There are books that make you feel that you’re not good enough to exist within their literary presence.

Yet here we are.

The Kite Runner is one of those literary marvels that make you wholly believe in humanity again while at the same time, shock you to your core, by what evils our very race can inflict.

First of all, let me just put out how emotionally wrenching this book was. It guts your chest, grips your heart with merciless claws, and just when you think it might relinquish its hold and give satisfying closure, it rips your heart out.

There are simply no words in my humane caliber to describe the unprecedented level in which this book emotionally gut-wrenches the reader.

With that said, I felt like one of the most important takeaways from this absolute literary masterpiece is the impact of the Taliban regime.

Khalid Hosseini has said that he considers The Kite Runner to be a father-son relationship story.

As in the tyrannical rule of any religious or ideologically extremist group, it is always a humanitarian crisis. And the stories of the people that come out of such crises remain timeless. Because to acknowledge a bad time in one’s history, and sadly present, such as the Taliban regime, is a deeply sensitive territory no matter how it is approached. The depiction of the unutterable atrocities and the harrowing tragedies is agitating a wound cut far deep in the affectees, and also alarming the people in faraway lands of the vile timeline of these sickening acts.

What I felt was such a big takeaway from this literature was the deep and unalterable impact that a brutal regime has on a people. The very identity and way of existence of a people.

(And when I refer to a brutal reign, I am considering any ideological, religious, or politically motivated extremist group that exercises unjust power over a people. In the past, say the Nazi Regime, or Stalin’s Purge. And sadly in the present, Putin’s regime, the North Korean regime, the Taliban regime, and Israel’s Apartheid.)

For example, the scene when Amir goes back to Afghanistan as an adult, and he is staying at his driver Farid’s brother Waheed’s house. The family is poor, and Wahid’s wife barely scrapes together a pleasing meal. As Amir eats, he sees the kids staring at him. He assumes they are fascinated by his watch. As an attempt of generosity, he gives them the watch, but the children lose interest in it quickly. Only later did Amir realize they weren’t interested in his watch but were ogling the food. They were hungry and quietly longing for it.

This is not a big climactic scene. This is not Hassan and his wife being dragged out into the street and shot at (however horribly and irreparably traumatizing that was). It was not like Amir heroically battling Assef and young Sohrab helping him win.

No. This scene had none of the adrenaline, none of the stakes, and yet it was as gut-wrenching as any tragic fiction piece. Why is that?

I think it was because of the amazing job Khalid Hosseini did in establishing what such an atrocious regime does to a people. In a relatively narrow story structure, his world-building is exponential. His use of a short but efficient list of characters feels impeccably crafted. We are not thrusted upon with a buttload of characters, but just the recognizable bunch. And each one is so deep. Each one explores a completely different aspect of how they got affected.

Rahim Khan, an intellectual, a loyal man, neglected and made frail by time and well… neglect.

Baba, a businessman, a-could-be-a-national-treasure, made to flee and battle his past demons.

Ali, a downright kind and loyal human being. The sort of kindness that’s too good.

Hassan, a friend for whom you really could say, “For you, a thousand times over.”

Amir, our protagonist, he is privleged, he has guilt, he has self-loathe, he yearns redemption, all in an insufferable, unyielding time.

Soraya, Amir’s loving and supportive wife, who helps him rebuild himself no matter in which trench he finds himself in.

Sanauber, a beautiful woman, who though did wrong earlier in life, returned and gave all the love she could. I just really loved her redemption arc.

There are others, but I feel like a quick shout-out need be given to the master-servant dynamic. Because it still exists in southern Asian regions. And to be honest, as a Gen Z, I will tell you that it is very weird. (…..) Like two people, two human beings, born side by side, are going to live polar opposite lives. One will benefit from filthy privilege, and the other will live hand to mouth. And the only thing that determines which side you get, is only the inevitability of which womb you come out of. It is no one’s fault, and yet it is everyone’s fault. It is an utterly infuriating system, and yet it will take generations to change.

Amir was able to read and consequently discover his gift for writing only because he was given the privilege of education. Hassan was not granted that. Amir was able to take refuge with Baba in the USA because they were able to afford that. Hassan couldn’t. His atrocious circumstances made his loyalty an insufferable consequence.

I am not devaluing Hassan’s loyalty. Believe me, a privileged person as myself could not have the guts for that. I’m saying that Hassan was not financially able to escape Afghanistan. He lived and protected Amir and Baba’s residence as a form of loyalty but also as a form of circumstantial consequence. His lack of privilege burdened him with the sense of loyalty and ultimate sacrifice.

Finally, I want to say that the press and the promos have really highlighted this novel with the catchphrase,

But this is a signifier of friendship, of Amir and Hassan’s friendship, and later Amir and Sohrab’s relationship.

But for me the most significant phrase in the book was not about the relationship between the two central friends, but it was about the relationship between the father and son. After all, Khalid Hosseini has said that he considers The Kite Runner to be a father-son relationship story

Amir yearns his father’s approval, throughout his life. For me, it was most impactful, when Amir, as a young boy, was discovering his love and his gift for writing. And Rahim Khan, his beloved and supportive uncle, had given him a diary to write his Short Stories in. So when Amir had written his first Short Story in the diary, he had wanted to share it with Baba, and gain his praise. But deep down he knew that Baba wasn’t very keen about his writing and would not encourage him or be proud of him. And at this time, holding his first written piece in his hands he thought,

That line, hit me very hard, and it still caries that impact for me today. It embodies just how much Amir wanted his father’s praise and approval. And it embodies the innocent wish of a child to want his parents to be proud of something that he is proud of having done himself.

That, for me, encapsulates our protagonist Amir very well. And that is the phrase that I remember the book by, even today.

So if you want your soul wrenched and learn something about dictatorship regimes, it is a recommended read indeed.

Thanks for your reading time.

I wish upon you democratic governments and free will to exist and to read whatever you want.