The hype preceded the book and I was, as usual, slightly resistant in taking it up. The Western talk about the book showcasing the ethnic culture and all that added to the resistance. But well, the book caught me unawares.

I liked the very touching moments it had for me. But overall my response is mixed.

What I liked most. The completely unheroic portrayal of hero, who cannot stand for himself. He is cowardly, he is tormented. He is one like us. He betrays his friendship for personal gains and he loses sleep for good after that. Still he cannot stand for himself, for anything. “A boy who cannot stand for himself, becomes a man who cannot stand for anything.” A petty, common blemish most of us have in our own personal lives. But this time, this cowardice happens to be trapped in a milieu of such magnanimous saga and drama, personal as well as national, that it springs moments of epic tragedy.

National crises, as in many novels like Tin Drum, interlace with personal lives. Torn between Russia and America in the cold war, and finally the American occupation post 9/11, Afghanistan has a very haunted history and present. Amir, the rich Pashtun protagonist of Kite Runner feels deprived of his privileges and escapes to foreign land where he manages to live fearless. Fearless, but not guiltless. For him the escape is more from his personal remorse in hurting Hassan, not Russian invasion. He returns to redress the remorse, when Taliban, supported by America has taken control of the land. And the talib he has to fight is the one who he ran away from, throwing Hassan to his hands. This unrealistic coincidence could have been avoided in the novel.

Somewhere the novel becomes too male! It is a work on men and male bonding. Indeed, no problem. But lineage, family honour and national crisis – all discussed from how men view them.

I’m also vary about the (a)political stands the writer chooses to lean towards. The nostalgia about the past glory of Amir and Baba is nothing but the reminiscence of the rich and the dominant. Hassan, lives in that ‘glorious’ past, never treated as equal, always humiliated and taunted. Those fissures, before either Russia or America showed vested interest do not seem to bother the storyline.

The serendipitous narrative has so many surprises in its fold, as well as varied moments of emotional ruptures. But towards the end, the book loses its gripping passion and sometimes I felt it too sentimental, especially the talk of honour, pride and such traditional excuses to explain human follies. Tragedy should also be taken in moderate amounts. I feel there is an extra tea spoon of sentiments.

But still, I would happily read his other novels.