The experience has left me with sorrow mixed with vexation and a little disappointment too. Sorrow, understandably, because of the misery that befalls the characters in the story. But it is at the other two emotional investments, which I am myself surprised at (surprised I say because the novel pummels the expectations, entirely justifiable, I had of it), a note is warranted.
A thousand…almost reads like a continuation of his previous work – The Kite Runner. The characters have changed but the plight, owing to the backdrop of a crumbling Afghanistan, seems to be a continuing narrative from his previous work. So what is lacking is a freshness that one would have expected after reading Khaled earlier. It did turn out to be a page turner, but not because I got sucked into the story but more so for a hope that the story would somewhere rise above the predictability it had surrendered to.
The story begins by sketching the childhood of two girls living at a time when Afghanistan’s decline had just begun. Vivid as it unfolds, the initial part of the story becomes a victim of this slow unraveling and threatens to reduce to a drag. As if the author himself realized this, the subsequent events of the story occur at a rapid pace. The author explores the brutality of those times in Afghanistan and the helplessness of those stuck in the crossfire of destiny and rocket shells of the mujahedeen. But it’s here where one would find the author slip off the path of reason. The muteness of Laila, one of the characters, is puzzling. She is shown to be an intelligent girl and gives ample examples of her reasoned approach towards life. But at times when one would expect her to rise to occasion, her deflating and frustrating response befuddles the reader. The author successfully manages to arrest the attention of the reader by delving deep into the pathos of the time; his juxtaposition of a hitherto progressive and peaceful Afghanistan with that of a now unrecognizable, broken, brutal entity that it had become is stark and hits you with the force it intended to begin with, but one can’t miss a deliberate attempt to prolong the misery of the characters in the story.
The story pales in comparison with The Kite Runner.
Both the stories are telling the troubled times of Afghanistan but The Kite Runner is refreshingly subtle. To be fair, the approach of the stories cannot be held as a reason for critique – one chooses subtleness over candor while the other chooses to pull the motif to forefront and is more direct. But it’s the déjà vu that disappoints as one starts to flip through the pages hoping each time something different to show up from the author.
This second novel makes Khaled look so formulaic. The narrative of both of his works follows the same cadence – a slow, descriptive start, which revisits the good old times and lays the foundation for the cruel contrast that is to come later, a rapid declension into the pit of sorrow, and a hopeful, reconciliatory resurface towards the end. But despite this predictable approach, the author walks away with credit for the eloquence in describing the sadness he builds about his characters. So persuasive is he that one waxes and wanes along with the characters.
A thousand…suffers under the weight of a very successful work coming previously from the same author. Also, there is an attendant predicament here, which is that if one was to read A thousand… first and then pick The Kite Runner, one might run the risk of under appreciating a fine work like The Kite Runner. The criticism offered could be same as presented above - that of repetitiveness. Though one does appreciate A thousand… for painting a picture of the utter loss that humanity has suffered in Afghanistan, as a work of literature it would not find a place alongside The Kite Runner.
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