What is the novel about? Government authority, religious tolerance, family tradition, individual freedom, social values, economic conditions, the justice system, and environmental concerns. Variables and constants of life for practically any group of people, anywhere in the world.
Where does the novel take place? In a modern, war-torn, impoverished nation of simple, independent-minded, family oriented, devoutly religious tradesmen, craftsmen, shopkeepers, and farmers. Specifically, Afghanistan.
What's the big deal? Communists took over the country in 1978. The Russian military invaded. The leaders of the constitutional monarchy fled. Life went on much as before. The military left, about a decade later. Religious extremist factions rose to prominence and proceeded to divide the country. Some religious fanatics gained strength and began to consolidate their influence. The strictly intolerant, fundamentalist Taliban took over the country, having fought and defeated the others. After the attack on the NYC World Trade Center by Muslim terrorists in 2001, the U.S. military arrived in Afghanistan to combat terrorism. They've stayed over 18 years, and counting. They've been fighting the Taliban ever since.
Current status? Not much has changed in the country. The poor people continue to suffer. The quality of life has not improved in the least. There is a total lack of and disregard for civil rights, legal representation, economic development, opportunity for advancement, and fair, impartial justice for all. Ordinary people look on apprehensively as bullets, rockets, and self-destructive bombers dispense justice.
Complications? Poppy cultivation and narcotics production may be a contributing factor to social unrest in the country and in destabilizing the surrounding region, since Afghanistan is reputed to be a major supplier of heroin to much of the rest of the world. Hitherto unknown individuals, even anonymous groups of rugged-looking, bearded mountain men, may have become exceedingly wealthy and powerful distributing this type of commodity, obtaining weaponry to protect the trade and sowing discord in the process.
Recommendations? Somebody ought to do something about raising the collective consciousness of the people, even if he only flies kites for health-care awareness, or runs marathons for red-cross disaster relief. There's a lot to be said for a good education, as well, in a nation of illiterates, who can't think for themselves. Other than that, in my opinion, only a continued military presence has any chance of stabilizing the region.
Odd to think so, but this book review on The Kite Runner, by Khaled Hosseini, published in 2003, could have made a great beginning for a classified CIA report on any number of militant third-world countries they'd better keep a close eye on, in the interest of national security and improving diplomatic relations.
On a personal note, the average reader can tell at first glance that the narrator of the story loves his family dearly and has developed life-long, respectful friendships from the time of his early childhood. He's made mistakes, certainly, but he has learned from them. He's grown. He knows right from wrong. He has found his rightful place in the community. He has finally acquired a sense of spirituality. What more should you expect? Forgiveness? A trip to Mecca?
R. Royce thought about attending a high school football game north of Fort Worth at one of the large magnet schools situated there. A big event, locally speaking. In late August or early September it can be very hot outside, dry or steamy-humid, depending on changing weather conditions, even during the evening of the game. But, he would endure these extremes without complaint, patiently waiting for a cool breeze. It was part of life. One of the things that most impressed him was the energy and enthusiasm displayed by all of the youthful, active participants and spectators in attendance. He'd casually walk over to get a soda at the concession stand and there would be throngs of kids and parents milling about in long lines and in the foyer, chattering happily, cheerfully, excited to be part of the pageantry that has become a proud, Texas tradition.
He carried the container of icy-cold drink beverage over to the stands in the stadium-- one which rivals stadiums at the college level in many communities in the states to the north, and took a long look all around him at the players on the field, the marching band, the cheerleaders, the fans in the stands. It was an impressive sight to behold, a glorious event that brought all kinds of people together, from all walks of life. It was a care-free time for relaxation, fun, and frolicking. Music was in the air. Laughter mingled with the sounds of brass instruments and drums. Students and friends and neighbors who hadn't seen one another for the entire summer, since school had been let out, met one another as for the very first time in their lives. It all felt new and different, somehow. Fresh and alive. Splendid and joyful. A carnival of sights and sounds. Popcorn. Syrupy soft drinks. Cotton candy.
The best part of all: none of them yet knew his permanent place in society. No one told them this is where you are supposed to sit. This is what you are supposed to do. Nobody told them they had to sit down and be quiet. They were completely free to enjoy themselves, the festivities, and the sporting activities which presented themselves as they presented themselves. It was a good feeling to enjoy complete freedom, even if they didn't realize that's what it was, and a sense of security. They felt confident, bold, gleeful, and beautifully inspired. They would have a bright future before them with incredible challenges and vastly diverse opportunities. This, indeed, was something worth celebrating.
Of course, by later on in the season, most of them would have found their seats, gone to them, and learned more about the type of acceptable behavior which was expected of them. For now, they all had infinite dignity and infinite possibilities. It was another matter entirely for season-ticket holders.
They were the pillars of the community. The founding fathers of the city. The matriarchs of the establishment. People looked up to them, for the most part, and respected them. They mirrored society. If the students represented the future, they represented the present and the past. They were historically significant.
His good friend, Cornelius Korn was on the telephone. "Care to fly to Iceland for the week-end?" he inquired. "I found a pilot and guide who's located a rocky outcrop, at the leading edge of a melting glacier, where we can find all the rubies we can possibly carry."
"All we have to do is go and dig them out," said Royce, jubilantly. He'd instantly deduced the truth of the matter.
"I think, I'd rather stay at home instead, and skip this trip," said Raquel.
"What ever shall we do without you boys?" inquired Alexis Sue.
"Pull weeds in the flower garden?" suggested Korn.
"Re-paint the living room?" Royce offered up. Life goes on.
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When I received the package I got two books the first one came in perfect condition but this one had a small rip on its cover. The rest is fine.
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