Though on the surface an unusual success, The Kite Runner actually has a lot in common with other bestsellers. In particular, it reminds me a lot of The Book Thief and [b:Atonement|6867|Atonement|Ian McEwan|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1320449708l/6867._SY75_.jpg|2307233], all of which grapple with similar themes and maintain a similarly grim mood. The obvious difference, however, is the setting of Afghanistan: this must be the most famous depiction of the country intended for an English-speaking audience, and has sort of become the company’s trademark product in the West. For me this was certainly the most interesting aspect of the book, with the depictions of Afghan culture and the description of the eve of the revolution proving highlights, particularly the initial false sense of security followed by the ‘bloodletting’ of the aftermath, and the fragmentation of the Afghanis themselves as some flee and others remain. I also appreciated the little insight provided into Farsi literature, intertwined with the protagonist’s journey into writing.

It would be a stronger novel if these had been more major aspects, and the weaker aspects more minor.

The protagonist and narrator, Amir, progresses from a bratty, selfish child to a conscientious adult repentant for his past transgressions.

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Not only does he accept Hassan as his true brother and equal, whereas his childhood self felt jealousy and resentment towards him despite his own privilege, but he acknowledges that his father might have seen Hassan as his ‘true’ son despite his illegitimacy because of his moral goodness

. This is one of the stronger aspects of the novel. However, apart from the protagonist, the characters in general are rather one-sided, and this makes the story as a whole more predictable since both the characters and story tend to conform to type: the larger-than-life father; the faithful, pious family servant; the saintly, self-sacrificial poor child etc. I also thought

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Soraya being infertile and having Hassan’s son Sohrab become their adoptive son

was a bit cliché and sentimental (though to be honest a lot of the book was cliché and sentimental). I think the culprit may be an effort to make it as accessible as possible for a general audience, but even if this is the case, I feel there is no need to simplify people to this extent.

In any case, this novel about Afghanistan is clearly packaged to conform to the expectations of the Western reader. Western meddling in the region is almost entirely ignored (barring one reference to British intervention in the region), Russia is focused upon as the malevolent foreign invader, and the origins and motivations of the Taliban are omitted in favour of generic villainy. America is only really featured as a peaceful, stable sort of country to where Amir and his father escape, in contrast to the Islamic world, the chaotic portrayal of which will already be comfortably familiar to a Western audience. (Apparently in an earlier draft Amir marries an American woman, but the author was advised to change this when aspects of the character’s backstory were deemed unrealistic, so there might have been more cultural comparison before this change.) This also means that the background of the upheavals Afghanistan undergoes is brushed over in favour of a character-driven story about individuals which ultimately fails to illuminate these issues.

These weak points — the characters, the setting, and the political context — are united under the weakness of simplification. The simplicity and moral messaging reads like a children’s book, but is unsuitable for that audience because of the repeated theme of

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sexual violence

. The fable-like black-and-white morality and simplistic portrayal of complex political upheavals are no doubt part of its appeal, but the overall basic-ness of the novel irked me a bit. This is best exemplified by the portrayal of the Taliban: the actual origins and motivations of the organisation are not covered in the text. Instead, the ‘face’ of the Taliban in the novel is

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Assef

, a Hitler-loving half-German sociopath

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paedophile

whose origins and motivations do not exemplify the real Taliban and serve more to mark him out as a generic villain and disconnects this aspect of the story from the examination of Afghan culture and tradition, and how this creates the divides between Pashtun and Hazara, Sunni and Shi’a, rich and poor, that form the bedrock of conflict for the novel.

Fortunately it doesn’t form a central aspect of the plot, but I also took issue with the portrayal of women. For one thing, I didn’t find it realistic for Hassan’s mother to abandon her child only a week after giving birth, both because most women are still incapacitated a week later and their post-natal bonding hormones would be raging (though I suppose she could have been one of those mothers who struggles to make a connection). This, combined with the description of the easy and quick birth of a smiling child, I did not find believable, especially given the setting. On the other hand, Amir’s mother, who died in childbirth, is the stereotypical, saintly dead mother. Other female characters are also not drawn complexly, even

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Amir’s wife, who gets a lot of build-up as a character but is ultimately absent for the last part of the novel

. The major characters are all men, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing but I feel is worth noting given the above, and given that the book criticises the Taliban’s misogyny but does not make much of an attempt to imagine its female characters with nuance or examine women’s roles in Afghan culture. The novel portrays some of the sexism directed at women within Afghan society (pre- and post-Taliban takeover), but never does much to examine or refute it. As I have said, the characters in general are simplistic and conform to type a little too much for my liking, but I felt this was particularly a problem with the women. However, I recognise that the book is primarily an exploration of male relationships, so I will only judge this aspect insofar as it reflects the flatness of the characters (besides the protagonist) overall.

Finally, I can’t agree with the moral principle laid out by Amir’s father that is supposed to encompass the message of the book, that being that stealing is the only real sin: “When you kill a man, you steal a life…[y]ou steal his wife’s right to a husband, rob his children of a father. When you tell a lie, you steal someone’s right to the truth. When you cheat, you steal the right to fairness.” I suppose the real message is that you shouldn’t encroach upon the rights of others, but I didn’t feel this was well reflected in the plot, particularly

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Hassan’s rape — what exactly is this ‘stealing’ from him? Surely more than his childhood innocence, since it’s also wrong to rape an adult? Perhaps his right to his own body? — and the concealment of Hassan’s true parentage: not only did Amir’s father not explicitly ‘lie’ about this, but he neither stole Ali’s wife nor did he steal Ali’s opportunity to be a father, nor Amir’s opportunity to have a relationship with his brother, especially since that was something that Amir lost through his own actions

. I suppose this becomes another oversimplification that doesn’t quite work, but the idea itself is interesting. Here, as in other aspects, the author has grappled with many potentially powerful elements, but set overstretched himself (and perhaps, more cynically, the net of his readership) in his attempt to express something profound in such simple terms, and has along the way lost their potency in the execution.