"But in the quiet moments, in those long rides in the back of a bus or the bed of a truck, my mind always circles back to Manaar. Thinking of him, of the anguish of his final days, and my own helplessness in the face of it, makes everything I have done, everything I want to do, seem as unsubstantial as the little vows you make to yourself as you're going to sleep, the ones you've already forgotten by the time you wake up." -Khaled Hosseini, pp. 330, And the Mountains Echoed.
Hosseni's latest, to me, is about the rocky path of good intentions, unmet promises and dreams that, in reality, are harder to find. I loved the book. The reviews I read about it right after I finished included a lot of "I kept comparing it to his past two books" and "because of his first two books, I expected more." For the record, I don't think any one author's book should be compared to one of their others. I do this sometimes (most recently with Matthew Quick) but Hosseini taught me a lesson with this story.
The novel is built by several smaller vignettes, all focused on characters that are related to and impacted by a decision made in the 1950s in Afghanistan by a poor laborer. I was immediately interested in the laborer and his children. As the novel continued, I was somewhat confused and frustrated that the story didn't return to them often and instead included tales of people once, twice, three-times removed from the children. When I was finishing, however, I realized how tied each character was to the children in a complicated web of their father's decision and its results. I was once again amazed by Hosseini's ability to emotionally invest me in characters and a story over a long timeline and to teach so much among his pages.
The first lesson is that decisions can have long-lasting, unintended consequences - for better or for worse - on multiple people, whether they are, or were, directly involved.
The second lesson is that sometimes decisions are made in the hopes for a better outcome for one or more people involved. The thing about good intentions, as Hosseini explores, is that an assumption is made - an assumption that the result is one-dimensional and locked in place based on a certain decision. Path dependency is not that easy. Regardless of the intention, multiple perspectives inform the result and additional elements of the story unfold - meaning that the assumed "more perfect" outcome may still have its negativity.
The third lesson, of unmet promises, is about the things characters would say they would do, or hoped someone would do, that were never fulfilled. There is also the added fold of the inherent promises made by familial ties that are or are not honored - a mother's loyalty to her children (or lack thereof), a father's desire to provide a better life for his family (which may involve some shady dealings), siblings' connections to each other and the inability to stay together in times of hardship and despair. I feel like there is a character in this book that everyone can relate to; one person who has a similar philosophy about the influence of promises.
I related most to Markos, whose character shared the statement at the beginning of this post. Markos inherited the story of the poor laborer's family without trying, but tried diligently to connect the pieces and the people from the story. Meanwhile, he had a family of his own - a mother and friend, who was like a sister - thousands of miles away. His immediate reaction when given the opportunity to leave home was to leave. He traveled the world and made a life for himself outside of his hometown. He landed in Kabul and unexpectedly stayed there for nearly a decade, doing work that felt meaningful and purposeful and somehow more connected to his humanity than his family. And yet. And yet. The work still doesn't fulfill him completely and reminders exist in his history - the people who represent why he does his work who he left behind; his family still being disconnected from him as an adult. Although he fulfilled some of the promises he made to himself, he failed on others.
But others would probably relate to either Pari, who's connection and loyalty to family - although differently motivated - caused them to dislodge relationships, leave unfulfilled promises of education and professionalism. Sometimes, their focus too distracted them from their deeper heart's desire to explore and find meaning in the way Markos did - all around the world. And yet. And yet. They could still take stock in the moments they shared with loved ones.
The lesson of unmet promises also begs the question, can one have it all? Or do you have to, by virtue of the way the world operates, leave some promises unfulfilled in order to meet the tenants of another?
The last lesson is somewhat related - the promises we make to ourselves in our dreams - how easy are they to fulfill? And, will they be fulfilled in the way we expect them to, or are they met in smaller ways that, added up, should be just as meaningful? This is far more abstract to explain, but I do think of the dreams I have built for myself over the years that are hard to describe. And yet. And yet. When I saw "Cabaret" in New York, Alan Cumming live on stage and then less than a foot away from me outside of the theater, my heart soared. Something that I had not quite defined became real for me in those moments and I am still beaming with joy each time I see a photo, remember a song, or think of that night.
But there are several more examples of moments I had been dreaming of that didn't work out.
Hosseini's story is about both of those moments - fulfilled and unfilled dreams - realities that incur on the vows we make ourselves at bedtime, in our dreams, and in our reflections. Some of those dreams will never become a reality because of their impossibility, or improbability; some may, but they'll be realized in a way that is perhaps different than what one previously assumed. Or, they may be completely realized - but at what cost? And even more, what changes about ourselves, our acceptance of our identities, and about our choices, after the fact?
It was an incredible novel and I am grateful to have read it. Hosseini needs to keep writing. His stories are the reason why we tell stories - to feel and to learn.
~MJ
"He woke from these dreams with a howl locked in his chest. Bouts of weeping sideswiped him at random moments.
And yet.
And yet.
Something else was happening as well. The new awareness had not fade from his mind, but slowly it had found company. Another, opposing current of consciousness coursed through him now, one that did not displace the first but claimed space beside it..." -pp. 287
