked me in, and I had a hard time putting it down, while at the same time wishing it wouldn’t end. It’s one of those books that you want to somehow read both quickly and slowly. I won’t lie, I did have to go back and make notes on each chapter, just to remind myself whose perspective we were seeing each time. Doing that actually made me go back and reread bits and pieces, which clarified a few connections I missed the first time around (Adel’s chapter felt like nonsense until I realized who his friend’s father was). I also liked that, although I have zero cultural reference for 80% of the settings here, I never felt bothered by it. Though there are sections in Paris and Greece (and San Francisco, in the end...although did I miss how Abdullah managed to get to San Fran?), the majority of the novel takes place in and around Afghanistan. I have to admit, it’s a country I know next to nothing about, but I like that Hosseini doesn’t pander to the audience here. It’s like...he’s aware that many readers won’t know much about Middle Eastern culture, but he’s not going to waste a bunch of time info-dumping. And it’s interesting that we see the characters themselves have different ideas about Afghanistan (Idris being drawn into it while he is there, and suddenly seeing his life in the states through new eyes; elder Pari being assumed to speak for all Middle Easterners, even though she left for France at age 7), and the changes in the country over time (I feel like that is the true purpose of Adel’s chapter). I feel like I’m doing a terrible job of explaining here! But I think this will be a great lesson for my students next year in relating to stories from different cultures (because if I have to read one more book report on Pretty Little Liars that says “I couldn’t relate to any of the characters because I have never been stalked,” I’m going to scream!). I found myself able to relate to many of the characters’ struggles here, because Hosseini wants us to realize that no matter where we are, some things are universal.