Wednesday, 10 June 2009


Against my better judgment, and with blatant disregard for the summer reading rules I set myself, I attempted The Kite Runner last week.

I read the first couple chapters over the weekend, then went to bed early (9:30!) with the book, planning to read for a half hour or so before the Sandman came.

And now I rue the day all my friends and all my co-workers told me what a good book it was. I rue the day I ignored my instincts. (Those sentences should be said in the "I pity the fool" voice.)

By the time Hassan and his crippled father were trudging away from their home with all their earthly possessions, I wanted (seriously) to track down every copy of the book in existence, and BURN THEM ALL.

I despise Amir with a fire that scalds my soul every time I think about him, and I put down the book indefinitely, choosing instead to write my own ending - one in which that evil, guilty little 12-year-old boy is burned at the stake.

I don't even like him enough to finish the book about him, and I don't care how many times his best friend Hassan forgives him for STANDING BY AND DOING NOTHING while Hassan was brutally raped, and then TELLING NO ONE, and then FRAMING him for STEALING so that Hassan and his father would get sent away and life would be more comfortable for AMIR.

I can't forgive him. And Hassan, who forgave his friend (who behaved like his worst enemy) at least seventy times? Seriously, I lost a piece of my heart for Hassan. It broke off and bounced around my ribcage for a while, shredding what was left of my aortic pump, and at some point during the night (which consisted of about 5 hours of sleep and 3 hours of crying and tossing and yelling into my pillow) it fell out of me and went away.

Did I spoil the book for you? I'm so sorry. But since I can't fulfil my dream of burning every copy, I'm just going to do what I can to ensure that anyone who hasn't read this book WON'T, that you'll all treat your own aortas with more respect, and not have to learn the hard truth about yourself that I learned.

I really and truly can't forgive Amir. Seriously, I can't. This does not bode well for my future as an unconditionally loving parent.

I do feel somewhat better now that my friend has told me the rest of the story, and I know that later in the book he gets the crap beat out of him.

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