“For you, a thousand times over.”
Surely there is a great depth of pathos in those unaffected words, and in the mere raising of human love and hatred to such a power that their normal receptacles no longer contain them. Its after a long time, probably since The Strange Case of Billy Biswas, and Tuesdays with Morrie, that a book has managed to leave me crushed in the end; it’s the ‘survivor’s guilt’ perhaps. But, as the book puts it, zendagi migzara, life goes on.
Its amazing how the world goes gaga over one orange haired guy (read, Roark), worships him coz he is perfection well defined, but no matter what the world seems to hold view, Roark will perhaps smash and distort but he will seldom illumine, at least not me. Fine, I accept his philosophy, or rather Miss Rand’s, but it still remains an ordinary world of fiction and it never reaches back. Of course comparison between these two books is extremely far flung, and one that seems deliberate (maybe it is), moreover, this blogger would rather genuflect before Amir, than a Roark. Girls like Roark. Sorry! They lurve him! Thank the universe, he doesn’t exist outside the front and back covers of the book, and even if he did, I doubt how many of the girls, who lurve him (ahem), would notice him, and even if they did, it would be interesting to see, how many would continue to lurve him, post sessions of cold gazes, and the irony of being with a man who doesn’t even acknowledge your presence. If you still lurve him, you must be Jesus!!
There’s a thing called prophetic fiction, and many would attest that The Fountainhead is a perfect example of the said category, but then there’s also a term called ‘preaching’, can you alienate that from The Fountainhead? The Roarks, the Francons, or the Wynands hardly ask us to share anything deeper than their experiences, and there’s a more chance of you empathizing with Keating than Roark himself!! I’ve no clue what your definition of a great novel is, but for me, it has to be in a region where it could be joined by the rest of humanity, and therefore, Amir is- all of us; for all his imperfections, cowardice, errors, and sufferings. He conveyed to me a sensation that is partly physical- the sensation of sinking deep into water, and seeing my mistakes floating far above me on its surface, tiny, remote, yet mine. Maybe its my curious attitude of not accepting people who never make mistakes; I respect imperfection to a large extent!
My Verdict on The Kite Runner:: It asks for endurance or loyalty without hope of reward, and Amir in spite of all his internal looseness is too tight with a philosophy that leads to a reflections on life and things. There is something in words that is alien to its simplicity. Read it to explore life through the body.
Now Playing:: 18 till I die……………..Bryan Adams
