Wow. I read The Kite Runner practically in one sitting. I came home from church not feeling well. We cancelled a family dinner. At least 6 people have urged me, passionately urged me to read this book. So I started reading about 1:30 p.m. After the first hundred pages I insisted Curt and Collin sit and listen and went back and read the first four chapters aloud. I did a little editing on the fly for the sake of my teenaged son.
I finished at 12:09 a.m. this morning. I’m processing, processing. So many thoughts. I heartily concur with the reviews: beautiful and brutal, full of tenderness and terror. When I thought it could not get any worse, it did. But I absolutely could. not. put. the. book. down. I’m so thankful to have some understanding of Afghan culture where previously I had none. Hosseini shows the terror of living under Taliban rule.
I could relate so well to the part where he was talking to an old beggar in Kabul. It turned out that the beggar had taught at the university with Amir’s mother, who had died giving birth to Amir. The beggar shares his memories of Amir’s mother with Amir.
“Baba had always described my mother to me in broad strokes, like, “She was a great woman.” But what I had always thirsted for were the details: the way her hair glinted in the sunlight, her favorite ice cream flavor, the songs she liked to hum, did she bite her nails?”
“What else? What else did she say?”
The old man’s features softened. “I wish I remembered for you. But I don’t. Your mother passed away a long time ago and my memory is shattered as these buildings. I am sorry.”
The prose is so beautiful it makes you ache. I loved reading my friend Katie’s book and seeing what she underlined. I think I must get my own copy and mark it up myself. My heart is bruised right now. Lord, have mercy.