I LOVE THIS BOOK!! It is the most important novel I have ever read, as it sheds light on life, occupation, cross-cultural issues, and the sometimes fluid approach to writing and truth-telling. I could not put it down.

I highly recommend this novel about culture clash, idealism, and war.

The protagonist is Parveen, a young Afghan-American who has just graduated from college and isn’t sure what she wants to do next. She’s inspired by a book by Gideon Crane, a man who went to Afghanistan, had some gut-wrenching experiences there, started a clinic there, and wrote about it all. And so Parveen, too, goes to the small village in the mountains of Afghanistan, where Crane spent his time, to see what she can do to help.

Parveen is in a strange in-between position. She looks like a native of the region, but she doesn’t have to wear head-to-toe covering when she goes out, and she can talk to both men and women. She speaks both Dari and English, so she is in a position to understand both sides when American soldiers come to the town. But she doesn’t always know what people mean, even when she hears what they say.

The hardest thing for her is to find out that Crane didn’t tell the truth when he wrote about the village, and that she believed him because of her own assumptions about the people there. She spends as much time unlearning as she does learning. The plot is masterful, as every action leads to unforeseen consequences.

The writing is also evocative. Here’s an excerpt:

< On the way back to Waheed’s compound, she would sweep her hand along the village walls, dry and smooth, almost the texture of hands themselves, and try to imagine living within enclosures built by one’s ancestors and that still, beneath layers of repair, held traces of their touch. Throughout the day the walls were repainted by shifts in the sun’s position overhead – warm sand, then ocher, then amber. They were as smooth to the eye as they were to the hand. The village had no visual clutter. No billboards, no advertisements, no graffiti. No names on street signs, no numbers on the homes. The village was washed clean of words. What use did the villagers have for writing? Most of them didn’t know how to read, and anyway they didn’t need such guidance in the village where they’d lived their whole lives. The map of this place, the location of each family compound, had been laid down in every head in childhood, probably around the time language was. >

Amy Waldman's sophomore book is an interesting tale told through the overly idealistic viewpoint of a recent college graduate looking to make her mark on the world of anthropology. Not knowing enough about Afghan culture myself, it's hard for me to discern if this story is accurate in its portrayal of life for women in Afghanistan, but there are certainly times where it seems heavy with cliches. Nevertheless, I appreciate the anti-war sentiment that becomes pervasive in the second half of the book. I agree with Waldman's assessment that the idea of a righteous war is merely window dressing to garner the approval of a polity that considers itself kind. Parveen's persistent denial about Crane's falsehoods strikes me as the most annoying part about the book. She seems far too eager to dismiss several massive discrepencies and while it may be a message about the human penchant for dismissing inconvenient information, the lengths that she goes to to rationalize Crane's versions of events are a bit extreme.

This was a hard book considering the subject matter, but well worth the read. The complexities of war and humanitarian aid are mixed with authentic relationships that grow very naturally over the course of the book.

TLDR: An intellectual and emotional read that questions the integrity and usefulness behind foreign assistance and development projects. Read it for the Afghan Women, the rich landscape, the moral dilemma, which will leave you thinking for days.


This was a book I had picked up at random in the library- and boy am I glad I did. A Door in the Earth is a good example of an engaging fictional story, that has completely usurped the way I think about philanthropy. The story follows our main character Parveen, a budding medical anthropologist from UC Berkeley, who travels to a remote village Afghanistan to see the change in the medical landscape after reading a book about doctor turned criminal turned philanthropist, Gideon Crane, who was hailed as a hero after building a giant clinic. Millions of Americans were swept in Crane's philanthropic frenzy, and along with Parveen, a US military troop also arrive, hoping to change things in Afghanistan for the better. What Parveen learns upon arriving, completely changes her. It changes me too.

Crane's "Mother Afghanistan" reminds me of Greg Mortenson's "Three Cups of Tea". Both end up sharing a similar fate. This book was gorgeous to read. I appreciate how Waldman didn't try to dramatize or distort the landscape. The way she embedded what we would consider abnormal, or even tragic, into everyday life was unsettlingly well done. It made me uncomfortable to read of how the villager's poverty, conflicts, the women's' oppression, was all just routine for them, and I think that was the intent. As for the main character Parveen, I had a love-hate relationship with her. Sometimes she had her own soul, but often times I felt like she was just a mirror, of which the truths revealed throughout the story bounced off of. At times I appreciated her being the gateway to my understanding of the situation as a reader. In a sadistic sense, I appreciated that my shock and horror throughout the story was also projected through her. But at other times, her naivete made me want to smack her head. Rather than Parveen, the best parts of the book came from the other characters. The quiet strength of Bina, whose indifference gave way to a woman trying to make the most out a life which clearly she had no say in. Shokoh and Jamshid, whose hopes that their life would improve through these charity acts painfully fading away throughout the novel. Dr. Yasmeen, torn between desperation for things to change, and the cruel understanding of the harsh realities of her life. Waheed, who was written with subtle compassion, a character I grew to love. And my favorite character, and arguably the most vulnerable, Aziz, a translator forced to be the bridge between the American military troop and the villagers.

Great as this book is, the prose has a lot of tell, and not show. This is mainly because Parveen is written with the intention of just being the reader's door to the story, and it serves as a double-edged sword.

The main question this book brings up is: do foreign projects help or harm more? I am an avid believer in philanthropy, and part of the reason why I felt so unsettled reading this book, was that a part of me shared Parveen's naivete in that foreign assistance was doing nothing but good for other people. I think this is a fantasy that resides in a tiny part in all of us. We like knowing that we are helping people, we like knowing that our efforts, or our philanthropic additions are making a difference, we like having a hero-complex. A Door In the Earth takes off the rosy colored lenses, and opens up the harsh reality, and the nuanced complexity of many foreign philanthropic assistance. These terrible revelations occur in the form of the traces of Crane's legacy in the village, in his clinic, his story, in the ulterior motives of the US troops, the road they want to build, and even in the questionable actions of Parveen's Berkeley Professor. So this brings up an additional question: what can we do about it? How can we ensure foreign assistance, or even our actions, actually help the people it's intended to help. This leads to the final reason of why this book is so startling. It ends abruptly. We don't get a proper conclusion, because a topic as nuanced and complex doesn't have one yet.

The main takeaway from this book? Start questioning the charities and the philanthropies you support. What to they actually do? Do they truly deliver on what they intend to? And as for foreign assistance, it is still very much needed. But I think the main point this book is trying to get across, is that foreign assistance that is blind to the voices, needs, and culture as told, shown, and constantly assessed BY THE ACTUAL LOCALS THEMSELVES, remains just that. Foreign assistance, that's as useless as the shiny clinic Parveen travels across the world to see.

This book was captivating. It approaches a difficult topic in both an intellectual and simplistic way. The protagonist is relatable and like able. The issues in the book are relevant and worthy of contemplation.

Waldman does a wonderful job with a difficult topic. Her story is nuanced, leaving a lot to digest throughout. There are so many motives and decisions to question and struggle over. I thought it was wonderful.

I had read and enjoyed The Submission, Amy Waldman's first novel and when the opportunity to meet her in a small group to discuss A Door in the Earth arose, I took it. This is the story of idealistic Parveen, who has just graduated from the University of California at Berkeley with a degree in Anthropology and is at loose ends trying to decide what's next in her life. Born in Kabul, Afghanistan, her parents emigrated to the United States when she was one year of age. Dr Gideon Crane, an ophthalmologist had traveled to Afghanistan to perform community service after being convicted of Medicare/Medicaid fraud. He built a clinic for under-served women who die at an alarming rate from complications surrounding childbearing and child birth. He wrote a memoir of his experiences in Afghanistan and Parveen has read and absorbed this book, as well as attending a lecture by Dr. Crane. Off she goes to a poor, remote village in Afghanistan to continue Dr. Crane's work. Her naivete in the beginning of the story was very hard for me to get through, and she was very self-absorbed. By the end, I found the whole story fascinating, looking at life through many different villagers' eyes. Amy Waldman was great in conversation; she is a former New York Times Reporter who was sent to Afghanistan in the aftermath of September 11, 2001 and spent a number of years in that region of the world. It was a worthwhile read and a lovely evening.