A Cowardly Reader
I have had "The Kite Runner" by Khaled Hosseini on my "to-read" list for quite some time. It was on the NYT Bestseller list, a number of people have recommended it to me, and it's one of those books that has that certain "buzz" around it, that sense that everyone is reading this book, and you will be missing out on something if you don't read it too.
I put it on hold, brought it home, and returned it twice without reading it. Both times my excuse was that I was too busy, I had a paper to write or a project to finish, but mostly it was just that I'm a cowardly reader. It looks like an emotionally tough read, and I'm not looking forward to it. The cover blurbs promise "a moving portrait of modern Afghanistan" and "...all the great themes of literature and life...love, honor, guilt, fear, redemption," but every page I have read is full of foreboding. If it were a movie, the soundtrack would play that deep dark music that makes the audience yell out to the heroine "Don't turn the page! Don't turn the page!"
One person who recommended it to me said it gave her an in-depth picture of the background of the conflict in Afghanistan that she felt was important, despite the fact that it is a work of fiction. I have spent most of my reading life avoiding books that have to do with unpleasant things I don't want to deal with or think about. If the book had war, child abuse, murder, rape or any other form of violence as its central theme, I skipped it and moved on to the next book. Then I read The Lovely Bones last summer, (or was it the summer before?) rushing through the horrible beginning scenes that set the stage for the grace and delicacy of the rest of the book.
I have "The Kite Runner" in my hands again, and the semester is over, so I have no more excuses. There are plenty of other books waiting their turn, I could just keep moving it to the bottom of the pile. But I'm reading it nonetheless, because I feel like I ought to. But I don't expect it will be one of those books that tempt me to stay up all night reading.

2 Comments:
This post was timely for me; I'm in the middle of Autobiography of a Face by Lucy Grealy, and its painful enough (though beautifully written) that I keep putting it down. Sometimes it's easier to be cowardly than it be immersed in so much pain.
I read a blurb on Autobiograpy of a Face, that does look painful. Why do we read these painful books? Is it because of the "There, but for the grace of God, go I" factor?
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