When I read The Kite Runner about five years ago, I thought the experience was like watching a beautifully described train wreck. I could clearly see where the engine was going to leave the tracks, and then I could not look away as car after car piled up after it. Slam! Crash! Boom! Tragedy after calamity after indignity. Before I knew it, my reader’s heart was crushed and burning in the rubble.
Apparently this is a pattern with Hosseini’s books, because here I am again.
I would say, though, that this train wreck was even more exquisitely agonizing than the last one. I’m glad Hosseini’s not very prolific. My soul can’t take this kind of stomping on a regular basis.