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drushtii's review against another edition
3.0
3.5/5
Ok so the kite runner and a thousand splendid suns are two of my favourite books to date. So i had expected something similar from this book to completely wreck me, but that wasn't the case. This book took a different route. It was based on Afghanistan yes but it was more like short stories of multiple people connected in a way? My favourite of the book has to be Pari’s and Abdulla’s. The book started and ended with their story. It completely broke my heart. So yeah that was my favourite. The rest of the book didn't live up to my expectations.
Ok so the kite runner and a thousand splendid suns are two of my favourite books to date. So i had expected something similar from this book to completely wreck me, but that wasn't the case. This book took a different route. It was based on Afghanistan yes but it was more like short stories of multiple people connected in a way? My favourite of the book has to be Pari’s and Abdulla’s. The book started and ended with their story. It completely broke my heart. So yeah that was my favourite. The rest of the book didn't live up to my expectations.
dupha's review against another edition
emotional
informative
inspiring
reflective
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
mrskeypad's review against another edition
3.0
It was so well written, but different from his other books in that there were so many small stories contributing to the main themes of choices and relationships. The summary with the book is actually right on, so if that doesn't sound like your type of book, then you won't enjoy it.
jadynmcp's review against another edition
emotional
inspiring
sad
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
4.0
em1270's review against another edition
emotional
hopeful
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
4.0
katytatishvili's review against another edition
emotional
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
4.0
desibaker83's review against another edition
5.0
"L'on y danse tout en ronde."
What an excellent job Mr Hosseini did tying this book altogether. Indeed, it dances around itself weaving a fantastic web of a story about responsibility, repercussions, memory, loss, and secrets. I wish I had taken notes on this book now, as I really am struggling to articulate what I felt reading this book. And the subject is a little prickly on the forefront of my own mind right now, so I apologize for imminent rambling.
Hosseini uses symbolism like a genius throughout this text, but the bridges seem to me to impart the truth better than the story cycle/Sur le Pont d'Avignon, or the Pari/Paris/Fairy blown away by the wind symbolism. The description of Le Pont Saint-Bénezet here is striking: "Like it reached, tried to reunite with, the other side and fell short." (p. 401) Each of the many sub-stories given to us asks us this. Is it too late? Are the figurative bridges we build to others and our past doomed to fall short? Our intentions may be noble, but what are the consequences of our good intentions? There's regret in all its forms and our ultimate struggle and failure to fully right our wrongs and misgivings, but the soul's yearning for atonement and wholeness. If we can't go back, can we at least make use of what little we have now to find happiness? Is the sacrifice worth it?
In the story of Markos, for example, we see his failure to fully understand his mother and reconcile who he is and his perception of how she sees him. To see oneself through another lens, and to see how poorly it reconciles with our own vision of ourself. Our lives laid bare by our loved ones are perhaps not true failings to anyone but our own minds. Forever Markos feels as if his first crime in his reaction to Thalia's disfigurement is reason for his perpetual self punishment. He feels he was never the same to his mother after that, or to himself in some ways. The countdown to drop the shutter while he recalls what underneath feels to be more a reflection of himself running from the truth of his weaknesses and his feelings of not being good enough.
Some of us run, some us us hide behind masks, and some of us stay behind to suffer silently and accept what we've been given. We punish ourselves the most harshly sometimes for our actions. Atonement is painful, consuming, bitter, but ultimately freeing. Or is it? Is there a cosmic scale to weigh our choices and the reparations we make? Can we accept ourselves in our glorious imperfections-whether physical or personal?
Idris's story is perhaps one of the most pessimistic of the ones told, in many ways. In the end does he fail or does he succeed in saving himself and protecting his family? But at what cost? His fear hurts a small child and his ongoing poor caricature of Timur feels unfair by the end of his story. How easy it is to throw stones when you can not see your own self clearly. Perhaps I judged Idris a little unfairly in how easily he let go of Roshi's fate, but it is a more realistic ending for that story. Was she really his responsibility? How far can we take our sense of responsibility without it destroying us?
The story of Nabi and Mr. Wahdati is in some ways heartbreaking, and in others the most satisfying. How blind we are sometimes, not to see love in front of our eyes, even if it is not the love we hope for. Nabi found love in companionship, loyalty, and service. Is this not a more admirable love in many ways? He was never able to love Mr. Wahdati the way perhaps Suleiman would wish (but never ask for), but they served each other rightly to the end. Life is fickle that way, never turning out how we expect it to.
The first chapter in this book is perhaps the most important, and chock full of foreboding for what follows. The child sacrificed for the family to someone unfairly maligned. A happier story in some ways for the sacrificial child, and is it the responsible choice to lose one child to keep the others alive? In the story, Baba Ayub had his memory cleared of the event and all was rosy in the end whereas Saboor dies young and is broken by the experience. He does not get a happy ending or the relief of an unburdened conscience. The tale made a direct parallel with the memory loss towards the end of Abdullah's life to bring the story full circle. Baba Ayub found himself unable to sleep or hearing phantom noises, feeling a loss he could not understand but Abdullah's memory loss (Alzheimer's?) at the end of the book robbed him of his one true loss-and the return-of his sister. Perhaps it was too late for Abdullah, but it was not too late for his daughter and sister. A daughter who always felt a presence in spirit of a lost aunt/sister, and a sister who always felt the hole left by her father figure's loss (Abdullah stepping in as the only true father figure, one could argue). Saboor's attempt at a responsible choice echoes throughout the generations, hence the title.
Would it have been better for Baba Ayub to remember? In the tale, it seems it would be. But as we see later with Abdullah, it feels cruel and merciless. To never know that you got your heart's desire, that the one you loved was safe and whole in the end. Or perhaps it was better. The bitter disappointment of not being loved back or forgiven. Of not being accepted. That is always a risk. Is it always best to take that leap of faith that it will work out in the end? To wish against hope that you can fill that void inside of you?
Nila never was able to fill that hole with her attempt at motherhood. Her attempt at reconciliation, of making amends and being who she thought she should be ended in ultimate failure. Another person can not be made to fill our voids, to make us whole. And we can't run from who we are. Up to the end Nila passed on responsibility for her actions and her failings by blaming an abusive and distant father while not acknowledging the wake of pain behind she herself was responsible for.
In comparison with Hosseini's The Kite Runner, And the Mountains Echoed focuses on a broader range of characters all searching for themselves. You can not wait your whole life and leave things unsaid. But will it matter in the end? Hopefully the ones who truly love us will have already known. Perhaps Abdullah already knew inside of him that it was best for Pari to escape and so he did not need that fairy tale ending. Maybe in the end, he understood why Baba Ayub had to let go. Or perhaps they all would have gone on searching forever, lost and alone if they did not make the leap to tell their stories, or pick up the phone, or get on the plane. Can we forgive ourselves for not trying?
What an excellent job Mr Hosseini did tying this book altogether. Indeed, it dances around itself weaving a fantastic web of a story about responsibility, repercussions, memory, loss, and secrets. I wish I had taken notes on this book now, as I really am struggling to articulate what I felt reading this book. And the subject is a little prickly on the forefront of my own mind right now, so I apologize for imminent rambling.
Hosseini uses symbolism like a genius throughout this text, but the bridges seem to me to impart the truth better than the story cycle/Sur le Pont d'Avignon, or the Pari/Paris/Fairy blown away by the wind symbolism. The description of Le Pont Saint-Bénezet here is striking: "Like it reached, tried to reunite with, the other side and fell short." (p. 401) Each of the many sub-stories given to us asks us this. Is it too late? Are the figurative bridges we build to others and our past doomed to fall short? Our intentions may be noble, but what are the consequences of our good intentions? There's regret in all its forms and our ultimate struggle and failure to fully right our wrongs and misgivings, but the soul's yearning for atonement and wholeness. If we can't go back, can we at least make use of what little we have now to find happiness? Is the sacrifice worth it?
"I have waited all my life to hear those words. Is it too late now or this? For us? Have we squandered too much for too long, Mamá and I? Part of me thinks it is better to go on as we have, to act as though we don't know how ill suited we have been for each other. Less painful that way. Perhaps better than this belated offering. This fragile, trembling little glimpse of how it could have been between us. All it will beget is regret, I tell myself, and what good is regret? It brings back nothing. What we have lost is irretrievable." (page 344)
In the story of Markos, for example, we see his failure to fully understand his mother and reconcile who he is and his perception of how she sees him. To see oneself through another lens, and to see how poorly it reconciles with our own vision of ourself. Our lives laid bare by our loved ones are perhaps not true failings to anyone but our own minds. Forever Markos feels as if his first crime in his reaction to Thalia's disfigurement is reason for his perpetual self punishment. He feels he was never the same to his mother after that, or to himself in some ways. The countdown to drop the shutter while he recalls what underneath feels to be more a reflection of himself running from the truth of his weaknesses and his feelings of not being good enough.
Some of us run, some us us hide behind masks, and some of us stay behind to suffer silently and accept what we've been given. We punish ourselves the most harshly sometimes for our actions. Atonement is painful, consuming, bitter, but ultimately freeing. Or is it? Is there a cosmic scale to weigh our choices and the reparations we make? Can we accept ourselves in our glorious imperfections-whether physical or personal?
"A faint intimation that I have judged Madaline harshly, that we weren't even that different, she and I. Hadn't we both yearned for escape, reinvention, new identities? Hadn't we each, in the end, unmoored ourselves by cutting loose the anchors that weighed us down? I scoff at this, tell myself we are nothing alike, even as I sense that the anger I feel toward her may really be a mask for my envy over her succeeding at it all better than I had." (p. 328)
Idris's story is perhaps one of the most pessimistic of the ones told, in many ways. In the end does he fail or does he succeed in saving himself and protecting his family? But at what cost? His fear hurts a small child and his ongoing poor caricature of Timur feels unfair by the end of his story. How easy it is to throw stones when you can not see your own self clearly. Perhaps I judged Idris a little unfairly in how easily he let go of Roshi's fate, but it is a more realistic ending for that story. Was she really his responsibility? How far can we take our sense of responsibility without it destroying us?
The story of Nabi and Mr. Wahdati is in some ways heartbreaking, and in others the most satisfying. How blind we are sometimes, not to see love in front of our eyes, even if it is not the love we hope for. Nabi found love in companionship, loyalty, and service. Is this not a more admirable love in many ways? He was never able to love Mr. Wahdati the way perhaps Suleiman would wish (but never ask for), but they served each other rightly to the end. Life is fickle that way, never turning out how we expect it to.
The first chapter in this book is perhaps the most important, and chock full of foreboding for what follows. The child sacrificed for the family to someone unfairly maligned. A happier story in some ways for the sacrificial child, and is it the responsible choice to lose one child to keep the others alive? In the story, Baba Ayub had his memory cleared of the event and all was rosy in the end whereas Saboor dies young and is broken by the experience. He does not get a happy ending or the relief of an unburdened conscience. The tale made a direct parallel with the memory loss towards the end of Abdullah's life to bring the story full circle. Baba Ayub found himself unable to sleep or hearing phantom noises, feeling a loss he could not understand but Abdullah's memory loss (Alzheimer's?) at the end of the book robbed him of his one true loss-and the return-of his sister. Perhaps it was too late for Abdullah, but it was not too late for his daughter and sister. A daughter who always felt a presence in spirit of a lost aunt/sister, and a sister who always felt the hole left by her father figure's loss (Abdullah stepping in as the only true father figure, one could argue). Saboor's attempt at a responsible choice echoes throughout the generations, hence the title.
Would it have been better for Baba Ayub to remember? In the tale, it seems it would be. But as we see later with Abdullah, it feels cruel and merciless. To never know that you got your heart's desire, that the one you loved was safe and whole in the end. Or perhaps it was better. The bitter disappointment of not being loved back or forgiven. Of not being accepted. That is always a risk. Is it always best to take that leap of faith that it will work out in the end? To wish against hope that you can fill that void inside of you?
"All my life, she gave to me a shovel and said, Fill these holes inside of me, Pari."
Nila never was able to fill that hole with her attempt at motherhood. Her attempt at reconciliation, of making amends and being who she thought she should be ended in ultimate failure. Another person can not be made to fill our voids, to make us whole. And we can't run from who we are. Up to the end Nila passed on responsibility for her actions and her failings by blaming an abusive and distant father while not acknowledging the wake of pain behind she herself was responsible for.
In comparison with Hosseini's The Kite Runner, And the Mountains Echoed focuses on a broader range of characters all searching for themselves. You can not wait your whole life and leave things unsaid. But will it matter in the end? Hopefully the ones who truly love us will have already known. Perhaps Abdullah already knew inside of him that it was best for Pari to escape and so he did not need that fairy tale ending. Maybe in the end, he understood why Baba Ayub had to let go. Or perhaps they all would have gone on searching forever, lost and alone if they did not make the leap to tell their stories, or pick up the phone, or get on the plane. Can we forgive ourselves for not trying?
randeerebecca's review against another edition
emotional
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.0
salmonator's review against another edition
challenging
emotional
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
4.75