There is a thing my mind always does deliberately when I read good novels and that is Imagining. I get so entangled in the novel that I visualize it all, characters, sitting everything. As long as there is a good detailed description, there would be a good detailed visualization. Now I don’t know if that’s a good thing or if I’m just crazy or overdo reading novels but I like it. I would be reading a novel and watching it simultaneously. Crazy? Maybe. I like it.
Yesterday I finished reading “The Kite Runner” by Khalid Hosseini.
The novel is about a 12 year old boy who continued to remain a trapped, guilty, tormented 12 year old boy until he reached 39 years old, where he finally became a free man. Free from his haunting past and free from his self-destructive self.
To me reading that novel was like reading a motion picture or more like watching a movie and all those written lines were just a subtitle. He profusely detailed details of details that forced you to see everything. And you know what, the novel was a motion picture and surely turned you into one. I found myself many times “laughing through my nose, shrugging, raising one eye brow, making tsk tsk sounds and shaking my head.” And because of the intriguingly appalling changes in the course of events and the continual shocks the author kept slapping my face with, it all made me reflect everything on my face. My face was the mirror reflection of the novel. I was Wide eyed in astonishment a 100 times, I gasped as much as I could remember, I shed a tear or two, I was angry all the time at Amir “the hero” I cursed him, wrote Facebook status against him, and he made me throw the novel as hard as I could over his cowardice and genuine fear.
What I liked most about the author is that he never threw a detail for nothing. Every single detail is carefully studied and carefully placed. His details always stood for something, If not in the chapter you’re reading it’s in the next if not the next it will inevitably hit you in the end and leave you with a “DAMN!”
I liked the little reminders Hosseini kept brushing up our memories with and how he linked them with what is happening. And how his reminders were put in a way that made you always say “aaaaah yes yes I remember!!”
I liked the characterization of Amir. How he turned from a self-centered coward kid whose only concern was to get his father’s attention to a well-educated boy who followed his dream of being a writer yet still a coward then a lover who loved so purely and silently then a half coward who almost died saving his niece and at the end A man.
I likeed that, if there is a dramatic scene, it wholeheartedly is a dramatic scene. You would see it everywhere: the pathetic fallacy, the use of words, the punctuation, the full stops and the sad personifications. You would almost feel like the pages you are reading are dim and embittered! And believe me if you saw yourself while reading those sadness-infused pages you would see it reflected on your face with a frown or with crossed eyebrows.
My favorite scene in which I was frowning with a beating heart was the one when Amir was waiting for news about Sohrab when he was at surgery. You know, the only thing lacking about me reading that part was a good background music! I would have picked “I’m Alive by Hans Zimmer” Pearl Harbor soundrack totally suits the situation!
If there was something that I didn’t like in the novel it is that Amir kept calling America his “Home” and kept filling the little kid (Sohrab) with promises of the American dream, and what I didn’t like most was how “Hazara’s” were treated with such inhumanity.
After reading the novel I closed the book and found myself falling into a trance. A trance of thoughts, a trance of clichés! I learned from the novel a good number of clichés. That I rather not mention.