Laili Shahrestani, Editor-in-Chief
Back in 2022 — my senior year of high school — I remember sitting in my AP literature class, listening to my teacher explain how we were reading a 400-page novel about war, invasion, monarchy and so on. I imagined it to be something similar to what you would read in history class: extremely heavy and extremely informational. While that remained true, it ended up being so much more than that.
“The Kite Runner,” by Khaled Hosseini changed my life in ways I could have never imagined. For the first time, I was met with a book that was relatable to me, my family and the hardships my parents faced as immigrants from the Middle East. The novel does an excellent job of highlighting the resilience and endurance of us Farsi-speaking people, while also shedding light on the hardships that come along with carrying this identity.
At its core, “The Kite Runner,” follows Amir, a young Sunni Pashtun boy from Kabul, Afghanistan, who comes from a wealthy family, and his bond with Hassan, the son of his father’s servant, who belongs to the Shia Hazara minority group. Although the boys grew up in the same vicinity and share a deep bond, their relationship is shaped by the deep-rooted social, religious and economic divisions in Afghanistan during that time.
The novel revolves around the annual kite-flying tournament that is deeply significant to Amir, as he sees it as a chance to win his father’s approval. Hassan, being deeply loyal to Amir, runs the final kite, promising to retrieve it and bring it back to Amir “no matter what.” However, it is at this time that Hassan is cornered and violently assaulted by another Pashto named Assef, who openly expresses extremist beliefs and hatred towards the Hazara minority group. Hassan, being a part of this minority, is oftentimes subjected to discrimination and seen as “less-than” the other ethnic and religious groups. While Amir still respects Hassan deeply, despite their differences, he ultimately betrayed him. Amir stood by and watched his best friend get assaulted and did nothing to stop it — choosing silence over courage.
This moment of betrayal became a heavily significant turning point in the story, leaving Amir to never be the same. On the other hand, Hassan’s suffering was just one example of the many injustices minority groups, such as Shias or Hazaras are subjected to. While I am not a Hazara, my family comes from a Shia background, and I can relate to Hassan in the sense of feeling like an outcast or having been treated differently by extremist groups. Despite Amir’s silence, Hassan continued to show forgiveness and loyalty to Amir. This behavior sparked even more guilt in him, making Amir feel incredibly ashamed.
This shame ate Amir up more and more each day, leaving him no option but to push Hassan away as a coping mechanism. He ended up accusing Hassan of stealing, betraying him once again. However, this time, the betrayal stemmed from the fact that Amir could not look Hassan in the face anymore without feeling intense guilt — he wanted him gone. This just goes to show Amir’s sense of high-status and the power dynamic between the wealthy and the less fortunate in Afghanistan.
After Hassan and his father flee, Amir is left with a sense of relief that ends up being short-lived. Not long after, we see Afghanistan go through intense political change. The Soviet invasion causes Amir and his father to immigrate to America, leaving Hassan nothing but a guilty memory. While Amir starts his new life in the U.S., Afghanistan continues to suffer under the Taliban. The Taliban enforces its tyrannical and radicalized interpretations of religion on the community, leaving people suffering and under extreme oppression. Similarly, my parents once had to flee Iran after the Iranian Revolution, which shifted Iran from a monarchy to a theocratic dictatorship, now known as the Islamic Regime. The novel and my parents’ experiences show that these governments do not reflect the true values of Islam, but rather demonstrate examples of governments that use radicalized interpretations of religion as a means of control.
Years later, when Amir reaches adulthood, he receives a call informing him that Hassan has been killed by the Taliban, and that Hassan’s son Sohrab has been left orphaned. Amir, a man who has been living the better half of his life under extreme guilt, saw this as a way to make things right. Unlike his childhood self, who chose silence over courage, this time Amir traveled back to Afghanistan, fully aware of the risks, to confront his past. After long hours of traveling, Amir is met with Assef again, who now serves as a Taliban official. However, this time around , instead of running, he confronts him face-on and rescues Sohrab.
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By saving Hassan’s son, Amir felt as if he was one step closer to making things right. After the rescue, Amir receives a letter written by Hassan before his death. In this letter, Hassan expresses forgiveness and loyalty despite all the betrayals. While the letter does not fully erase Amir’s guilt, it clarifies that what he was doing was on the right track. Amir ends up taking Sohrab back to the U.S., where he raised Sohrab as his own. In the final part of the novel, there is a full-circle moment, ending with another kite-flying scene. This time, Amir is the one running the kite for Sohrab, reversing the roles from his childhood. He tells Sohrab that he will run the kite for him “a thousand times over,” representing what Hassan once said to Amir.
“The Kite Runner,” as great a story as it is, feels very personal, showcasing themes that are familiar to me. It is through the story of Amir and Hassan that gives me a better picture of life in the Middle East before invasion, after invasion, and how the economic and religious disparities played a role in that period of time. It is also through this novel that it highlights how guilt can’t ever be fully erased, but opens the door for growth moving forward.