Customer Reviews

The Bookseller of Kabul

5 star:		(60)
4 star:		(69)
3 star:		(24)
2 star:		(6)
1 star:		(9)

 

 

Sierstad has written an outstanding book---her writing is lyrical (or at least the translation is!) and the subject is fascinating. Contrary to what other reviewers have said, Sierstad never claims that her family is representative of the Afghani people (in her introduction, she notes that she picked the Khan family because she found them and their stories compelling---she says, however, that the family is by no means typical as they are literate, middle class and urban).

That said, the book does provide a penetrating look at a complex and complicated family forced to live under horrific conditions. Within the context of his society, Sultan Khan is an enlightened and liberal man. No fundamentalist, he reads widely and believes in freedom of thought and speech. But for all that Khan is a liberal man in a conservative society---he is still a product of a highly conservative society. As such, he is a polygamist and a man who forces his sons to bind to his will.

Khan is not a likeable man but his story, which the author tells in great detail, goes a long way in explaining who he is and why he acts as he does. As a bookseller, Khan was tortured first by the Soviets and then by the Taliban. Not surprisingly, he seeks, above all, to protect himself and all he owns (which for him, includes his family) from the ravages of war. This means, of course, that Khan forces the members of his family to do his bidding (his sons are taken from school and forced to work in his businesses etc.).

Khan is a despot. His actions toward his two wives, his children, his siblings and his nephews all reflect his desire to control his fate in a society which has allowed him no control over his own life. That doesn't excuse him, of course. As a westerner reading the book (and as a woman), I was appalled by Khan's horrific treatment of his wives---I found it fascinating that Khan could easily reject those aspects of Islam which he found demanding (praying five times a day) while adhering to those which work to his benefit (polygamy and the right to a teenage wife when he is in his 50s).

The book isn't a simple man--bad, woman-good type of book. Look closely at the female characters (Khan's mother is as much a despot as Khan himself is)---their lives are equally complex and they are deeply nuanced individuals. On the flip side (and this can't be denied), women in Afghanistan suffer under the hands of men.

I strongly recommend this book!

...but Sultan Khan had his head in the clouds if he thought he was going to emerge from this journalist's immersion in his family's life looking like a benevolent god. He's suing her, as the book-reading world knows by now, for something like defamation of character. I'm sure he thought she would extol his virtues; instead, she wrote honestly of the fiercely patriarchal Afghanistan/Muslim traditional family structure that keeps his tyranny intact and subjugates all women, regardless of their educational level or social status.
The Bookseller of Kabul reads more like good New Journalism. It's not great literature; it's great reportage. But it gives a voice to the women in the extended Family (meant in the broadest sense of the word), a voice that speaks for millions of women in the Middle East, a voice that must be heard. Especially heartbreaking is the fate of Leila, sister of Sultan Khan, educated, literate, bright - but unable to speak up for herself to escape a lifetime of servitude.

In November 2001, after the fall of the Taliban, the Norwegian journalist Åsne Seierstad befriended a bookseller in Kabul who invited her to his home for dinner. Before long they agreed for her to live in Sultan Khan's home for three months in order to write a book about about his family. The Bookseller of Kabul, an international bestseller translated into thirty languages, and the most successful nonfiction book in Norwegian history, chronicles Seierstad's first person narrative about her experiences of Afghan gender roles, education, politics, religion, and culture.

At first Seierstad thought she had met a remarkably liberated Afghan man. Sultan was an ardent bibliophile who loved books and ideas. In a country where three-quarters of the population is illiterate, he had amassed a collection of 10,000 books, including rare manuscripts, that he had squirreled away around town. He survived the Soviet communists and the Islamic fundamentalists, and spent time in jail for anti-Islamic behavior. He despised the Taliban who burned his books. His family was wealthy by local standards, his opinions about women appeared liberal, he bought his wife western clothes in Iran, and derided the burka as a symbol of his beloved country's backwardness and oppression.

At home Seierstad discovered an altogether different Sultan, and for the most part her narrative reads like a cultural expose. She begins by telling the story of how Sultan took sixteen-year-old Sonya as his second wife, much to the grief of his first wife Sharifa. At home Sultan was an unapologetic tyrant toward everyone in his family. His two wives and daughters slaved away at cooking and cleaning. He consigned his twelve-year-old son to sell candy in a dark and dank stall that he called "the dreary room." When a poor carpenter stole some post cards from his shop to feed his seven children, Sultan was merciless. The book alternates between describing the particular abuse in Sultan's home, and that in broader Afghan culture. A first-grader, for example, learns the alphabet by memorizing the following: "I is for Israel, our enemy; J is for Jihad, our aim in life; K is for Kalishnikov, we will overcome; . . . M is for Mujahedeen, our heroes; . . . T is for Taliban. . . "

The Bookseller of Kabul captures everyday life in a country ravaged by twenty years of war and characterized by deep cultural conservatism. In an ironic postscript to the book's wild success, Sultan has sued Seierstad and her publisher for libel in a Norwegian court. He insists that his hospitality was abused, his personal life was slandered, and that his family has been endangered, so he has, in good western fashion, demanded what his lawyer has called "redress and compensation."

After having read this book in the original language (Norwegian) as soon as it came out, and then reread it in the English translation, the conclusion remains: this is an intriguing account of an atypical Afghan family's life presented in simplistic and a bit mundane language. The author, Asne Seierstad, is foremost a journalist who has shown a remarkable sense of bravery and an admirable disregard for her snobbish literary critics (she was quickly belittled in her native Norway by fellow writers and critics). Her book, however, is an important contribution to the contemporary literature on Afghan life, culture, women, and even Islam.

The strength of the book lies is her observations of the individual family members through her modern feminist Western eyes; however, at times this is also its weakness since it becomes quite obvious that the more "unsympathetic" (male) members of the family do not get quite the nuanced descriptions as the more symphatetic (female) members. The bookseller himself, Sultan Khan, is the most obvious example. Seierstad is not quite able (perhaps understandably so) to portray with conviction his more admirable sides - it is as if his chauvinistic and self-important characteristics cannot coexist with a more complex, idealistic and interesting personality. Sure, she tries to explain that she was grateful to him for his hospitality, and she makes some half-hearted attempts to describe his heroic efforts in his resistance to the Taliban's censorships of his beloved books; however, she is not quite able to convey the bookseller's real and heartfelt motives for doing so. In addition, when referring to his passion for literature (espcially poetry), it seems almost as if it constitutes just a sidenote in Sultan's personality.

Luckily, in her introductions she has included a note about her enraged feelings as a Western female when she says that she has never been so angry as when she was living with this family and that she has never had such desire to hit someone. This "confession" is important because it shows her honest and unavoidable bias in her portrayals.

One of the best parts of the book is her descriptions about Mansur's pilgrimage on which she is allowed to travel. Another memorable account is the devastatingly heart-wrenching tale about the postcard thief. The most sympathtic character in the book is Leila, Sultan's youngest sister, and with whom the author had the closest relationship. Knowing the bond that formed between these women, it does not feel overly contrived when Seierstad "goes inside" this girl and describes her dreams and disappointments. Through Seierstads Western feminine portrayal of Leila, she becomes the ultimate representative of victimized womanhood under Islam.

Finally a note about the translation: overall it does the book justice. The book in its original language is not a literary masterpiece and the language is often riddled with overly simplistic expressions. This might present a dilemma for the translating process since a translator can not allow herself to improve on the original language. And when translating a certain cliched phrase, it can be hard to find a representative substitute in the new language; however, to be true to the original feel of the text, it might be necessary to include such a phrase. That said, this book should be read for its content and not for its prose. In addition, I recommend this book as a part of a wider representation of Middle Eastern contemporary books such as The Kite Runner, Reading Lolita in Tehran and West of Kabul, East of New York.

Seirstad's book writes about the truth, but with no compassion for the culture. She glosses over the fact that the Bookseller allowed her into his (would you invite her over?) home and focuses on all of the bad things about his Afghan home and culture. She presents a truthful account but one that is lacking of any true insight. She presents a Western (and highly judgmental) view of the 'backward' Afghan culture. If that's all you want - read a newspaper. Seirstad recounts all of her experiences dutifully but couldn't (or didn't try?) to get into the joyfulness & complexity that is Afghan culture. Or even why Afghan culture operates the way that it does. It's an outsider's account of Afghanistan and there's plenty of that already. If you want a better account of Afghanistan:

- The Storyteller's Daughter by Saira Shah - memoir, she rocks
- Mir Tamim Ansary - West of Kabul, East of New
York - first Afghan-American memoir I read, I loved it.
- Kiterunner - Khaled Hosseini (fiction but on point, when is he coming out with another?)
- Kabul - ME Hirsh (fiction, also on point - I don't know how a non-Afghan can have such a compelling and truthful account of Afghanistan. Read my cousin Homira's review on Amazon)

**There are more, but this is a good start.

.. of the the dismal servanthood (should we say slavery?) of women under Islam. Written in the context of the life of the women of and near to a relatively modern and tolerant Afghan who loves books, and who survived both the Russians and the Taleban. Accounts of the hospitality and lives of men under Islam are quite sympathetic (see the fantastic books of hiking, mountain climbing, and adventure by Wilfred Thesiger and Eric Newby, and also the more recent one by Jason Elliott), but the lives of women, not told in those books, are lives of repression and servitude.

Some have written that Aasne Seierstad is 'ungracious' to her bookseller host, and I agree that she is, but her story is of the women too important not to have been written. On might tend to discount her account for 'lack of understanding' because she's Norwegian, and Scandinavia (thank God!) is the home of male-female equality, of feminism in its best form. However, there is also Siba Shakib's (earlier) parallel account of the misery of Islamic women ("Nach Afghanistan kommt Gott nur noch zum Weinen"), following the life of a dirt-poor refugee and her growing family, and Shakib is Iranian. I recommend that you read both books and judge for yourself. Shakib points out that Kabul girls were forced by the Russians either to go to school to learn to read and write, or go to prison, and that that was effectively an act of long-term liberation for the women. It made them rebellious. The ideal in Afghanistan apparently is that of a servile, uneducated woman who does not question the man. That standard was applied severly by the outrageous pre-medieval fundamentalist rules imposed by the Taleban. One would have to go back to medieval Europe for the phenomenon of profiting from daughters by selling them to old men for marriage. See, e.g., Liv Ullmann's film of Sigrid Unset's "Kristin Lavransdatter" for a scene of a wailing teenager being carried off on horseback behind a toothless geezer.

A list of the puritanic rules imposed by the Taleban is given in one of Seierstad's chapters. For an entire book that takes the outlawing of kites as its theme, see "The Kite Runner", also first rate literature, written by an Afghan-American.

This review is based on the Swedish translation, "Bokhandlaran i Kabul" (bought at a gas station while travelling north on E-6 this summer), is fascinating, and is closest to the Norwegian original. Maybe the books by Seierstad, Shakib (see amazon.co.uk or amazon.de for an English translation of Shakib from German), and Khalid Hosseini are three of the most informative books in our era of terrorism by religious fundamentalists against freedom loving peoples.

A note: the author's name is spelled Aasne or Åsne, not Asne, and is pronounced more or less 'Oasne' (the last 'e' is always pronounced in Indo-Germanic languages, excepting English, including Dari, spoken in Afghanistan).

While reading the book I often thought, "Is this non-fiction or fiction?" Perhaps the introduction is what confused me. The author writes that during her time in Afghanistan she stayed with the Sultan's family and was able to communicate with 3 family members who spoke English. She indicates that it is from their perspective that she writes but more than 3 members' perspectives are used in the book. The reader is left confused as to when something is the author's perspective and when it is a family member's. Throughout the book, she uses Western values in her analysis of events. She does not try to get past her own stereotypes to see something of value in her host country. While I have no doubt that "traditional values" of male superiority exist in Afghan culture, she seems to overemphasize it. She doesn't analyze why the women in Sultan's family were allowed to refuse to help him find a second wife. When it comes to the issue of schooling, he doesn't just refuse the women, he refuses his sons the education they want as well. She paints everything in black and white instead of recognizing the shades of gray that must exist. I did finish the book because I kept hoping that there would be something in the end to redeem itself. I didn't find it.

This book was an easy read and could be read by teens interested in other cultures.
It details the life of a family in Kabul and shows the complete domination of the senior male which is the cultural tradition. It is not only the females, including his two wives, but also his sons who are completely stifled by his rule. I'm sure he doesn't perceive himself to be a bad man or even regard that he is ruining so many lives.He is simply folowing cultural tradition. But one cannot help but share their despair.
I understand the bookseller is contemplating a lawsuit. I think the author was extremely fair to him. I think the real problem is that this was the first time that anyone in his personal life did not submit to his control. And it was a woman! His honor and the imperative that he not appear weak have been severely threatened in his eyes.

I found this book extremely fascinating and disturbing. I thought the author was a most courageous woman and I was intrigued by her ability to obtain such intimate entry into the life and throughts of the Khan family. I would like to comment, however, for the benefit of those who have not read this book and who might be influenced by some of the other reviews, that this is hardly just an expose of how badly WOMEN are squelched in Afghan society. I was equally disturbed by the manner in which many of the MEN were squelched and made to suffer, and in my opinion they did not enjoy a much better life than the women in spite of their significantly greater freedoms.

For example, Sultan never allowed his son Mansur to pursue any of his dreams either, and forced him to work in his store instead, against the young man's wishes. An impoverished employee of the store who embezzled a few postcards was handed justice that by Western standards is horrific, and largely at the hands of Sultan's son Mansur, who was much opposed to the thief's treatment but whose hand was forced, against his personal principles, by his domineering father. In addition, the romantic love of men for women was as thwarted as that of the women, and the rules and restrictions regarding suitors was barbarically stringent.

I wish the reviewers had not focused so wholly on the book's portrayal of the constraints on women, for I felt that the treatment of men and women alike in this family was appalling, and I sympathized equally with some of the men, who suffered as well.

Just after the fall of the Taliban regime, the author, an award winning Norwegian journalist, lived in Afghanistan with a middle class bookseller and his family for three months. What emerged from her intimate association with this family is a book that almost reads like a novel, so riveting is the account of life in post Taliban Afghanistan.

The bookseller, Sultan Khan, is a canny and shrewd business man, as well as a devout Muslim, who despite his love of books, seems to have learned little from the knowledge at his fingertips. He rules the roost like a patriarchal despot with a decidedly strict view of the role of women. In fact, it is through the women in his household that the reader is drawn into how truly circumscribed and stultifying life is for Afghani women, even after the Taliban is no longer in power. Khan rules his household as if it were a feudal fiefdom, with little thought, concern, or interest in the desires, hopes, and dreams of the members of his household.

The author's reporting on what life is like in post Taliban Afghanistan paints a fairly grim picture of a society fraught with ignorance and corruption. It is a society where women are merely chattel with little or no say in their future. Education is pretty much non-existent, and what passes for such is pathetic. Even that little, however, is routinely denied to the feminine gender. It was also particularly surprising, as well as ironic, that Sultan Khan, being a bookseller and purporting to love books, denied even his sons an education.

The author certainly has had an eye-opening experience by donning a burka and I, for one, am glad that she chose to share it. Despite its lack of any cogent critical analysis, this is certainly a provocative book and one that will provide much food for thought. Her birds-eye view of life in Afghanistan is truly a powerful statement and an indictment of a society so steeped in ignorance and poverty that it will take a miracle for it to enter into the twenty first century. Life in modern day Afghanistan is bleak, indeed. Those with an interest in other cultures will certainly enjoy this book.