I haven't
written a book review in a year, and ever since I read this book, I knew I
wanted to re-start writing with this.
I wrote multiple
versions of the review, and deleting all of them, since
- Hosseini is
my favorite author.
- No words can
do justice to his writing.
Here is my
attempt to at least chronicle the experience of reading one of his works.
Synopsis:
The third book by Khaled Hosseini is set in
Afganistan, and revolves around the story of a brother-sister duo, which later branches
out to introduce multiple characters of the plot.
Category:
Simple-Wordy, Serious
Genre:
Fiction, Drama
Language:
No Profanity at all.
Favorite Quote:
Kabul is a thousand tragedies per square mile.
Review:
The book starts
with a father telling their children a fairy tale. While one would expect a "and they lived happily ever
after' at the end of it, being Hosseini's work, this tale moved me to tears, and set the mood for the rest of the book..
The essential
core of the story is the relationship between Abdullah and Pari, where the latter is sold off to a
rich and childless couple Mr.Wahdati and Nila, through the siblings’ uncle,
Nabi. The parting of the siblings, while not described in detail, is explained by
their step-mother, Parwana, in just a few words:
“It had to
be her. I am sorry, Abdullah. She had to be the one.” The finger cut, to
save the hand.
Worse yet is
how the story pans out. While Abdullah, the doting brother, does not have it in
his capacity to forget her, Pari, quickly moves on owing to
her age and a new exciting life. For her, Abdullah is a dim memory, which would strike
her again in full force in her old age.
Hosseini takes periodic
diversions to include the fringe characters (which don't seem like fringe once you are done with the chapter, at least until one starts reading the next one). Thus, we get to know about their
mother Parwana, and her insecurities with her sister Masooma; the insecurity
with started during birth:
(Masooma) was
merrily passed around, from cousin to aunt to uncle. Bounced on this lap,
balanced on that knee. Many hands tickled her soft belly. Many noses rubbed against
hers. They rocked with laughter when she playfully grabbed Mullah Shekib’s beard.
They marveled at her easy, sociable demeanor. They lifted her up and admired
the pink flush of her cheeks, her sapphire blue eyes, the graceful curve of her
brow, harbingers of the startling beauty that would mark her in a few years’
time. As Masooma performed, Parwana watched quietly as though slightly
bewildered, the one member of an otherwise adoring audience who didn’t understand
what all the fuss was about. Every now and then, her mother looked down at her,
and reached to squeeze her tiny foot softly, almost apologetically.
The insecurity, in time, had ghastly consequences – the events penned down in such a
way that you end up feeling sorry for both of them, and their loss of
innocence.
We are
mystified over Mr.Wahdati's marriage with Nila (Pari's adoptive parents), until we understand the meaning
of Nila’s mysterious statement: "It was always you Nabi".
We find out
about Mr.Wahdati's neighbours Idris and TImur and their visit to Afganistan where they meet Roshi, a victim of a bad accident. While we believe one to be worse
over the other for his show of exhibitionism, we are made to realise that it is
this poorly judged character that actually ends up doing a good deed. The
concerned one, who starts making excuses for his lack of inaction justifies it such:
Roshi has
become something abstract to him, like a character in a play. Their connection
has frayed. The unexpected intimacy he had stumbled upon in that hospital, so
urgent and acute, has eroded into something dull. The experience has lost its power.
He recognizes the fierce determination that had seized him for what it really
was, an illusion, a mirage. He had fallen under the influence of something like
a drug. The distance between him and the girl feels vast now. It feels infinite,
insurmountable, and his promise to her misguided, a reckless mistake, a
terrible misreading of the measures of his own powers and will and character.
Something best forgotten. He isn’t capable of it. It is that simple.
Not to be left
behind, we are given a glimpse of life in the siblings' village, through the
eyes of the Adel, son of a wealthy landlord who attains the lands through unethical means, and how Adel ends up adjusting to the truth.
The part of him
that over time would gradually, almost imperceptibly, accept this new identity
that at present prickled like a wet wool sweater. Adel saw that, in the end, he
would probably accept things as his mother had. Adel had been angry with her at
first; he was more forgiving now. Perhaps she had accepted out of fear of her
husband. Or as a bargain for the life of luxury she led. Mostly, Adel
suspected, she had accepted for the same reason he would: because she had to.
What choice was there?
Hosseini has
used different forms of narratives in this book. There is first and third
person narrative, letter-writing and interviews to bring the pieces of the
puzzle together. The novel is completely different from his previous two due to the broader focus. While The Kite Runner was essentially
about children and The Thousand Splendid Suns, about Women in Afganistan, And
The Mountains Echoed lacks a central character theme. It could have been set
up in any country in any part of the world. There are stories of every
character, which, though tied together by some common threads, could make for
an independent reading as well.
None of this
dilutes the fact that it is impossible to read the book without getting
emotional, at one story or another. And that like his previous books, you can
never get your mind off it, even months after reading it.
Verdict:
It would be a
cardinal sin for anyone to not read it.
