THE KITE RUNNER: Themes with Quotes
CodeyCartledge
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Feb 13, 2019
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About This Presentation
Themes throughout the whole book. With relevant quotations and annotation with analysis's.
Any further questions please ask.
Thank you.
Slide Content
CODEY CARTLEDGE: ENGLISH: THE KITE RUNNER: TRUDI:
THE KITE RUNNER:
THEMES, QUESTIONS
& QUOTES.
THE KITE RUNNER:
THEMES, QUESTIONS
& QUOTES.
CODEY CARTLEDGE: ENGLISH: THE KITE RUNNER: TRUDI:
FRIENDSHIPS:
There are two major relationships in The Kite Runner. One is between the protagonist and his father.
The other is between the protagonist and his best friend. Because the protagonist's best friend is
also his servant, though, and a member of the discriminated against ethnic minority, the novel
presents a relationship that is fairly complex. Should love for a friend outweigh the divisions of class
and ethnicity? Or are these divisions too far-reaching? To make matters more complicated, the
protagonist later learns his best friend is actually his half-brother. In some ways, this revelation
dissolves the earlier problems posed by ethnicity, and Hosseini poses a new question: Can ethnicity
divide the members of a family?
Questions About Friendship:
1.At the beginning of Chapter 4, Amir says: "But in none of his stories did Baba ever refer to Ali as his
friend." Why do you think Baba refuses to refer to Ali as his friend? Is it the divide between servant
and master? Does Baba consider Ali inferior because Ali is a Hazara? Does Baba feel guilty about
sleeping with Sanaubar and thus unworthy of Ali's friendship?
2.There's another group of friends in The Kite Runner whom you might pass over at first: Assef, Wali,
and Kamal. Describe this group of friends. How do they compare to Amir and Hassan? Are there any
similarities between Assef's clique and Amir and Hassan?
3Early on, Baba seems like a distant myth instead of a father. Certainly, he and Amir aren't friends
while Amir is growing up. Their relationship changes significantly, however, once the pair settle in
Fremont, California. Does Amir eventually become friends with Baba?
4.Much of the novel is concerned with masculinity (e.g. what does it mean to be an Afghan man).
Almost all of the friendships in the novel are male. How do ideas about masculinity inform the
friendships in the novel?
QUOTES:
“Sometimes, up in those trees, I talked Hassan into firing walnuts with his slingshot at the
neighbour’s one-eyed German shepherd. Hassan never wanted to, but if I asked, really asked, he
wouldn't deny me. Hassan never denied me anything. And he was deadly with his slingshot. Hassan's
father, Ali, used to catch us and get mad, or as mad as someone as gentle as Ali could ever get. He
would wag his finger and wave us down from the tree. He would take the mirror and tell us what his
mother had told him, that the devil shone mirrors too, shone them to distract Muslims during prayer.
"And he laughs while he does it," he always added, scowling at his son.
"Yes, Father," Hassan would mumble, looking down at his feet. But he never told on me. Never told
that the mirror, like shooting walnuts at the neighbour’s dog, was always my idea. (2.2-3)”
This passage shows up early in the novel and really tells us quite a bit about Amir and Hassan's
friendship. Hassan protects and defends Amir and, foreshadowing later events in the novel, refuses
to tell on Amir. (Hassan will later take the blame for the wad of cash and the watch.) We should also
note that Amir seems like the gang leader in this passage, getting the two boys into trouble. Does
Amir control the relationship? Is this why Hassan often takes the blame for things? Does Amir ever
take responsibility for anything in the novel? (CHAPTER 2)
FRIENDSHIPS:
There are two major relationships in The Kite Runner. One is between the protagonist and his father.
The other is between the protagonist and his best friend. Because the protagonist's best friend is
also his servant, though, and a member of the discriminated against ethnic minority, the novel
presents a relationship that is fairly complex. Should love for a friend outweigh the divisions of class
and ethnicity? Or are these divisions too far-reaching? To make matters more complicated, the
protagonist later learns his best friend is actually his half-brother. In some ways, this revelation
dissolves the earlier problems posed by ethnicity, and Hosseini poses a new question: Can ethnicity
divide the members of a family?
Questions About Friendship:
1.At the beginning of Chapter 4, Amir says: "But in none of his stories did Baba ever refer to Ali as his
friend." Why do you think Baba refuses to refer to Ali as his friend? Is it the divide between servant
and master? Does Baba consider Ali inferior because Ali is a Hazara? Does Baba feel guilty about
sleeping with Sanaubar and thus unworthy of Ali's friendship?
2.There's another group of friends in The Kite Runner whom you might pass over at first: Assef, Wali,
and Kamal. Describe this group of friends. How do they compare to Amir and Hassan? Are there any
similarities between Assef's clique and Amir and Hassan?
3Early on, Baba seems like a distant myth instead of a father. Certainly, he and Amir aren't friends
while Amir is growing up. Their relationship changes significantly, however, once the pair settle in
Fremont, California. Does Amir eventually become friends with Baba?
4.Much of the novel is concerned with masculinity (e.g. what does it mean to be an Afghan man).
Almost all of the friendships in the novel are male. How do ideas about masculinity inform the
friendships in the novel?
QUOTES:
“Sometimes, up in those trees, I talked Hassan into firing walnuts with his slingshot at the
neighbour’s one-eyed German shepherd. Hassan never wanted to, but if I asked, really asked, he
wouldn't deny me. Hassan never denied me anything. And he was deadly with his slingshot. Hassan's
father, Ali, used to catch us and get mad, or as mad as someone as gentle as Ali could ever get. He
would wag his finger and wave us down from the tree. He would take the mirror and tell us what his
mother had told him, that the devil shone mirrors too, shone them to distract Muslims during prayer.
"And he laughs while he does it," he always added, scowling at his son.
"Yes, Father," Hassan would mumble, looking down at his feet. But he never told on me. Never told
that the mirror, like shooting walnuts at the neighbour’s dog, was always my idea. (2.2-3)”
This passage shows up early in the novel and really tells us quite a bit about Amir and Hassan's
friendship. Hassan protects and defends Amir and, foreshadowing later events in the novel, refuses
to tell on Amir. (Hassan will later take the blame for the wad of cash and the watch.) We should also
note that Amir seems like the gang leader in this passage, getting the two boys into trouble. Does
Amir control the relationship? Is this why Hassan often takes the blame for things? Does Amir ever
take responsibility for anything in the novel? (CHAPTER 2)
CODEY CARTLEDGE: ENGLISH: THE KITE RUNNER: TRUDI:
“Then he [Ali] would remind us that there was a brotherhood between people who had fed from the
same breast, a kinship that not even time could break. Hassan and I fed from the same breasts. We
took our first steps on the same lawn in the same yard. And, under the same roof, we spoke our first
words. Mine was Baba. His was Amir. My name. (2.34-37)”
There's a primal closeness between Amir and Hassan. Later, we'll find out the two boys have the
same father, but notice how Hosseini is laying the groundwork for that revelation. The two boys
might as well be brothers: they learn to walk together, they learn to speak together, and they feed
from the same breast. Which brings up an interesting question: What does Rahim Khan's revelation
– that Amir and Hassan are half-brothers – really change? Aren't the two already brothers in
everything? Or does "blood" fundamentally change Amir's relationship with Hassan? (CHAPTER 2)
“Ali and Baba grew up together as childhood playmates – at least until polio crippled Ali's leg – just
like Hassan and I grew up a generation later. Baba was always telling us about the mischief he and
Ali used to cause, and Ali would shake his head and say, "But, Agha sahib, tell them who was the
architect of the mischief and who the poor labourer?" Baba would laugh and throw his arm around
Ali. But in none of his stories did Baba ever refer to Ali as his friend. (4.2-3)”
Baba and Ali's friendship parallels Amir and Hassan's on a number of levels. First, as this passage
indicates, there's a similar pattern of leadership (and power): both Baba and Amir have dominant
roles in each friendship. And, lest you forget, Baba betrays Ali much like Amir betrays Hassan. As
they say, two peas in a pod. Or, maybe it would be four peas in a pod. We're not sure. Anyways,
after Amir learns that Baba lied to him for years, he says: "Baba and I were more alike than I'd ever
known. We had both betrayed the people who would have given their lives for us" (18.7). Four peas
in a pod. (CHAPTER 4)
“But we were kids who had learned to crawl together, and no history, ethnicity, society, or religion
was going to change that either. I spent most of the first twelve years of my life playing with Hassan.
Sometimes, my entire childhood seems like one long lazy summer day with Hassan, chasing each
other between tangles of trees in my father's yard, playing hide-and-seek, cops and robbers, cowboys
and Indians, insect torture – with our crowning achievement undeniably the time we plucked the
stinger off a bee and tied a string around the poor thing to yank it back every time it took flight.
(4.6)”
Amir lays out the opposing argument just prior to this paragraph. In it, he says ethnicity will always
define a relationship. We believe Hosseini really wants us to grapple with Amir's contradictory
stances: Does Amir's friendship with Hassan ever get past history, ethnicity, society, and religion?
Later, Amir will justify his cowardice in the alleyway by asking himself if he really has to defend
Hassan (since Hassan is a Hazara). Does Amir ever get past his prejudices? We're really not sure
about this one. Hosseini devotes the entire novel to this question. (CHAPTER 4)
“Then he [Ali] would remind us that there was a brotherhood between people who had fed from the
same breast, a kinship that not even time could break. Hassan and I fed from the same breasts. We
took our first steps on the same lawn in the same yard. And, under the same roof, we spoke our first
words. Mine was Baba. His was Amir. My name. (2.34-37)”
There's a primal closeness between Amir and Hassan. Later, we'll find out the two boys have the
same father, but notice how Hosseini is laying the groundwork for that revelation. The two boys
might as well be brothers: they learn to walk together, they learn to speak together, and they feed
from the same breast. Which brings up an interesting question: What does Rahim Khan's revelation
– that Amir and Hassan are half-brothers – really change? Aren't the two already brothers in
everything? Or does "blood" fundamentally change Amir's relationship with Hassan? (CHAPTER 2)
“Ali and Baba grew up together as childhood playmates – at least until polio crippled Ali's leg – just
like Hassan and I grew up a generation later. Baba was always telling us about the mischief he and
Ali used to cause, and Ali would shake his head and say, "But, Agha sahib, tell them who was the
architect of the mischief and who the poor labourer?" Baba would laugh and throw his arm around
Ali. But in none of his stories did Baba ever refer to Ali as his friend. (4.2-3)”
Baba and Ali's friendship parallels Amir and Hassan's on a number of levels. First, as this passage
indicates, there's a similar pattern of leadership (and power): both Baba and Amir have dominant
roles in each friendship. And, lest you forget, Baba betrays Ali much like Amir betrays Hassan. As
they say, two peas in a pod. Or, maybe it would be four peas in a pod. We're not sure. Anyways,
after Amir learns that Baba lied to him for years, he says: "Baba and I were more alike than I'd ever
known. We had both betrayed the people who would have given their lives for us" (18.7). Four peas
in a pod. (CHAPTER 4)
“But we were kids who had learned to crawl together, and no history, ethnicity, society, or religion
was going to change that either. I spent most of the first twelve years of my life playing with Hassan.
Sometimes, my entire childhood seems like one long lazy summer day with Hassan, chasing each
other between tangles of trees in my father's yard, playing hide-and-seek, cops and robbers, cowboys
and Indians, insect torture – with our crowning achievement undeniably the time we plucked the
stinger off a bee and tied a string around the poor thing to yank it back every time it took flight.
(4.6)”
Amir lays out the opposing argument just prior to this paragraph. In it, he says ethnicity will always
define a relationship. We believe Hosseini really wants us to grapple with Amir's contradictory
stances: Does Amir's friendship with Hassan ever get past history, ethnicity, society, and religion?
Later, Amir will justify his cowardice in the alleyway by asking himself if he really has to defend
Hassan (since Hassan is a Hazara). Does Amir ever get past his prejudices? We're really not sure
about this one. Hosseini devotes the entire novel to this question. (CHAPTER 4)
CODEY CARTLEDGE: ENGLISH: THE KITE RUNNER: TRUDI:
“I know," he said, breaking our embrace. "Inshallah, we'll celebrate later. Right now, I'm going to run
that blue kite for you," he said. He dropped the spool and took off running, the hem of his green
chapan dragging in the snow behind him. "Hassan!" I called. "Come back with it!" He was already
turning the street corner, his rubber boots kicking up snow. He stopped, turned. He cupped his hands
around his mouth. "For you a thousand times over!" he said. Then he smiled his Hassan smile and
disappeared around the corner. The next time I saw him smile unabashedly like that was twenty-six
years later, in a faded Polaroid photograph. (7.52-54)”
Yet again, Hassan demonstrates his loyalty and devotion to Amir. If we were to judge Amir and
Hassan's friendship by actions and not simply expressions of loyalty, the score would be pretty
lopsided. (Of course, Amir saves Hassan's son at the end of the book from a pathological paedophile
so that counts for something.) We also want to point out the irony in Hassan's reply: "For you a
thousand times over!" Amir will develop a pretty nasty case of insomnia as the guilt piles up inside
him. Really, Amir returns to the alleyway thousands of times in his memory before he comes to
peace with his cowardice. And so the phrase "a thousand times over" is coloured with some pretty
devastating irony. Yes, Hosseini is using irony again. (CHAPTER 7)
“[Assef:] "But before you sacrifice yourself for him, think about this: Would he do the same for you?
Have you ever wondered why he never includes you in games when he has guests? Why he only plays
with you when no one else is around? I'll tell you why, Hazara. Because to him, you're nothing but an
ugly pet. Something he can play with when he's bored, something he can kick when he's angry. Don't
ever fool yourself and think you're something more."
"Amir agha and I are friends," Hassan said. He looked flushed.
"Friends?" Assef said, laughing. "You pathetic fool! Someday you'll wake up from your little fantasy
and learn just how good of a friend he is. Now, bas! Enough of this. Give us that kite." (7.106-108)”
This is a fairly complex scene. Assef, before he assaults and rapes Hassan, asks Hassan whether he
really wants to sacrifice himself for Amir. We know Amir is listening in – and watching – this
exchange between Assef and Hassan. In a way, Assef's speech is not prophetic but descriptive: Amir
is abandoning Hassan right now. However, we wonder if Assef's description is inaccurate. Is Assef
describing his own relationship with Hazaras or Amir's with Hassan? Sure, sometimes Amir does
cruel things to Hassan, but he also reads to Hassan and spends almost all his free time with Hassan.
Amir may hesitate to call Hassan his friend, but perhaps that's because neither "friend" nor
"servant" really describes Hassan. "Brother" might do the trick, but Amir has no idea at this point.
“Lying awake in bed that night, I thought of Soraya Taheri's sickle-shaped birthmark, her gently
hooked nose, and the way her luminous eyes had fleetingly held mine. My heart stuttered at the
thought of her. (11.104)”
Soraya doesn't sound that hot here. From Hosseini's description, we picture the witch in "Sleeping
Beauty": her nose is hooked like a scythe, and her eyes are glowing in a potion-induced mania.
However, we do think Soraya's sickle-shaped birthmark should remind you of someone else in the
book. Give up? That's right: Hassan. (Hassan has a harelip.) Why do you think Hosseini compare
these two characters through their physical features? What else do they have in common?
(CHAPTER 11)
“I know," he said, breaking our embrace. "Inshallah, we'll celebrate later. Right now, I'm going to run
that blue kite for you," he said. He dropped the spool and took off running, the hem of his green
chapan dragging in the snow behind him. "Hassan!" I called. "Come back with it!" He was already
turning the street corner, his rubber boots kicking up snow. He stopped, turned. He cupped his hands
around his mouth. "For you a thousand times over!" he said. Then he smiled his Hassan smile and
disappeared around the corner. The next time I saw him smile unabashedly like that was twenty-six
years later, in a faded Polaroid photograph. (7.52-54)”
Yet again, Hassan demonstrates his loyalty and devotion to Amir. If we were to judge Amir and
Hassan's friendship by actions and not simply expressions of loyalty, the score would be pretty
lopsided. (Of course, Amir saves Hassan's son at the end of the book from a pathological paedophile
so that counts for something.) We also want to point out the irony in Hassan's reply: "For you a
thousand times over!" Amir will develop a pretty nasty case of insomnia as the guilt piles up inside
him. Really, Amir returns to the alleyway thousands of times in his memory before he comes to
peace with his cowardice. And so the phrase "a thousand times over" is coloured with some pretty
devastating irony. Yes, Hosseini is using irony again. (CHAPTER 7)
“[Assef:] "But before you sacrifice yourself for him, think about this: Would he do the same for you?
Have you ever wondered why he never includes you in games when he has guests? Why he only plays
with you when no one else is around? I'll tell you why, Hazara. Because to him, you're nothing but an
ugly pet. Something he can play with when he's bored, something he can kick when he's angry. Don't
ever fool yourself and think you're something more."
"Amir agha and I are friends," Hassan said. He looked flushed.
"Friends?" Assef said, laughing. "You pathetic fool! Someday you'll wake up from your little fantasy
and learn just how good of a friend he is. Now, bas! Enough of this. Give us that kite." (7.106-108)”
This is a fairly complex scene. Assef, before he assaults and rapes Hassan, asks Hassan whether he
really wants to sacrifice himself for Amir. We know Amir is listening in – and watching – this
exchange between Assef and Hassan. In a way, Assef's speech is not prophetic but descriptive: Amir
is abandoning Hassan right now. However, we wonder if Assef's description is inaccurate. Is Assef
describing his own relationship with Hazaras or Amir's with Hassan? Sure, sometimes Amir does
cruel things to Hassan, but he also reads to Hassan and spends almost all his free time with Hassan.
Amir may hesitate to call Hassan his friend, but perhaps that's because neither "friend" nor
"servant" really describes Hassan. "Brother" might do the trick, but Amir has no idea at this point.
“Lying awake in bed that night, I thought of Soraya Taheri's sickle-shaped birthmark, her gently
hooked nose, and the way her luminous eyes had fleetingly held mine. My heart stuttered at the
thought of her. (11.104)”
Soraya doesn't sound that hot here. From Hosseini's description, we picture the witch in "Sleeping
Beauty": her nose is hooked like a scythe, and her eyes are glowing in a potion-induced mania.
However, we do think Soraya's sickle-shaped birthmark should remind you of someone else in the
book. Give up? That's right: Hassan. (Hassan has a harelip.) Why do you think Hosseini compare
these two characters through their physical features? What else do they have in common?
(CHAPTER 11)
CODEY CARTLEDGE: ENGLISH: THE KITE RUNNER: TRUDI:
“Next to me, Sohrab was breathing rapidly through his nose. The spool rolled in his palms, the
tendons in his scarred wrists like rubab strings. Then I blinked and, for just a moment, the hands
holding the spool were the chipped-nailed, calloused hands of a harelipped boy. I heard a crow
cawing somewhere and I looked up. The park shimmered with snow so fresh, so dazzling white, it
burned my eyes. It sprinkled soundlessly from the branches of white-clad trees. I smelled turnip
qurma now. Dried mulberries. Sour oranges. Sawdust and walnuts. The muffled quiet, snow-quiet,
was deafening. Then far away, across the stillness, a voice calling us home, the voice of a man who
dragged his right leg. (25.150)”
We think this is one of the most beautiful passages in the book. Hosseini moves effortlessly between
the past and present. Sohrab becomes Hassan, and the park in Fremont, California becomes a snow-
quiet Kabul. The smells of Kabul mix with the smells of the New Year celebration in the park.
Perhaps, at least in the space of this passage, Amir does find peace. America allowed Amir to escape
his past for so many years; but, in this moment, the two homelands merge. Ali calls Amir home, and
Amir doesn't seem to mind.
“Next to me, Sohrab was breathing rapidly through his nose. The spool rolled in his palms, the
tendons in his scarred wrists like rubab strings. Then I blinked and, for just a moment, the hands
holding the spool were the chipped-nailed, calloused hands of a harelipped boy. I heard a crow
cawing somewhere and I looked up. The park shimmered with snow so fresh, so dazzling white, it
burned my eyes. It sprinkled soundlessly from the branches of white-clad trees. I smelled turnip
qurma now. Dried mulberries. Sour oranges. Sawdust and walnuts. The muffled quiet, snow-quiet,
was deafening. Then far away, across the stillness, a voice calling us home, the voice of a man who
dragged his right leg. (25.150)”
We think this is one of the most beautiful passages in the book. Hosseini moves effortlessly between
the past and present. Sohrab becomes Hassan, and the park in Fremont, California becomes a snow-
quiet Kabul. The smells of Kabul mix with the smells of the New Year celebration in the park.
Perhaps, at least in the space of this passage, Amir does find peace. America allowed Amir to escape
his past for so many years; but, in this moment, the two homelands merge. Ali calls Amir home, and
Amir doesn't seem to mind.
CODEY CARTLEDGE: ENGLISH: THE KITE RUNNER: TRUDI:
BETRAYL:
The plot of The Kite Runner revolves around the protagonist's betrayal of his best friend. In a way,
this betrayal drives the rest of the book and perhaps everything that precedes it. In his pre-betrayal
and post-betrayal chapters, Hosseini asks some important questions. For example, do you betray
someone without warning, or do small betrayals lead up to a larger one? Can you redeem yourself
after you've betrayed a friend? If your father betrayed his friend are you doomed to repeat the same
mistake? Can you redeem your sins and your father's at the same time? Or does redemption work
like a coupon – only one per customer?
Questions About Betrayal:
1.We think the main betrayal of the book happens in Chapter 7 when Amir doesn't protect Hassan
from Assef. However, the novel has plenty of other betrayals in it. Tally them up. Does Baba betray
anyone? Does Amir betray multiple people? Do smaller betrayals lead up to this larger one? Do the
other betrayals help us interpret Amir's abandonment of Hassan in the alleyway?
2. Baba never tells Amir he fathered Hassan. Amir never tells Baba he left Hassan in the alleyway, or
that he put the watch and money under Hassan's mattress. What role does silence play in the novel?
Can betrayal (like silence) be continuous?
3. Early on in the novel, Baba drops the following knowledge: "Now, no matter what the mullah
teaches, there is only one sin, only one. And that is theft. Every other sin is a variation of theft. Do
you understand that?" (3.29). Through the character of Baba, Hosseini invites us to look at any
wrongdoing in terms of theft. Explain each betrayal in the novel in terms of theft. What has been
stolen? Is Baba's theory useful or has he been drinking too much scotch?
4. Do any betrayals happen on a larger, political scale? Do they map onto the betrayal(s) of the
individual characters?
QUOTES:
“Hassan's favorite book by far was the Shahnamah, the tenth-century epic of ancient Persian heroes.
He liked all of the chapters, the shahs of old, Feridoun, Zal, and Rudabeh. But his favorite story, and
mine, was "Rostam and Sohrab," the tale of the great warrior Rostam and his fleet-footed horse,
Rakhsh. Rostam mortally wounds his valiant nemesis, Sohrab, in battle, only to discover that Sohrab
is his long-lost son. Stricken with grief, Rostam hears his son's dying words:
If thou art indeed my father, then hast thou stained thy sword in the life-blood of thy son. And thou
didst it of thine obstinacy. For I sought to turn thee unto love, and I implored of thee thy name, for I
thought to behold in thee the tokens recounted of my mother. But I appealed unto thy heart in vain,
and now is the time gone for meeting...
"Read it again please, Amir agha," Hassan would say. Sometimes tears pooled in Hassan's eyes as I
read him this passage, and I always wondered whom he wept for, the grief-stricken Rostam who
tears his clothes and covers his head with ashes, or the dying Sohrab who only longed for his father's
love? Personally, I couldn't see the tragedy in Rostam's fate. After all, didn't all fathers in their secret
hearts harbor a desire to kill their sons? (4.23-24)”
Although you can read the story of "Rostam and Sohrab" as an allegory for Baba and Amir's
relationship, we think the most obvious parallel is to Amir and Hassan. Amir doesn't kill Hassan
directly, but he does bring about Hassan's exile from Baba's household. This exile eventually places
BETRAYL:
The plot of The Kite Runner revolves around the protagonist's betrayal of his best friend. In a way,
this betrayal drives the rest of the book and perhaps everything that precedes it. In his pre-betrayal
and post-betrayal chapters, Hosseini asks some important questions. For example, do you betray
someone without warning, or do small betrayals lead up to a larger one? Can you redeem yourself
after you've betrayed a friend? If your father betrayed his friend are you doomed to repeat the same
mistake? Can you redeem your sins and your father's at the same time? Or does redemption work
like a coupon – only one per customer?
Questions About Betrayal:
1.We think the main betrayal of the book happens in Chapter 7 when Amir doesn't protect Hassan
from Assef. However, the novel has plenty of other betrayals in it. Tally them up. Does Baba betray
anyone? Does Amir betray multiple people? Do smaller betrayals lead up to this larger one? Do the
other betrayals help us interpret Amir's abandonment of Hassan in the alleyway?
2. Baba never tells Amir he fathered Hassan. Amir never tells Baba he left Hassan in the alleyway, or
that he put the watch and money under Hassan's mattress. What role does silence play in the novel?
Can betrayal (like silence) be continuous?
3. Early on in the novel, Baba drops the following knowledge: "Now, no matter what the mullah
teaches, there is only one sin, only one. And that is theft. Every other sin is a variation of theft. Do
you understand that?" (3.29). Through the character of Baba, Hosseini invites us to look at any
wrongdoing in terms of theft. Explain each betrayal in the novel in terms of theft. What has been
stolen? Is Baba's theory useful or has he been drinking too much scotch?
4. Do any betrayals happen on a larger, political scale? Do they map onto the betrayal(s) of the
individual characters?
QUOTES:
“Hassan's favorite book by far was the Shahnamah, the tenth-century epic of ancient Persian heroes.
He liked all of the chapters, the shahs of old, Feridoun, Zal, and Rudabeh. But his favorite story, and
mine, was "Rostam and Sohrab," the tale of the great warrior Rostam and his fleet-footed horse,
Rakhsh. Rostam mortally wounds his valiant nemesis, Sohrab, in battle, only to discover that Sohrab
is his long-lost son. Stricken with grief, Rostam hears his son's dying words:
If thou art indeed my father, then hast thou stained thy sword in the life-blood of thy son. And thou
didst it of thine obstinacy. For I sought to turn thee unto love, and I implored of thee thy name, for I
thought to behold in thee the tokens recounted of my mother. But I appealed unto thy heart in vain,
and now is the time gone for meeting...
"Read it again please, Amir agha," Hassan would say. Sometimes tears pooled in Hassan's eyes as I
read him this passage, and I always wondered whom he wept for, the grief-stricken Rostam who
tears his clothes and covers his head with ashes, or the dying Sohrab who only longed for his father's
love? Personally, I couldn't see the tragedy in Rostam's fate. After all, didn't all fathers in their secret
hearts harbor a desire to kill their sons? (4.23-24)”
Although you can read the story of "Rostam and Sohrab" as an allegory for Baba and Amir's
relationship, we think the most obvious parallel is to Amir and Hassan. Amir doesn't kill Hassan
directly, but he does bring about Hassan's exile from Baba's household. This exile eventually places
CODEY CARTLEDGE: ENGLISH: THE KITE RUNNER: TRUDI:
Hassan in a situation where he is killed. Amir, to some extent, takes the blame for Hassan's death.
Like Rostam, Amir figures out much too late who fathered Hassan. We think you could very easily
substitute "brothers" for "sons" in the final sentence: "After all, don't we all in our secret hearts
harbor a desire to kill our brothers?" ("Cain and Abel" seems just as appropriate as "Rostam and
Sohrab.") (CHAPTER 4)
“He turned to me. A few sweat beads rolled from his bald scalp. "Would I ever lie to you, Amir agha?"
Suddenly I decided to toy with him a little. "I don't know. Would you?"
"I'd sooner eat dirt," he said with a look of indignation.
"Really? You'd do that?"
He threw me a puzzled look. "Do what?"
"Eat dirt if I told you to," I said. I knew I was being cruel, like when I'd taunt him if he didn't know
some big word. But there was something fascinating – albeit in a sick way – about teasing Hassan.
Kind of like when we used to play insect torture. Except now, he was the ant and I was holding the
magnifying glass. (6.29-34)”
Jeez, Amir. Notice how Hosseini prepares us for Amir's major betrayal of Hassan. Hosseini has Amir
betray Hassan – or at least be cruel to Hassan – in all sorts of small ways. He inserts his own stories
into the tales he reads to Hassan. He flaunts his literacy. He doesn't defend Hassan from the
neighbourhood boys and almost blurts out that Hassan is only his servant and not a friend.
(CHAPTER 6)
“I stopped watching, turned away from the alley. Something warm was running down my wrist. I
blinked, saw I was still biting down on my fist, hard enough to draw blood from the knuckles. I
realized something else. I was weeping. From just around the corner, I could hear Assef's quick,
rhythmic grunts.
I had one last chance to make a decision. One final opportunity to decide who I was going to be. I
could step into that alley, stand up for Hassan – the way he'd stood up for me all those times in the
past – and accept whatever would happen to me. Or I could run.
In the end, I ran. (7.137-139)”
Amir leaves Hassan in the alleyway. This passage, along with the passage in which Amir plants a wad
of cash and his watch under Hassan's mattress, counts as Amir's two major betrayals of Hassan.
Perhaps because of his guilt, Amir never tells Hassan he saw what happened in the alley. Which
brings up an interesting side question: Do you think Amir's silence is a worse betrayal than Amir's
cowardice? (CHAPTER 7)
“Early that spring, a few days before the new school year started, Baba and I were planting tulips in
the garden. Most of the snow had melted and the hills in the north were already dotted with patches
of green grass. It was a cool, grey morning, and Baba was squatting next to me, digging the soil and
planting the bulbs I handed to him. He was telling me how most people thought it was better to plant
tulips in the fall and how that wasn't true, when I came right out and said it. "Baba, have you ever
thought about getting new servants?" (8.63)”
Amir's question, of course, must pain Baba quite a bit since Hassan is his son. It seems Amir can't
handle anything that reminds him of his cowardice, even if it's his best friend. Unlike Amir, Baba
keeps the reminders of his guilt around. (Those reminders would be Ali and Hassan since Baba slept
Hassan in a situation where he is killed. Amir, to some extent, takes the blame for Hassan's death.
Like Rostam, Amir figures out much too late who fathered Hassan. We think you could very easily
substitute "brothers" for "sons" in the final sentence: "After all, don't we all in our secret hearts
harbor a desire to kill our brothers?" ("Cain and Abel" seems just as appropriate as "Rostam and
Sohrab.") (CHAPTER 4)
“He turned to me. A few sweat beads rolled from his bald scalp. "Would I ever lie to you, Amir agha?"
Suddenly I decided to toy with him a little. "I don't know. Would you?"
"I'd sooner eat dirt," he said with a look of indignation.
"Really? You'd do that?"
He threw me a puzzled look. "Do what?"
"Eat dirt if I told you to," I said. I knew I was being cruel, like when I'd taunt him if he didn't know
some big word. But there was something fascinating – albeit in a sick way – about teasing Hassan.
Kind of like when we used to play insect torture. Except now, he was the ant and I was holding the
magnifying glass. (6.29-34)”
Jeez, Amir. Notice how Hosseini prepares us for Amir's major betrayal of Hassan. Hosseini has Amir
betray Hassan – or at least be cruel to Hassan – in all sorts of small ways. He inserts his own stories
into the tales he reads to Hassan. He flaunts his literacy. He doesn't defend Hassan from the
neighbourhood boys and almost blurts out that Hassan is only his servant and not a friend.
(CHAPTER 6)
“I stopped watching, turned away from the alley. Something warm was running down my wrist. I
blinked, saw I was still biting down on my fist, hard enough to draw blood from the knuckles. I
realized something else. I was weeping. From just around the corner, I could hear Assef's quick,
rhythmic grunts.
I had one last chance to make a decision. One final opportunity to decide who I was going to be. I
could step into that alley, stand up for Hassan – the way he'd stood up for me all those times in the
past – and accept whatever would happen to me. Or I could run.
In the end, I ran. (7.137-139)”
Amir leaves Hassan in the alleyway. This passage, along with the passage in which Amir plants a wad
of cash and his watch under Hassan's mattress, counts as Amir's two major betrayals of Hassan.
Perhaps because of his guilt, Amir never tells Hassan he saw what happened in the alley. Which
brings up an interesting side question: Do you think Amir's silence is a worse betrayal than Amir's
cowardice? (CHAPTER 7)
“Early that spring, a few days before the new school year started, Baba and I were planting tulips in
the garden. Most of the snow had melted and the hills in the north were already dotted with patches
of green grass. It was a cool, grey morning, and Baba was squatting next to me, digging the soil and
planting the bulbs I handed to him. He was telling me how most people thought it was better to plant
tulips in the fall and how that wasn't true, when I came right out and said it. "Baba, have you ever
thought about getting new servants?" (8.63)”
Amir's question, of course, must pain Baba quite a bit since Hassan is his son. It seems Amir can't
handle anything that reminds him of his cowardice, even if it's his best friend. Unlike Amir, Baba
keeps the reminders of his guilt around. (Those reminders would be Ali and Hassan since Baba slept
CODEY CARTLEDGE: ENGLISH: THE KITE RUNNER: TRUDI:
with Ali's wife and fathered Hassan.) Do you blame Amir absolutely for Hassan and Ali's departure?
Does some unconscious part of Amir send Hassan and Ali away so he can have Baba all to himself?
(CHAPTER 8)
“Then I took a couple of the envelopes of cash from the pile of gifts and my watch, and tiptoed out. I
paused before Baba's study and listened in. He'd been in there all morning, making phone calls. He
was talking to someone now, about a shipment of rugs due to arrive next week. I went downstairs,
crossed the yard, and entered Ali and Hassan's living quarters by the loquat tree. I lifted Hassan's
mattress and planted my new watch and a handful of Afghani bills under it.
I waited another thirty minutes. Then I knocked on Baba's door and told what I hoped would be the
last in a long line of shameful lies. (9.21-22)”
People do something terrible in order not to do any more terrible things. This bizarre logic guides
Amir. In order to not lie anymore, Amir needs Baba to fire Hassan and Ali. We find it quite sad that
Ali, through no fault of his own, gets caught up in Amir's guilt and jealousy. Seriously, Ali is even
more innocent than Hassan – Ali had no part in the alleyway incident and has served Baba faithfully
his whole life. Sometimes Amir is a jerk. (CHAPTER 9)
“I flinched, like I'd been slapped. My heart sank and I almost blurted out the truth. Then I understood:
This was Hassan's final sacrifice for me. If he'd said no, Baba would have believed him because we all
knew Hassan never lied. And if Baba believed him, then I'd be the accused; I would have to explain
and I would be revealed for what I really was. Baba would never, ever forgive me. And that led to
another understanding: Hassan knew. He knew I'd seen everything in that alley, that I'd stood there
and done nothing. He knew I had betrayed him and yet he was rescuing me once again, maybe for
the last time. I loved him in that moment, loved him more than I'd ever loved anyone, and I wanted
to tell them all that I was the snake in the grass, the monster in the lake. I wasn't worthy of this
sacrifice; I was a liar, a cheat, and a thief. And I would have told, except that a part of me was glad.
Glad that this would all be over with soon. Baba would dismiss them, there would be some pain, but
life would move on. I wanted that, to move on, to forget, to start with a clean slate. I wanted to be
able to breathe again. (9.29)”
Amir is right about one thing: if Baba knew the extent of Amir's deception, he would disown Amir.
Meaning, if Baba knew Amir planted the watch and cash, and that Amir abandoned Hassan when
Hassan really needed him, Baba's rage would know no bounds. Notice Amir never tells Baba what
happened to Hassan, or how he brought about Ali and Hassan's departure. Even after Amir and Baba
arrive in America, Amir doesn't confess his misdeeds. Even when Baba is on his deathbed, Amir
remains silent. In this way, Amir is totally and tragically wrong in saying he's "[g]lad this would all be
over with soon."
“I thought about a comment Rahim Khan had made just before we hung up. Made it in passing,
almost as an afterthought. I closed my eyes and saw him at the other end of the scratchy long-
distance line, saw him with his lips slightly parted, head tilted to one side. And again, something in
his bottomless black eyes hinted at an unspoken secret between us. Except now I knew he knew. My
suspicions had been right all those years. He knew about Assef, the kite, the money, the watch with
the lightning bolt hands. He had always known.
Come. There is a way to be good again, Rahim Khan had said on the phone just before hanging up.
Said it in passing, almost as an afterthought. (14.18-19)”
with Ali's wife and fathered Hassan.) Do you blame Amir absolutely for Hassan and Ali's departure?
Does some unconscious part of Amir send Hassan and Ali away so he can have Baba all to himself?
(CHAPTER 8)
“Then I took a couple of the envelopes of cash from the pile of gifts and my watch, and tiptoed out. I
paused before Baba's study and listened in. He'd been in there all morning, making phone calls. He
was talking to someone now, about a shipment of rugs due to arrive next week. I went downstairs,
crossed the yard, and entered Ali and Hassan's living quarters by the loquat tree. I lifted Hassan's
mattress and planted my new watch and a handful of Afghani bills under it.
I waited another thirty minutes. Then I knocked on Baba's door and told what I hoped would be the
last in a long line of shameful lies. (9.21-22)”
People do something terrible in order not to do any more terrible things. This bizarre logic guides
Amir. In order to not lie anymore, Amir needs Baba to fire Hassan and Ali. We find it quite sad that
Ali, through no fault of his own, gets caught up in Amir's guilt and jealousy. Seriously, Ali is even
more innocent than Hassan – Ali had no part in the alleyway incident and has served Baba faithfully
his whole life. Sometimes Amir is a jerk. (CHAPTER 9)
“I flinched, like I'd been slapped. My heart sank and I almost blurted out the truth. Then I understood:
This was Hassan's final sacrifice for me. If he'd said no, Baba would have believed him because we all
knew Hassan never lied. And if Baba believed him, then I'd be the accused; I would have to explain
and I would be revealed for what I really was. Baba would never, ever forgive me. And that led to
another understanding: Hassan knew. He knew I'd seen everything in that alley, that I'd stood there
and done nothing. He knew I had betrayed him and yet he was rescuing me once again, maybe for
the last time. I loved him in that moment, loved him more than I'd ever loved anyone, and I wanted
to tell them all that I was the snake in the grass, the monster in the lake. I wasn't worthy of this
sacrifice; I was a liar, a cheat, and a thief. And I would have told, except that a part of me was glad.
Glad that this would all be over with soon. Baba would dismiss them, there would be some pain, but
life would move on. I wanted that, to move on, to forget, to start with a clean slate. I wanted to be
able to breathe again. (9.29)”
Amir is right about one thing: if Baba knew the extent of Amir's deception, he would disown Amir.
Meaning, if Baba knew Amir planted the watch and cash, and that Amir abandoned Hassan when
Hassan really needed him, Baba's rage would know no bounds. Notice Amir never tells Baba what
happened to Hassan, or how he brought about Ali and Hassan's departure. Even after Amir and Baba
arrive in America, Amir doesn't confess his misdeeds. Even when Baba is on his deathbed, Amir
remains silent. In this way, Amir is totally and tragically wrong in saying he's "[g]lad this would all be
over with soon."
“I thought about a comment Rahim Khan had made just before we hung up. Made it in passing,
almost as an afterthought. I closed my eyes and saw him at the other end of the scratchy long-
distance line, saw him with his lips slightly parted, head tilted to one side. And again, something in
his bottomless black eyes hinted at an unspoken secret between us. Except now I knew he knew. My
suspicions had been right all those years. He knew about Assef, the kite, the money, the watch with
the lightning bolt hands. He had always known.
Come. There is a way to be good again, Rahim Khan had said on the phone just before hanging up.
Said it in passing, almost as an afterthought. (14.18-19)”
CODEY CARTLEDGE: ENGLISH: THE KITE RUNNER: TRUDI:
It's fitting that Rahim Khan points Amir toward Sohrab – a boy who's being abused by Assef – as a
way to redeem himself. ("There is a way to be good again.") Basically, Rahim Khan is saying to Amir:
"Here's how you can undo the damage you lavished on Hassan." By saving Sohrab, intervention will
replace passivity for Amir. While we're on the topic of redemption: voice also replaces silence
through Amir's narration of the novel. After all these years, Amir has said nary a word about the
alleyway and the mattress and now he lets loose 371 pages worth of words. The man needs some
redemption. (CHAPTER 14)
“I felt like a man sliding down a steep cliff, clutching at shrubs and tangles of brambles and coming
up empty-handed. The room was swooping up and down, swaying side to side. "Did Hassan know?" I
said through lips that didn't feel like my own. Rahim Khan closed his eyes. Shook his head. [...]
"Please think, Amir Jan. It was a shameful situation. People would talk. All that a man had back then,
all that he was, was his honour, his name, and if people talked...We couldn't tell anyone, surely you
can see that." He reached for me, but I shed his hand. Headed for the door. [...]
I opened the door and turned to him. "Why? What can you possibly say to me? I'm thirty-eight years
old and I've just found out my whole life is one big fucking lie! What can you possibly say to make
things better? Nothing. Not a goddamn thing!" (17.57-63)”
Rahim Khan tells Amir about Baba's betrayal of him, Hassan, and Ali. Here's the story: Baba slept
with Sanaubar, Ali's wife, and fathered Hassan. But Baba never told Amir or Hassan about it. We
wonder if Rahim Khan's revelation makes life easier or harder for Amir. On the one hand, Amir sees,
for the first time, the similarities between himself and his father. Now he knows he wasn't the only
one walking around with a ton of bricks (a.k.a. secret guilt). But does this really help Amir? Is it
comforting at all to know his father made similar mistakes? Amir's betrayal of Hassan brings him
closer to Baba in ways he couldn't have predicted. Although the two don't share the same secrets,
they do share the secrecy of guilt. (CHAPTER 17)
“We said our good-byes early the next morning. Just before I climbed into the Land Cruiser, I thanked
Wahid for his hospitality. He pointed to the little house behind him. "This is your home," he said. His
three sons were standing in the doorway watching us. The little one was wearing the watch – it
dangled around his twiggy wrist. (19.113)”
To undo his actions – or pardon himself – Amir gives Wahid's sons a watch. Where did we see a
watch before in this novel? Oh yeah, the time Amir put a watch under Hassan's mattress in order to
get his half-brother dismissed from the household. Now that we think about it, this story has a lot in
common with Oedipus the King and other Greek tragedies. (Here, let me betray you. What's that?
You're my brother? Flip.) (CHAPTER 19)
“[Amir:] "Well, Mr. Faisal thinks that it would really help if we could...if we could ask you to stay in a
home for kids for a while."
[Sohrab:] "Home for kids?" he said, his smile fading. "You mean an orphanage?"
[Amir:] "It would only be for a little while."
[Sohrab:] "No," he said. "No, please."
[Amir:] "Sohrab, it would be for just a little while. I promise."
[Sohrab:] "You promised you'd never put me in one of those places, Amir agha," he said. His voice
was breaking, tears pooling in his eyes. (24.350-355)”
It's fitting that Rahim Khan points Amir toward Sohrab – a boy who's being abused by Assef – as a
way to redeem himself. ("There is a way to be good again.") Basically, Rahim Khan is saying to Amir:
"Here's how you can undo the damage you lavished on Hassan." By saving Sohrab, intervention will
replace passivity for Amir. While we're on the topic of redemption: voice also replaces silence
through Amir's narration of the novel. After all these years, Amir has said nary a word about the
alleyway and the mattress and now he lets loose 371 pages worth of words. The man needs some
redemption. (CHAPTER 14)
“I felt like a man sliding down a steep cliff, clutching at shrubs and tangles of brambles and coming
up empty-handed. The room was swooping up and down, swaying side to side. "Did Hassan know?" I
said through lips that didn't feel like my own. Rahim Khan closed his eyes. Shook his head. [...]
"Please think, Amir Jan. It was a shameful situation. People would talk. All that a man had back then,
all that he was, was his honour, his name, and if people talked...We couldn't tell anyone, surely you
can see that." He reached for me, but I shed his hand. Headed for the door. [...]
I opened the door and turned to him. "Why? What can you possibly say to me? I'm thirty-eight years
old and I've just found out my whole life is one big fucking lie! What can you possibly say to make
things better? Nothing. Not a goddamn thing!" (17.57-63)”
Rahim Khan tells Amir about Baba's betrayal of him, Hassan, and Ali. Here's the story: Baba slept
with Sanaubar, Ali's wife, and fathered Hassan. But Baba never told Amir or Hassan about it. We
wonder if Rahim Khan's revelation makes life easier or harder for Amir. On the one hand, Amir sees,
for the first time, the similarities between himself and his father. Now he knows he wasn't the only
one walking around with a ton of bricks (a.k.a. secret guilt). But does this really help Amir? Is it
comforting at all to know his father made similar mistakes? Amir's betrayal of Hassan brings him
closer to Baba in ways he couldn't have predicted. Although the two don't share the same secrets,
they do share the secrecy of guilt. (CHAPTER 17)
“We said our good-byes early the next morning. Just before I climbed into the Land Cruiser, I thanked
Wahid for his hospitality. He pointed to the little house behind him. "This is your home," he said. His
three sons were standing in the doorway watching us. The little one was wearing the watch – it
dangled around his twiggy wrist. (19.113)”
To undo his actions – or pardon himself – Amir gives Wahid's sons a watch. Where did we see a
watch before in this novel? Oh yeah, the time Amir put a watch under Hassan's mattress in order to
get his half-brother dismissed from the household. Now that we think about it, this story has a lot in
common with Oedipus the King and other Greek tragedies. (Here, let me betray you. What's that?
You're my brother? Flip.) (CHAPTER 19)
“[Amir:] "Well, Mr. Faisal thinks that it would really help if we could...if we could ask you to stay in a
home for kids for a while."
[Sohrab:] "Home for kids?" he said, his smile fading. "You mean an orphanage?"
[Amir:] "It would only be for a little while."
[Sohrab:] "No," he said. "No, please."
[Amir:] "Sohrab, it would be for just a little while. I promise."
[Sohrab:] "You promised you'd never put me in one of those places, Amir agha," he said. His voice
was breaking, tears pooling in his eyes. (24.350-355)”
CODEY CARTLEDGE: ENGLISH: THE KITE RUNNER: TRUDI:
Just when you thought Amir did something nice for a change...he goes back on his promise to
Sohrab. Amir's broken promise has disastrous consequences: Sohrab tries to kill himself. Does Amir
betray yet another person? Or, is this "betrayal" out of Amir's hands? If so, does Amir's helplessness
in this situation force you to reinterpret Amir's earlier abandonment of Hassan? Does this passage
suggest Amir really wasn't to blame for abandoning Hassan? (CHAPTER 24)
Just when you thought Amir did something nice for a change...he goes back on his promise to
Sohrab. Amir's broken promise has disastrous consequences: Sohrab tries to kill himself. Does Amir
betray yet another person? Or, is this "betrayal" out of Amir's hands? If so, does Amir's helplessness
in this situation force you to reinterpret Amir's earlier abandonment of Hassan? Does this passage
suggest Amir really wasn't to blame for abandoning Hassan? (CHAPTER 24)
CODEY CARTLEDGE: ENGLISH: THE KITE RUNNER: TRUDI:
WARFARE:
In The Kite Runner, Hosseini directly compares the arrival of war to a loss of innocence. (Soon after
an invading army shows up, the narrator watches his best friend get raped.) The book also explores
war as experienced from a distance, either through memory or through the media and televised
war. Hosseini interrogates the effect of war on our social structures as well: Do economic class and
ethnicity dissolve in the face of war or do these categories become even more rigid? It's not all
horror and gloom, though. In the end, Hosseini wants to show us how honour and dignity can
survive in the midst of war.
Questions About Warfare:
Amir writes a story early on in the novel in which a man kills his wife because he found a magic cup
that turns his tears into pearls. By killing his wife, the man weeps and becomes rich. When Amir
reads this story to Hassan, Hassan asks Amir if the man really had to kill his wife in the story. Hassan
says, "In fact, why did he ever have to feel sad to shed tears? Couldn't he have just smelled an
onion?" (4.61).
1. Does Hosseini unnecessarily write about not only Afghanistan's violent history but a brutal
act? Or does Hosseini write about a necessary topic? Is Hassan missing the point?
2. Hosseini explores the American experience of the Afghan wars, which is filtered through the
news media. He writes: "Now Dan Rather, Tom Brokaw, and people sipping lattes at
Starbucks were talking about the battle for Kunduz, the Taliban's last stronghold in the
north" (25.106). Is the book itself a mediated experience? Does Hosseini comment on his
own book (and his readers) in this quote? Is this quote also a criticism of himself and Amir?
3. The book talks a lot about nang and namoos, the Afghan principles of honour and pride.
These principles survive (and even flourish) despite the multiple wars of the novel. Even
though these principles redeem certain characters from the horrors of war, can these very
principles cause wars?
4. In the middle of the book, we find out that Ali has stepped on a land mine and is dead. In
addition, Talib soldiers execute Hassan and his wife. Even further, Sohrab is (more or less)
abducted and forced to be a sex slave for a Talib official. All of these characters have an air
of innocence about them. War, for Hosseini, it seems, is indiscriminate and often murders
the blameless. At one point, Baba, Amir, Ali and Hassan even celebrate Eid-e-Aorban, the
holiday commemorating Ibrahim's near-sacrifice of his son to God. Is this celebration
intimately tied to Hosseini's concept of war?
QUOTES:
“We stayed huddled that way until the early hours of the morning. The shootings and
explosions had lasted less than an hour, but they had frightened us badly, because none of us
had ever heard gunshots in the streets. They were foreign sounds to us then. The generation
of Afghan children whose ears would know nothing but the sounds of bombs and gunfire was
not yet born. Huddled together in the dining room and waiting for the sun to rise, none of us
had any notion that a way of life had ended. Our way of life. If not quite yet, then at least it
was the beginning of the end. The end, the official end, would come first in April 1978 with
the communist coup d'état, and then in December 1979, when Russian tanks would roll into
the very same streets where Hassan and I played, bringing the death of the Afghanistan I
knew and marking the start of a still ongoing era of bloodletting. (5.5)”
WARFARE:
In The Kite Runner, Hosseini directly compares the arrival of war to a loss of innocence. (Soon after
an invading army shows up, the narrator watches his best friend get raped.) The book also explores
war as experienced from a distance, either through memory or through the media and televised
war. Hosseini interrogates the effect of war on our social structures as well: Do economic class and
ethnicity dissolve in the face of war or do these categories become even more rigid? It's not all
horror and gloom, though. In the end, Hosseini wants to show us how honour and dignity can
survive in the midst of war.
Questions About Warfare:
Amir writes a story early on in the novel in which a man kills his wife because he found a magic cup
that turns his tears into pearls. By killing his wife, the man weeps and becomes rich. When Amir
reads this story to Hassan, Hassan asks Amir if the man really had to kill his wife in the story. Hassan
says, "In fact, why did he ever have to feel sad to shed tears? Couldn't he have just smelled an
onion?" (4.61).
1. Does Hosseini unnecessarily write about not only Afghanistan's violent history but a brutal
act? Or does Hosseini write about a necessary topic? Is Hassan missing the point?
2. Hosseini explores the American experience of the Afghan wars, which is filtered through the
news media. He writes: "Now Dan Rather, Tom Brokaw, and people sipping lattes at
Starbucks were talking about the battle for Kunduz, the Taliban's last stronghold in the
north" (25.106). Is the book itself a mediated experience? Does Hosseini comment on his
own book (and his readers) in this quote? Is this quote also a criticism of himself and Amir?
3. The book talks a lot about nang and namoos, the Afghan principles of honour and pride.
These principles survive (and even flourish) despite the multiple wars of the novel. Even
though these principles redeem certain characters from the horrors of war, can these very
principles cause wars?
4. In the middle of the book, we find out that Ali has stepped on a land mine and is dead. In
addition, Talib soldiers execute Hassan and his wife. Even further, Sohrab is (more or less)
abducted and forced to be a sex slave for a Talib official. All of these characters have an air
of innocence about them. War, for Hosseini, it seems, is indiscriminate and often murders
the blameless. At one point, Baba, Amir, Ali and Hassan even celebrate Eid-e-Aorban, the
holiday commemorating Ibrahim's near-sacrifice of his son to God. Is this celebration
intimately tied to Hosseini's concept of war?
QUOTES:
“We stayed huddled that way until the early hours of the morning. The shootings and
explosions had lasted less than an hour, but they had frightened us badly, because none of us
had ever heard gunshots in the streets. They were foreign sounds to us then. The generation
of Afghan children whose ears would know nothing but the sounds of bombs and gunfire was
not yet born. Huddled together in the dining room and waiting for the sun to rise, none of us
had any notion that a way of life had ended. Our way of life. If not quite yet, then at least it
was the beginning of the end. The end, the official end, would come first in April 1978 with
the communist coup d'état, and then in December 1979, when Russian tanks would roll into
the very same streets where Hassan and I played, bringing the death of the Afghanistan I
knew and marking the start of a still ongoing era of bloodletting. (5.5)”
CODEY CARTLEDGE: ENGLISH: THE KITE RUNNER: TRUDI:
If you were to describe Afghanistan's political situation, you might describe it as "war-torn" or
"ravaged." But those descriptions apply, really, only from 1978 on – before then, Afghanistan was a
relatively peaceful country. In this passage, Amir documents the sea change the country undergoes
in the late '70s. A way of life ends – and, importantly, the children born after this period won't
remember peace because they never experienced it. Notice, too, that Hosseini places Afghanistan's
loss of innocence right next to Amir's and Hassan's – the infamous rape scene happens only two
chapters later. (CHAPTER 5)
“You couldn't trust anyone in Kabul any more – for a fee or under threat, people told on each other,
neighbour on neighbour, child on parent, brother on brother, servant on master, friend on friend. [...].
The rafiqs, the comrades, were everywhere and they'd split Kabul into two groups: those who
eavesdropped and those who didn't. The tricky part was that no one knew who belonged to which. A
casual remark to the tailor while getting fitted for a suit might land you in the dungeons of Poleh-
charkhi. Complain about the curfew to the butcher and next thing you knew, you were behind bars
staring at the muzzle end of a Kalashnikov. Even at the dinner table, in the privacy of their home,
people had to speak in a calculated manner – the rafiqs were in the classrooms too; they'd taught
children to spy on their parents, what to listen for, whom to tell. (10.8)”
Of course, war changes everything. But it's still surprising, somehow, that the home itself could
become a charged and dangerous environment. Isn't the home supposed to be a place where you
can relax a little? Where you can count on the loyalty of your family? Apparently, that's not the case
in Shorawi-occupied (Soviet-occupied) Afghanistan. Hosseini is describing, here, the dangers of
occupied Afghanistan, but he's also referencing other betrayals. Later in the book, we learn Hassan is
Amir's half-brother, though no one tells Amir this until he's 38. Later in the book, we learn Baba,
Amir's father, knew all along Hassan was Amir's half-brother. Count 'em up. Brother betrays brother.
Father betrays son. So is Hosseini only talking about Shorawi-occupied Afghanistan here? Unlikely.
(CHAPTER 10)
“I overheard him telling Baba how he and his brother knew the Russian and Afghan soldiers who
worked the checkpoints, how they had set up a "mutually profitable" arrangement. This was no
dream. As if on cue, a MiG suddenly screamed past overhead. Karim tossed his cigarette and
produced a handgun from his waist. Pointing it to the sky and making shooting gestures, he spat and
cursed at the MiG. (10.9)”
Well, there are plenty of David and Goliath references in this book. Although this passage probably
isn't actually a reference to that Biblical story, it's in the same spirit. Here's an Afghani smuggler
pretending to fire a handgun at a Russian fighter jet. Could Karim be any more powerless? Could his
curses and spittle mean less? Wait a second. Don't forget that the Russians actually give up and
leave Afghanistan. David: 1. Goliath: O. (CHAPTER 10)
“By then – that would have been 1995 – the Shorawi were defeated and long gone and Kabul
belonged to Massoud, Rabbani, and the Mujahedin. The infighting between the factions was fierce
and no one knew if they would live to see the end of the day. Our ears became accustomed to the
whistle of falling shells, to the rumble of gunfire, our eyes familiar with the sight of men digging
bodies out of piles of rubble. Kabul in those days, Amir jan, was as close as you could get to that
proverbial hell on earth. Allah was kind to us, though. The Wazir Akbar Khan area was not attacked
as much, so we did not have it as bad as some of the other neighborhoods. (16.41)”
If you were to describe Afghanistan's political situation, you might describe it as "war-torn" or
"ravaged." But those descriptions apply, really, only from 1978 on – before then, Afghanistan was a
relatively peaceful country. In this passage, Amir documents the sea change the country undergoes
in the late '70s. A way of life ends – and, importantly, the children born after this period won't
remember peace because they never experienced it. Notice, too, that Hosseini places Afghanistan's
loss of innocence right next to Amir's and Hassan's – the infamous rape scene happens only two
chapters later. (CHAPTER 5)
“You couldn't trust anyone in Kabul any more – for a fee or under threat, people told on each other,
neighbour on neighbour, child on parent, brother on brother, servant on master, friend on friend. [...].
The rafiqs, the comrades, were everywhere and they'd split Kabul into two groups: those who
eavesdropped and those who didn't. The tricky part was that no one knew who belonged to which. A
casual remark to the tailor while getting fitted for a suit might land you in the dungeons of Poleh-
charkhi. Complain about the curfew to the butcher and next thing you knew, you were behind bars
staring at the muzzle end of a Kalashnikov. Even at the dinner table, in the privacy of their home,
people had to speak in a calculated manner – the rafiqs were in the classrooms too; they'd taught
children to spy on their parents, what to listen for, whom to tell. (10.8)”
Of course, war changes everything. But it's still surprising, somehow, that the home itself could
become a charged and dangerous environment. Isn't the home supposed to be a place where you
can relax a little? Where you can count on the loyalty of your family? Apparently, that's not the case
in Shorawi-occupied (Soviet-occupied) Afghanistan. Hosseini is describing, here, the dangers of
occupied Afghanistan, but he's also referencing other betrayals. Later in the book, we learn Hassan is
Amir's half-brother, though no one tells Amir this until he's 38. Later in the book, we learn Baba,
Amir's father, knew all along Hassan was Amir's half-brother. Count 'em up. Brother betrays brother.
Father betrays son. So is Hosseini only talking about Shorawi-occupied Afghanistan here? Unlikely.
(CHAPTER 10)
“I overheard him telling Baba how he and his brother knew the Russian and Afghan soldiers who
worked the checkpoints, how they had set up a "mutually profitable" arrangement. This was no
dream. As if on cue, a MiG suddenly screamed past overhead. Karim tossed his cigarette and
produced a handgun from his waist. Pointing it to the sky and making shooting gestures, he spat and
cursed at the MiG. (10.9)”
Well, there are plenty of David and Goliath references in this book. Although this passage probably
isn't actually a reference to that Biblical story, it's in the same spirit. Here's an Afghani smuggler
pretending to fire a handgun at a Russian fighter jet. Could Karim be any more powerless? Could his
curses and spittle mean less? Wait a second. Don't forget that the Russians actually give up and
leave Afghanistan. David: 1. Goliath: O. (CHAPTER 10)
“By then – that would have been 1995 – the Shorawi were defeated and long gone and Kabul
belonged to Massoud, Rabbani, and the Mujahedin. The infighting between the factions was fierce
and no one knew if they would live to see the end of the day. Our ears became accustomed to the
whistle of falling shells, to the rumble of gunfire, our eyes familiar with the sight of men digging
bodies out of piles of rubble. Kabul in those days, Amir jan, was as close as you could get to that
proverbial hell on earth. Allah was kind to us, though. The Wazir Akbar Khan area was not attacked
as much, so we did not have it as bad as some of the other neighborhoods. (16.41)”
CODEY CARTLEDGE: ENGLISH: THE KITE RUNNER: TRUDI:
We just want to point out how the city, in a time of war (or after), can become a necropolis.
(Basically, a city of the dead.) Not only does Hosseini say that Kabul became a "proverbial hell on
earth," he also describes men digging up bodies out of the piles of rubble. Hell, whether you're in the
Greek or Christian tradition, is a pretty darn good example of a city of the dead. And, if you add, just
for kicks, like Hosseini does, the image of men digging up bodies, you've definitely transformed an
active, lively city into a graveyard.
“The trek between Kabul and Jalalabad, a bone-jarring ride down a teetering pass snaking through
the rocks, had become a relic now, a relic of two wars. Twenty years earlier, I had seen some of the
first war with my own eyes. Grim reminders of it were strewn along the road: burned carcasses of old
Soviet tanks, overturned military trucks gone to rust, a crushed Russian jeep that had plunged over
the mountainside. The second war, I had watched on my TV screen. And now I was seeing it through
Farid's eyes. (20.2)”
The trek between Kabul and Jalalabad becomes both an actual, war-torn landscape and a mental
landscape. Let us explain. Amir sees "relics" of the first war with the Soviets, which is a war encased
in his memory. He also sees remnants of the second war (during the 1990s), which he experienced
through TV. Now, listening to Farid, his driver, he experiences the landscape through another
person's eyes. Hosseini allows Amir's noggin to experience the landscape in layers: through memory
(his past), representation (TV), and imagination (as if he's Farid). (CHAPTER 20)
“Rubble and beggars. Everywhere I looked, that was what I saw. I remembered beggars in the old
days too – Baba always carried an extra handful of Afghani bills in his pocket just for them; I'd never
seen him deny a peddler. Now, though, they squatted at every street corner, dressed in shredded
burlap rags, mud-caked hands held out for a coin. And the beggars were mostly children now, thin
and grim-faced, some no older than five or six. They sat in the laps of their burqa-clad mothers
alongside gutters at busy street corners and chanted "Bakhshesh, bakhshesh!" And something else,
something I hadn't noticed right away: Hardly any of them sat with an adult male – the wars had
made fathers a rare commodity in Afghanistan. (20.11)”
The picture of war here just gets worse and worse. Amir is with Farid, driving through Kabul, his
childhood city, and things get grim really quick. Not only have the beggars increased in number since
Amir's childhood, now they're mostly children. Young children, too. Amir also notices that very few
of the children are sitting with an adult male, which means all the older brothers and fathers have
died. Hosseini, on one level, is giving us a picture of Afghanistan; on another, he's commenting on
the situation of his characters. Don't forget that Amir's own father has recently died. And Hassan,
Amir's half-brother and Sohrab's father, died during Taliban rule. Rahim Khan, a father-figure to
Amir, is dying as Amir drives around Kabul. This book is about the effects of war on Afghani people;
but it's also about the very personal losses – a father and a brother and almost a nephew –
experienced by Amir. (CHAPTER 20)
“Jadeh Maywand had turned into a giant sand castle. The buildings that hadn't entirely collapsed
barely stood, with caved in roofs and walls pierced with rockets shells. Entire blocks had been
obliterated to rubble. I saw a bullet-pocked sign half buried at an angle in a heap of debris. It read
DRINK COCA CO––. I saw children playing in the ruins of a windowless building amid jagged stumps
of brick and stone. Bicycle riders and mule-drawn carts swerved around kids, stray dogs, and piles of
debris. A haze of dust hovered over the city and, across the river, a single plume of smoke rose to the
sky. (20.15)”
We just want to point out how the city, in a time of war (or after), can become a necropolis.
(Basically, a city of the dead.) Not only does Hosseini say that Kabul became a "proverbial hell on
earth," he also describes men digging up bodies out of the piles of rubble. Hell, whether you're in the
Greek or Christian tradition, is a pretty darn good example of a city of the dead. And, if you add, just
for kicks, like Hosseini does, the image of men digging up bodies, you've definitely transformed an
active, lively city into a graveyard.
“The trek between Kabul and Jalalabad, a bone-jarring ride down a teetering pass snaking through
the rocks, had become a relic now, a relic of two wars. Twenty years earlier, I had seen some of the
first war with my own eyes. Grim reminders of it were strewn along the road: burned carcasses of old
Soviet tanks, overturned military trucks gone to rust, a crushed Russian jeep that had plunged over
the mountainside. The second war, I had watched on my TV screen. And now I was seeing it through
Farid's eyes. (20.2)”
The trek between Kabul and Jalalabad becomes both an actual, war-torn landscape and a mental
landscape. Let us explain. Amir sees "relics" of the first war with the Soviets, which is a war encased
in his memory. He also sees remnants of the second war (during the 1990s), which he experienced
through TV. Now, listening to Farid, his driver, he experiences the landscape through another
person's eyes. Hosseini allows Amir's noggin to experience the landscape in layers: through memory
(his past), representation (TV), and imagination (as if he's Farid). (CHAPTER 20)
“Rubble and beggars. Everywhere I looked, that was what I saw. I remembered beggars in the old
days too – Baba always carried an extra handful of Afghani bills in his pocket just for them; I'd never
seen him deny a peddler. Now, though, they squatted at every street corner, dressed in shredded
burlap rags, mud-caked hands held out for a coin. And the beggars were mostly children now, thin
and grim-faced, some no older than five or six. They sat in the laps of their burqa-clad mothers
alongside gutters at busy street corners and chanted "Bakhshesh, bakhshesh!" And something else,
something I hadn't noticed right away: Hardly any of them sat with an adult male – the wars had
made fathers a rare commodity in Afghanistan. (20.11)”
The picture of war here just gets worse and worse. Amir is with Farid, driving through Kabul, his
childhood city, and things get grim really quick. Not only have the beggars increased in number since
Amir's childhood, now they're mostly children. Young children, too. Amir also notices that very few
of the children are sitting with an adult male, which means all the older brothers and fathers have
died. Hosseini, on one level, is giving us a picture of Afghanistan; on another, he's commenting on
the situation of his characters. Don't forget that Amir's own father has recently died. And Hassan,
Amir's half-brother and Sohrab's father, died during Taliban rule. Rahim Khan, a father-figure to
Amir, is dying as Amir drives around Kabul. This book is about the effects of war on Afghani people;
but it's also about the very personal losses – a father and a brother and almost a nephew –
experienced by Amir. (CHAPTER 20)
“Jadeh Maywand had turned into a giant sand castle. The buildings that hadn't entirely collapsed
barely stood, with caved in roofs and walls pierced with rockets shells. Entire blocks had been
obliterated to rubble. I saw a bullet-pocked sign half buried at an angle in a heap of debris. It read
DRINK COCA CO––. I saw children playing in the ruins of a windowless building amid jagged stumps
of brick and stone. Bicycle riders and mule-drawn carts swerved around kids, stray dogs, and piles of
debris. A haze of dust hovered over the city and, across the river, a single plume of smoke rose to the
sky. (20.15)”
CODEY CARTLEDGE: ENGLISH: THE KITE RUNNER: TRUDI:
Jadeh Maywand is a big avenue in Kabul where kite shops used to sell their wares. Now, after years
of fighting, it's been turned into rubble. Really, into dust ("a giant sand castle"). But something else
here caught our attention. Yep, the bullet-pocked sign. Earlier in the book, Amir mentions all kinds of
American influences in Kabul: movies, cars, bikes, jeans, and cowboy hats. Now, when he returns, he
finds – SYMBOL ALERT! – a half-legible Coca Cola sign. American influence is in the process of
disappearing. (CHAPTER 20)
“We found the new orphanage in the northern part of Karteh-Seh, along the banks of the dried-up
Kabul River. It was a flat, barracks-style building with splintered walls and windows boarded with
planks of wood. Farid had told me on the way there that Karteh-Seh had been one of the most war-
ravaged neighbourhoods in Kabul, and, as we stepped out of the truck, the evidence was
overwhelming. The cratered streets were flanked by little more than ruins of shelled buildings and
abandoned homes. We passed the rusted skeleton of an overturned car, a TV set with no screen half-
buried in rubble, a wall with the words ZENDA BAD TALIBAN! (Long live the Taliban!) sprayed in
black. (20.68)”
War's influence is everywhere. Even the orphanage has turned into a "barracks-style building."
Nobody's living in the homes in Karteh-Seh either. Perhaps most telling, though, is the smashed TV
near the wall with "Long live the Taliban!" spray-painted on it. In the book, TVs are markers of
prosperity and American influence. Amir promises Hassan he'll buy him a TV when they grow up;
Amir also tells Sohrab American TVs have 500 channels. But here's a TV, smashed, and near graffiti
promoting a totalitarian regime. (CHAPTER 20)
“I saw a dead body near the restaurant. There had been a hanging. A young man dangled from the
end of a rope tied to a beam, his face puffy and blue, the clothes he'd worn on the last day of his life
shredded, bloody. Hardly anyone seemed to notice him. (21.2)”
This is a smart move by Hosseini. Now that he's accustomed his readers to the devastation of war in
the previous chapter, he casually introduces a shocking image. We think most readers will pause
here and say, "Gosh, this is really awful," and then move on because that's what Hosseini does.
Hosseini knows his readers, like the Afghani citizens, are getting used to horror.
Soon after the attacks, America bombed Afghanistan, the Northern Alliance moved in, and the
Taliban scurried like rats into the caves. Suddenly, people were standing in grocery store lines and
talking about the cities of my childhood, Kandahar, Herat, Mazar-i-Sharif. When I was very little,
Baba took Hassan and me to Kunduz. I don't remember much about the trip, except sitting in the
shade of an acacia tree with Baba and Hassan, taking turns sipping fresh watermelon juice from a
clay pot and seeing who could spit the seeds farther. Now Dan Rather, Tom Brokaw, and people
sipping lattes at Starbucks were talking about the battle for Kunduz, the Taliban's last stronghold in
the north. That December, Pashtuns, Tajiks, Uzbeks, and Hazaras gathered in Bonn and, under the
watchful eye of the UN, began the process that might someday end over twenty years of
unhappiness in their watan. Hamid Karzai's caracul hat and green chapan became famous. (25.106)
Before September 11, 2001 most Americans probably said things like Afghani-what? Now, Amir
hears about his homeland (or, for those of you keeping track of the Dari language in the book, his
watan) in Starbucks and in grocery stories. It has got to be weird. Just imagine that your hometown –
for whatever reason – suddenly attracts (inter)national media coverage. People like Dan Rather are
talking about the park where you used to picnic, strangers weigh in on the strategic advantage of the
hill where you used to sled. Well, it wouldn't be exactly like that because Afghanistan is a lot bigger
than your hometown. But you get the idea.
Jadeh Maywand is a big avenue in Kabul where kite shops used to sell their wares. Now, after years
of fighting, it's been turned into rubble. Really, into dust ("a giant sand castle"). But something else
here caught our attention. Yep, the bullet-pocked sign. Earlier in the book, Amir mentions all kinds of
American influences in Kabul: movies, cars, bikes, jeans, and cowboy hats. Now, when he returns, he
finds – SYMBOL ALERT! – a half-legible Coca Cola sign. American influence is in the process of
disappearing. (CHAPTER 20)
“We found the new orphanage in the northern part of Karteh-Seh, along the banks of the dried-up
Kabul River. It was a flat, barracks-style building with splintered walls and windows boarded with
planks of wood. Farid had told me on the way there that Karteh-Seh had been one of the most war-
ravaged neighbourhoods in Kabul, and, as we stepped out of the truck, the evidence was
overwhelming. The cratered streets were flanked by little more than ruins of shelled buildings and
abandoned homes. We passed the rusted skeleton of an overturned car, a TV set with no screen half-
buried in rubble, a wall with the words ZENDA BAD TALIBAN! (Long live the Taliban!) sprayed in
black. (20.68)”
War's influence is everywhere. Even the orphanage has turned into a "barracks-style building."
Nobody's living in the homes in Karteh-Seh either. Perhaps most telling, though, is the smashed TV
near the wall with "Long live the Taliban!" spray-painted on it. In the book, TVs are markers of
prosperity and American influence. Amir promises Hassan he'll buy him a TV when they grow up;
Amir also tells Sohrab American TVs have 500 channels. But here's a TV, smashed, and near graffiti
promoting a totalitarian regime. (CHAPTER 20)
“I saw a dead body near the restaurant. There had been a hanging. A young man dangled from the
end of a rope tied to a beam, his face puffy and blue, the clothes he'd worn on the last day of his life
shredded, bloody. Hardly anyone seemed to notice him. (21.2)”
This is a smart move by Hosseini. Now that he's accustomed his readers to the devastation of war in
the previous chapter, he casually introduces a shocking image. We think most readers will pause
here and say, "Gosh, this is really awful," and then move on because that's what Hosseini does.
Hosseini knows his readers, like the Afghani citizens, are getting used to horror.
Soon after the attacks, America bombed Afghanistan, the Northern Alliance moved in, and the
Taliban scurried like rats into the caves. Suddenly, people were standing in grocery store lines and
talking about the cities of my childhood, Kandahar, Herat, Mazar-i-Sharif. When I was very little,
Baba took Hassan and me to Kunduz. I don't remember much about the trip, except sitting in the
shade of an acacia tree with Baba and Hassan, taking turns sipping fresh watermelon juice from a
clay pot and seeing who could spit the seeds farther. Now Dan Rather, Tom Brokaw, and people
sipping lattes at Starbucks were talking about the battle for Kunduz, the Taliban's last stronghold in
the north. That December, Pashtuns, Tajiks, Uzbeks, and Hazaras gathered in Bonn and, under the
watchful eye of the UN, began the process that might someday end over twenty years of
unhappiness in their watan. Hamid Karzai's caracul hat and green chapan became famous. (25.106)
Before September 11, 2001 most Americans probably said things like Afghani-what? Now, Amir
hears about his homeland (or, for those of you keeping track of the Dari language in the book, his
watan) in Starbucks and in grocery stories. It has got to be weird. Just imagine that your hometown –
for whatever reason – suddenly attracts (inter)national media coverage. People like Dan Rather are
talking about the park where you used to picnic, strangers weigh in on the strategic advantage of the
hill where you used to sled. Well, it wouldn't be exactly like that because Afghanistan is a lot bigger
than your hometown. But you get the idea.
CODEY CARTLEDGE: ENGLISH: THE KITE RUNNER: TRUDI:
PRINCIPLE:
It's one thing if your father is a principled man. That's all well and good. We mean, morality is kind of
important, right? But what if your father isn't just any man? What if he's a legend, a myth, someone
with such force of personality you cower at his very approach? His principles will probably seem like
divine mandates, or something. We know we've asked you to imagine a lot. But now imagine that
you disregard one of your father's most valued principles. You're crazy with regret. Such an action
leads to guilt. It leads to a crash in the Stock Market of Self-Worth. This is pretty much what happens
in The Kite Runner.
Questions About Principles:
1. Describe Amir at the end of the novel. Does Amir believe in all of his father's principles? Has
he abandoned a few? Which ones does he hold sacred? Does Amir develop his own set of
principles?
2. Does someone like Assef have principles, too?
3. At times, Baba expresses some fairly strong views about honour and pride. But he also
seems dismissive of the conservative Mullah at Amir's school. Is Baba a freethinking liberal
or a conservative moralist? Does place matter in this question? Meaning, is Baba a
freethinking liberal in Afghanistan but a conservative moralist in California?
4. Does someone as pure-hearted as Hassan even need principles? Are principles much more
useful to flawed men like Baba and Amir?
QUOTES:
“With me as the glaring exception, my father moulded the world around him to his liking. The
problem, of course, was that Baba saw the world in black and white. And he got to decide what was
black and what was white. You can't love a person who lives that way without fearing him too.
Maybe even hating him a little. (3.12)”
A later description reads: "[...] Baba had been such an unusual Afghan father, a liberal who had lived
by his own rules, a maverick who had disregarded or embraced societal customs as he had seen fit"
(13.97). Is Amir even describing the same person – can someone both see the world in black and
white and be a liberal maverick? At first, Baba might seem just like Amir's teacher, Mullah Fatiullah
Khan, whom Baba criticizes for being self-righteous and stodgy. Don't those adjectives describe
someone with a black and white approach? The difference, however, is that Baba chooses his
principles. ("[A] maverick who had disregarded or embraced societal customs as he had seen fit.")
Which makes the character of Baba both a freethinker and an old-fashioned moralist. It's enough to
make Amir's head spin. (CHAPTER 3)
"Good," Baba said, but his eyes wondered. "Now, no matter what the mullah teaches, there is only
one sin, only one. And that is theft. Every other sin is a variation of theft. Do you understand that?"
"No, Baba jan," I said, desperately wishing I did. I didn't want to disappoint him again. [...]
"When you kill a man, you steal a life," Baba said. "You steal his wife's right to a husband, rob his
children of a father. When you tell a lie, you steal someone's right to the truth. When you cheat, you
steal the right to fairness. Do you see?" [...]
"There is no act more wretched than stealing, Amir," Baba said. "A man who takes what's not his to
take, be it a life or a loaf of naan...I spit on such a man. And if I ever cross paths with him, God help
him. Do you understand?" (3.29-34)”
PRINCIPLE:
It's one thing if your father is a principled man. That's all well and good. We mean, morality is kind of
important, right? But what if your father isn't just any man? What if he's a legend, a myth, someone
with such force of personality you cower at his very approach? His principles will probably seem like
divine mandates, or something. We know we've asked you to imagine a lot. But now imagine that
you disregard one of your father's most valued principles. You're crazy with regret. Such an action
leads to guilt. It leads to a crash in the Stock Market of Self-Worth. This is pretty much what happens
in The Kite Runner.
Questions About Principles:
1. Describe Amir at the end of the novel. Does Amir believe in all of his father's principles? Has
he abandoned a few? Which ones does he hold sacred? Does Amir develop his own set of
principles?
2. Does someone like Assef have principles, too?
3. At times, Baba expresses some fairly strong views about honour and pride. But he also
seems dismissive of the conservative Mullah at Amir's school. Is Baba a freethinking liberal
or a conservative moralist? Does place matter in this question? Meaning, is Baba a
freethinking liberal in Afghanistan but a conservative moralist in California?
4. Does someone as pure-hearted as Hassan even need principles? Are principles much more
useful to flawed men like Baba and Amir?
QUOTES:
“With me as the glaring exception, my father moulded the world around him to his liking. The
problem, of course, was that Baba saw the world in black and white. And he got to decide what was
black and what was white. You can't love a person who lives that way without fearing him too.
Maybe even hating him a little. (3.12)”
A later description reads: "[...] Baba had been such an unusual Afghan father, a liberal who had lived
by his own rules, a maverick who had disregarded or embraced societal customs as he had seen fit"
(13.97). Is Amir even describing the same person – can someone both see the world in black and
white and be a liberal maverick? At first, Baba might seem just like Amir's teacher, Mullah Fatiullah
Khan, whom Baba criticizes for being self-righteous and stodgy. Don't those adjectives describe
someone with a black and white approach? The difference, however, is that Baba chooses his
principles. ("[A] maverick who had disregarded or embraced societal customs as he had seen fit.")
Which makes the character of Baba both a freethinker and an old-fashioned moralist. It's enough to
make Amir's head spin. (CHAPTER 3)
"Good," Baba said, but his eyes wondered. "Now, no matter what the mullah teaches, there is only
one sin, only one. And that is theft. Every other sin is a variation of theft. Do you understand that?"
"No, Baba jan," I said, desperately wishing I did. I didn't want to disappoint him again. [...]
"When you kill a man, you steal a life," Baba said. "You steal his wife's right to a husband, rob his
children of a father. When you tell a lie, you steal someone's right to the truth. When you cheat, you
steal the right to fairness. Do you see?" [...]
"There is no act more wretched than stealing, Amir," Baba said. "A man who takes what's not his to
take, be it a life or a loaf of naan...I spit on such a man. And if I ever cross paths with him, God help
him. Do you understand?" (3.29-34)”
CODEY CARTLEDGE: ENGLISH: THE KITE RUNNER: TRUDI:
As Amir tells us about his father, a portrait of an immensely likable, dominant, and moral man
emerges. To Amir, Baba is both larger-than-life and principled. The combination of these two
qualities magnifies Amir's shame when he abandons Hassan in the alleyway. How could you ever tell
a man who supposedly wrestled a bear that you broke one of his principles? That you allowed Assef
to steal Hassan's innocence and childhood? Of course, all this is complicated by the fact that Baba –
before Amir was born – stole Ali's honour. With that in mind, Baba's bit of advice to Amir contains a
good deal of self-loathing. (CHAPTER 3)
“I heard the leather of Baba's seat creaking as he shifted on it. I closed my eyes, pressed my ear even
harder against the door, wanting to hear, not wanting to hear. [Baba:] "Sometimes I look out this
window and I see him playing on the street with the neighborhood boys. I see how they push him
around, take his toys from him, give him a shove here, a whack there. And, you know, he never fights
back. Never. He just...drops his head and..."
"So he's not violent," Rahim Khan said.
"That's not what I mean, Rahim, and you know it," Baba shot back. "There is something missing in
that boy."
[Rahim Khan:] "Yes, a mean streak."
[Baba:] "Self-defense has nothing to do with meanness. You know what always happens when the
neighborhood boys tease him? Hassan steps in and fends them off. I've seen it with my own eyes.
And when they come home, I say to him, 'How did Hassan get that scrape on his face?' And he says,
'He fell down.' I'm telling you, Rahim, there is something missing in that boy."
"You just need to let him find his way," Rahim Khan said.
"And where is he headed?" Baba said. "A boy who won't stand up for himself becomes a man who
can't stand up to anything." (3.60-66)”
Hosseini, you and your irony. Baba complains to Rahim Khan about Amir. According to Baba, Amir
never stands up for himself; he always lets Hassan defend him. And someone who can't stand up for
himself can't stand up for a friend, or his principles, or anything. Amir overhears Baba's little speech
and it hurts him deeply. But the irony comes into focus later when Amir watches Assef rape Hassan
and doesn't intervene. So Amir secretly listens to his father criticize the betrayal he will later secretly
commit. Irony and foreshadowing at the same time. It's like a party or something. (CHAPTER 3)
“That was when Baba stood up. It was my turn to clamp a hand on his thigh, but Baba pried it loose,
snatched his leg away. When he stood, he eclipsed the moonlight. "I want you to ask this man
something," Baba said. He said it to Karim, but looked directly at the Russian officer. "Ask him where
his shame is." They spoke. "He says this is war. There is no shame in war."
"Tell him he's wrong. War doesn't negate decency. It demands it, even more than in times of peace."
(10.18-20)”
Well, when a man eclipses the moonlight, you should listen. Notice how Amir doesn't listen, though.
An Afghan woman is about to be raped and Amir tries to stop Baba from standing up to the Russian
officer. Remind you of something Amir does (or doesn't do) in an earlier chapter? Baba's actions,
honorable as they are, must compound Amir's guilt. His father does exactly what Amir failed to do.
Amir even tries to stop his father – as if some unconscious part of him wants his father, and the
others in the truck, to share his guilt instead of magnifying it. (CHAPTER 10)
As Amir tells us about his father, a portrait of an immensely likable, dominant, and moral man
emerges. To Amir, Baba is both larger-than-life and principled. The combination of these two
qualities magnifies Amir's shame when he abandons Hassan in the alleyway. How could you ever tell
a man who supposedly wrestled a bear that you broke one of his principles? That you allowed Assef
to steal Hassan's innocence and childhood? Of course, all this is complicated by the fact that Baba –
before Amir was born – stole Ali's honour. With that in mind, Baba's bit of advice to Amir contains a
good deal of self-loathing. (CHAPTER 3)
“I heard the leather of Baba's seat creaking as he shifted on it. I closed my eyes, pressed my ear even
harder against the door, wanting to hear, not wanting to hear. [Baba:] "Sometimes I look out this
window and I see him playing on the street with the neighborhood boys. I see how they push him
around, take his toys from him, give him a shove here, a whack there. And, you know, he never fights
back. Never. He just...drops his head and..."
"So he's not violent," Rahim Khan said.
"That's not what I mean, Rahim, and you know it," Baba shot back. "There is something missing in
that boy."
[Rahim Khan:] "Yes, a mean streak."
[Baba:] "Self-defense has nothing to do with meanness. You know what always happens when the
neighborhood boys tease him? Hassan steps in and fends them off. I've seen it with my own eyes.
And when they come home, I say to him, 'How did Hassan get that scrape on his face?' And he says,
'He fell down.' I'm telling you, Rahim, there is something missing in that boy."
"You just need to let him find his way," Rahim Khan said.
"And where is he headed?" Baba said. "A boy who won't stand up for himself becomes a man who
can't stand up to anything." (3.60-66)”
Hosseini, you and your irony. Baba complains to Rahim Khan about Amir. According to Baba, Amir
never stands up for himself; he always lets Hassan defend him. And someone who can't stand up for
himself can't stand up for a friend, or his principles, or anything. Amir overhears Baba's little speech
and it hurts him deeply. But the irony comes into focus later when Amir watches Assef rape Hassan
and doesn't intervene. So Amir secretly listens to his father criticize the betrayal he will later secretly
commit. Irony and foreshadowing at the same time. It's like a party or something. (CHAPTER 3)
“That was when Baba stood up. It was my turn to clamp a hand on his thigh, but Baba pried it loose,
snatched his leg away. When he stood, he eclipsed the moonlight. "I want you to ask this man
something," Baba said. He said it to Karim, but looked directly at the Russian officer. "Ask him where
his shame is." They spoke. "He says this is war. There is no shame in war."
"Tell him he's wrong. War doesn't negate decency. It demands it, even more than in times of peace."
(10.18-20)”
Well, when a man eclipses the moonlight, you should listen. Notice how Amir doesn't listen, though.
An Afghan woman is about to be raped and Amir tries to stop Baba from standing up to the Russian
officer. Remind you of something Amir does (or doesn't do) in an earlier chapter? Baba's actions,
honorable as they are, must compound Amir's guilt. His father does exactly what Amir failed to do.
Amir even tries to stop his father – as if some unconscious part of him wants his father, and the
others in the truck, to share his guilt instead of magnifying it. (CHAPTER 10)
CODEY CARTLEDGE: ENGLISH: THE KITE RUNNER: TRUDI:
“The same day he was hired, Baba and I went to our eligibility officer in San Jose, Mrs. Dobbins. She
was an overweight black woman with twinkling eyes and a dimpled smile. She'd told me once that
she sang in church, and I believed her – she had a voice that made me think of warm milk and honey.
Baba dropped the stack of food stamps on her desk. "Thank you but I don't want," Baba said. "I work
always. In Afghanistan I work, in America I work. Thank you very much, Mrs. Dobbins, but I don't like
it free money."
Mrs. Dobbins blinked. Picked up the food stamps, looked from me to Baba like we were pulling a
prank, or "slipping her a trick" as Hassan used to say. "Fifteen years I been doin' this job and nobody's
ever done this," she said. And that was how Baba ended those humiliating food stamp moments at
the cash register and alleviated one of his greatest fears: that an Afghan would see him buying food
with charity money. Baba walked out of the welfare office like a man cured of a tumour. (11.29-30)”
Even in America, where Amir finally sees a more human side of Baba since they struggle to make
ends meet, Baba never wavers in his principles. One of which, it seems, is to not be on welfare. This
probably comes from Baba's strong sense of independence and self-sufficiency. This episode with
the welfare eligibility officer makes Rahim Khan's revelation of Baba's affair with Sanaubar all the
more surprising. Baba seems ready to sacrifice his comfort (here) and even his life (with the Russian
soldier above) for the principle of honour (nang). So, how could Baba betray Ali? And how could
Baba literally live with his betrayal (since he keeps Hassan around)? (CHAPTER 11)
“[Soraya:] "I heard you write."
How did she know? I wondered if her father had told her, maybe she had asked him. I immediately
dismissed both scenarios as absurd. Fathers and sons could talk freely about women. But no Afghan
girl – no decent and mohtaram Afghan girl, at least – queried her father about a young man. And no
father, especially a Pashtun with nang and namoos, would discuss a mojarad with his daughter, not
unless the fellow in question was a khastegar, a suitor, who had done the honorable thing and sent
his father to knock on the door. (12.40-41)”
OK, so you probably need some translations here. Mohtaram means "respected." A mojarad is a
single man. Nang and namoos mean "honor" and "pride," respectively. And, though you can probably
figure this one out, a khastegar is a suitor.”
Now we can get down to business. The Kite Runner is obsessed with the practice of one's principles.
We think you can divide the book's principles into two categories: ethical principles and traditional
principles. "You shouldn't betray your best friend (and half-brother)" is an ethical principle. "Afghan
girls shouldn't talk with their fathers about datable single men" would be a traditional principle. We
can all agree with the ethical principles in the book, but the traditional principles espoused by
characters like Baba and the General sometimes seem slightly sexist or racist. Part of Amir's difficulty
in the book is that he has to navigate between ethical principles and traditional principles. These two
come into conflict more than you might think. Consider, for example, the complexities of ethnicity in
the book. An ethical principle might be to love your half-brother. A traditional principle might be –
according to Assef and the General and lots of Pashtuns – to treat Hazaras as inferiors. It's got to be
quite confusing for Amir at times. (CHAPTER 12)
“The same day he was hired, Baba and I went to our eligibility officer in San Jose, Mrs. Dobbins. She
was an overweight black woman with twinkling eyes and a dimpled smile. She'd told me once that
she sang in church, and I believed her – she had a voice that made me think of warm milk and honey.
Baba dropped the stack of food stamps on her desk. "Thank you but I don't want," Baba said. "I work
always. In Afghanistan I work, in America I work. Thank you very much, Mrs. Dobbins, but I don't like
it free money."
Mrs. Dobbins blinked. Picked up the food stamps, looked from me to Baba like we were pulling a
prank, or "slipping her a trick" as Hassan used to say. "Fifteen years I been doin' this job and nobody's
ever done this," she said. And that was how Baba ended those humiliating food stamp moments at
the cash register and alleviated one of his greatest fears: that an Afghan would see him buying food
with charity money. Baba walked out of the welfare office like a man cured of a tumour. (11.29-30)”
Even in America, where Amir finally sees a more human side of Baba since they struggle to make
ends meet, Baba never wavers in his principles. One of which, it seems, is to not be on welfare. This
probably comes from Baba's strong sense of independence and self-sufficiency. This episode with
the welfare eligibility officer makes Rahim Khan's revelation of Baba's affair with Sanaubar all the
more surprising. Baba seems ready to sacrifice his comfort (here) and even his life (with the Russian
soldier above) for the principle of honour (nang). So, how could Baba betray Ali? And how could
Baba literally live with his betrayal (since he keeps Hassan around)? (CHAPTER 11)
“[Soraya:] "I heard you write."
How did she know? I wondered if her father had told her, maybe she had asked him. I immediately
dismissed both scenarios as absurd. Fathers and sons could talk freely about women. But no Afghan
girl – no decent and mohtaram Afghan girl, at least – queried her father about a young man. And no
father, especially a Pashtun with nang and namoos, would discuss a mojarad with his daughter, not
unless the fellow in question was a khastegar, a suitor, who had done the honorable thing and sent
his father to knock on the door. (12.40-41)”
OK, so you probably need some translations here. Mohtaram means "respected." A mojarad is a
single man. Nang and namoos mean "honor" and "pride," respectively. And, though you can probably
figure this one out, a khastegar is a suitor.”
Now we can get down to business. The Kite Runner is obsessed with the practice of one's principles.
We think you can divide the book's principles into two categories: ethical principles and traditional
principles. "You shouldn't betray your best friend (and half-brother)" is an ethical principle. "Afghan
girls shouldn't talk with their fathers about datable single men" would be a traditional principle. We
can all agree with the ethical principles in the book, but the traditional principles espoused by
characters like Baba and the General sometimes seem slightly sexist or racist. Part of Amir's difficulty
in the book is that he has to navigate between ethical principles and traditional principles. These two
come into conflict more than you might think. Consider, for example, the complexities of ethnicity in
the book. An ethical principle might be to love your half-brother. A traditional principle might be –
according to Assef and the General and lots of Pashtuns – to treat Hazaras as inferiors. It's got to be
quite confusing for Amir at times. (CHAPTER 12)
CODEY CARTLEDGE: ENGLISH: THE KITE RUNNER: TRUDI:
“[Soraya:] "Their sons go out to nightclubs looking for meat and get their girlfriends pregnant, they
have kids out of wedlock and no one says a goddamn thing. Oh, they're just men having fun! I make
one mistake and suddenly everyone is talking nang and namoos, and I have to have my face rubbed
in it for the rest of my life." (13.86)”
Soraya slams Afghan culture for its double-standard with men and women. Men can go out to the
club and have sex; women can't even have sex with a long-term boyfriend. We would also like to
point out that Baba has a double-standard. He criticizes Amir for not standing up to the
neighbourhood boys. Well, how did Hassan get into this world? Baba had an affair with Ali's wife.
That doesn't really count as standing up for your friend.
"I didn't tell you," Soraya said, dabbing at her eyes, "but my father showed up with a gun that night.
He told...him...that he had two bullets in the chamber, one for him and one for himself if I didn't
come home. I was screaming, calling my father all kinds of names, saying he couldn't keep me locked
up forever, that I wished he were dead." Fresh tears squeezed out between her lids. "I actually said
that to him, that I wished he were dead." (13.88)
Wow. General Taheri shows up one night to his daughter's apartment because she's been living with
an Afghan man. We guess it's obvious from this passage how important honour is to General Taheri.
He's willing to kill both himself and Soraya's boyfriend to save not only her honour but his own.
(CHAPTER 13)
"You know," Rahim Khan said, "one time, when you weren't around, your father and I were talking.
And you know how he always worried about you in those days. I remember he said to me, 'Rahim, a
boy who won't stand up for himself becomes a man who can't stand up to anything.' I wonder, is that
what you've become?" (17.34)
Rahim Khan has just asked Amir to rescue Sohrab from Kabul. Amir is initially resistant, so Rahim
Khan tries three times to convince Amir to undertake the task. (The task is obviously a redemptive
quest because there's no reason Amir has to rescue Sohrab. Rahim Khan tells Amir he has enough
money to get Sohrab, so it seems like anyone could have performed this task.) Anyway, Rahim Khan
gives Amir three reasons why he should rescue Sohrab. One, because your father thought you
couldn't stand up for anything and here's your chance to prove him wrong. Second, it's my dying
wish that you rescue Sohrab. And third, Hassan was actually your half-brother, so you owe it to him.
We think all these reasons add up and Amir agrees to rescue Sohrab. Of course, the third reason
seals the deal, but they're all important and end up motivating Amir. (CHAPTER 17)
“How could he have lied to me all those years? To Hassan? He had sat me on his lap when I was little,
looked me straight in the eyes, and said, There is only one sin. And that is theft... When you tell a lie,
you steal someone's right to the truth. Hadn't he said those words to me? And now, fifteen years
after I'd buried him, I was learning that Baba had been a thief. And a thief of the worst kind, because
the things he'd stolen had been sacred: from me the right to know I had a brother, from Hassan his
identity, and from Ali his honour. His nang. His namoos. (18.5)”
Amir's guilt, all these years, has partly resulted from Baba's very strict adherence to a personal code.
Baba's set of principles include honour (nang), pride (namoos), and loyalty. Now Amir finds out the
following: not only did Baba "steal" Ali's honour and pride, but he stole a sense of self from Hassan,
and a brother from Amir. What are you supposed to do when you find out the single most important
figure of authority and morality in your life strayed from his principles? That's right, go on a personal
quest of redemption to rescue your half-nephew from a sadistic, Mein Kampf-toting member of the
Taliban. (CHAPTER 18)
“[Soraya:] "Their sons go out to nightclubs looking for meat and get their girlfriends pregnant, they
have kids out of wedlock and no one says a goddamn thing. Oh, they're just men having fun! I make
one mistake and suddenly everyone is talking nang and namoos, and I have to have my face rubbed
in it for the rest of my life." (13.86)”
Soraya slams Afghan culture for its double-standard with men and women. Men can go out to the
club and have sex; women can't even have sex with a long-term boyfriend. We would also like to
point out that Baba has a double-standard. He criticizes Amir for not standing up to the
neighbourhood boys. Well, how did Hassan get into this world? Baba had an affair with Ali's wife.
That doesn't really count as standing up for your friend.
"I didn't tell you," Soraya said, dabbing at her eyes, "but my father showed up with a gun that night.
He told...him...that he had two bullets in the chamber, one for him and one for himself if I didn't
come home. I was screaming, calling my father all kinds of names, saying he couldn't keep me locked
up forever, that I wished he were dead." Fresh tears squeezed out between her lids. "I actually said
that to him, that I wished he were dead." (13.88)
Wow. General Taheri shows up one night to his daughter's apartment because she's been living with
an Afghan man. We guess it's obvious from this passage how important honour is to General Taheri.
He's willing to kill both himself and Soraya's boyfriend to save not only her honour but his own.
(CHAPTER 13)
"You know," Rahim Khan said, "one time, when you weren't around, your father and I were talking.
And you know how he always worried about you in those days. I remember he said to me, 'Rahim, a
boy who won't stand up for himself becomes a man who can't stand up to anything.' I wonder, is that
what you've become?" (17.34)
Rahim Khan has just asked Amir to rescue Sohrab from Kabul. Amir is initially resistant, so Rahim
Khan tries three times to convince Amir to undertake the task. (The task is obviously a redemptive
quest because there's no reason Amir has to rescue Sohrab. Rahim Khan tells Amir he has enough
money to get Sohrab, so it seems like anyone could have performed this task.) Anyway, Rahim Khan
gives Amir three reasons why he should rescue Sohrab. One, because your father thought you
couldn't stand up for anything and here's your chance to prove him wrong. Second, it's my dying
wish that you rescue Sohrab. And third, Hassan was actually your half-brother, so you owe it to him.
We think all these reasons add up and Amir agrees to rescue Sohrab. Of course, the third reason
seals the deal, but they're all important and end up motivating Amir. (CHAPTER 17)
“How could he have lied to me all those years? To Hassan? He had sat me on his lap when I was little,
looked me straight in the eyes, and said, There is only one sin. And that is theft... When you tell a lie,
you steal someone's right to the truth. Hadn't he said those words to me? And now, fifteen years
after I'd buried him, I was learning that Baba had been a thief. And a thief of the worst kind, because
the things he'd stolen had been sacred: from me the right to know I had a brother, from Hassan his
identity, and from Ali his honour. His nang. His namoos. (18.5)”
Amir's guilt, all these years, has partly resulted from Baba's very strict adherence to a personal code.
Baba's set of principles include honour (nang), pride (namoos), and loyalty. Now Amir finds out the
following: not only did Baba "steal" Ali's honour and pride, but he stole a sense of self from Hassan,
and a brother from Amir. What are you supposed to do when you find out the single most important
figure of authority and morality in your life strayed from his principles? That's right, go on a personal
quest of redemption to rescue your half-nephew from a sadistic, Mein Kampf-toting member of the
Taliban. (CHAPTER 18)
CODEY CARTLEDGE: ENGLISH: THE KITE RUNNER: TRUDI:
MASCULINITY:
There aren't a lot of women in The Kite Runner. In fact, Hosseini really only spends time with two
women: the protagonist's wife and mother-in-law. Further, our protagonist grows up in a household
full of men, and his father embodies a robust masculinity (honour and brute strength and all that).
One problem: the protagonist in The Kite Runner doesn't conform to traditional model of manhood.
The novel asks some tough questions about what it really means to be an Afghan man – or a man in
general – and ultimately embraces some ideas of traditional manliness.
Questions About Men and Masculinity:
1. Describe the women on the periphery of this novel: Amir's mother, Sanaubar, and Khanum
Taheri. Is Soraya different from these women? The same? Does Hosseini develop her
character more than these other women? If so, why?
2. Afghan's unofficial national sport is buzkashi, a game in which a skilled horseman rides
around with a goat or calf carcass and tries to drop it in a special scoring circle. The other
riders may kick and whip the rider with the carcass in order to stop him. Why does Baba
seem to love this sport? Why does it scare Amir? How does buzkashi embody the qualities
Baba often praises?
3. Rahim Khan, Baba's good friend, always seems to be around Amir's house. He's more or less
a part of the household. Does Rahim Khan offer Amir a different male role model? Is Rahim
Khan more "feminine" than Baba? Is this what attracts Amir to Rahim Khan?
4. What version of masculinity do characters like Ali and Hassan present? Do these characters
question or support Baba's version of masculinity?
5. In the end, what definition or model of masculinity does The Kite Runner embrace?
QUOTES:
“It was Rahim Khan who first referred to him as what eventually became Baba's famous nickname,
Toophan agha, or "Mr. Hurricane." It was an apt enough nickname. My father was a force of nature,
a towering Pashtun specimen with a thick beard, a wayward crop of curly brown hair as unruly as the
man himself, hands that looked capable of uprooting a willow tree, and a black glare that would
"drop the devil to his knees begging for mercy," as Rahim Khan used to say. At parties, when all six-
foot-five of him thundered into the room, attention shifted to him like sunflowers turning to the sun.
(3.2)”
It's safe to say that in the novel – at least for Amir – masculinity and Baba are inextricably
intertwined. Baba is what it means to be an Afghan man. Here, Amir recounts the utter presence of
his father: a huge man with thick hair and a ferocious glare. But we at Shmoop – at least our
psychiatry division – think there might be a tiny problem with Amir's picture of his father. This is the
stuff of mythology: Amir's father uproots trees and scares the devil. To what extent does Amir, by
mythologizing his father, mythologize masculinity? Does this make masculinity unattainable for
Amir? (CHAPTER 3)
MASCULINITY:
There aren't a lot of women in The Kite Runner. In fact, Hosseini really only spends time with two
women: the protagonist's wife and mother-in-law. Further, our protagonist grows up in a household
full of men, and his father embodies a robust masculinity (honour and brute strength and all that).
One problem: the protagonist in The Kite Runner doesn't conform to traditional model of manhood.
The novel asks some tough questions about what it really means to be an Afghan man – or a man in
general – and ultimately embraces some ideas of traditional manliness.
Questions About Men and Masculinity:
1. Describe the women on the periphery of this novel: Amir's mother, Sanaubar, and Khanum
Taheri. Is Soraya different from these women? The same? Does Hosseini develop her
character more than these other women? If so, why?
2. Afghan's unofficial national sport is buzkashi, a game in which a skilled horseman rides
around with a goat or calf carcass and tries to drop it in a special scoring circle. The other
riders may kick and whip the rider with the carcass in order to stop him. Why does Baba
seem to love this sport? Why does it scare Amir? How does buzkashi embody the qualities
Baba often praises?
3. Rahim Khan, Baba's good friend, always seems to be around Amir's house. He's more or less
a part of the household. Does Rahim Khan offer Amir a different male role model? Is Rahim
Khan more "feminine" than Baba? Is this what attracts Amir to Rahim Khan?
4. What version of masculinity do characters like Ali and Hassan present? Do these characters
question or support Baba's version of masculinity?
5. In the end, what definition or model of masculinity does The Kite Runner embrace?
QUOTES:
“It was Rahim Khan who first referred to him as what eventually became Baba's famous nickname,
Toophan agha, or "Mr. Hurricane." It was an apt enough nickname. My father was a force of nature,
a towering Pashtun specimen with a thick beard, a wayward crop of curly brown hair as unruly as the
man himself, hands that looked capable of uprooting a willow tree, and a black glare that would
"drop the devil to his knees begging for mercy," as Rahim Khan used to say. At parties, when all six-
foot-five of him thundered into the room, attention shifted to him like sunflowers turning to the sun.
(3.2)”
It's safe to say that in the novel – at least for Amir – masculinity and Baba are inextricably
intertwined. Baba is what it means to be an Afghan man. Here, Amir recounts the utter presence of
his father: a huge man with thick hair and a ferocious glare. But we at Shmoop – at least our
psychiatry division – think there might be a tiny problem with Amir's picture of his father. This is the
stuff of mythology: Amir's father uproots trees and scares the devil. To what extent does Amir, by
mythologizing his father, mythologize masculinity? Does this make masculinity unattainable for
Amir? (CHAPTER 3)
CODEY CARTLEDGE: ENGLISH: THE KITE RUNNER: TRUDI:
“Of course, marrying a poet was one thing, but fathering a son who preferred burying his face in
poetry books to hunting...well, that wasn't how Baba had envisioned it, I suppose. Real men didn't
read poetry – and God forbid they should ever write it! Real men – real boys – played soccer just as
Baba had when he had been young. [...]. He signed me up for soccer teams to stir the same passion in
me. But I was pathetic, a blundering liability to my own team, always in the way of an opportune
pass or unwittingly blocking an open lane. I shambled about the field on scraggly legs, squalled for
passes that never came my way. And the harder I tried, waving my arms over my head frantically and
screeching, "I'm open! I'm open!" the more I went ignored. (3.40)”
Amir isn't the masculine Pashtun Baba wanted. He isn't a sports-playing, bear-hunting man of a boy.
(Really, Baba wants someone like himself.) Said another way, Baba's dislikes Amir as a son. We might
question Baba's definition of manhood (what if you don't like sports?) but, as a boy, Amir doesn't
have that privilege. Baba is everything to him. Thus, Amir needs to acquire some manliness if he's
going to gain Baba's respect. This, of course, leads to disastrous consequences. (CHAPTER 3 )
“But at the moment, I watched with horror as one of the chapandaz fell off his saddle and was
trampled under a score of hooves. His body was tossed and hurled in the stampede like a rag doll,
finally rolling to a stop when the melee moved on. He twitched once and lay motionless, his legs bent
at unnatural angles, a pool of his blood soaking through the sand.
I began to cry.
I cried all the way back home. I remember how Baba's hands clenched around the steering wheel.
Clenched and unclenched. Mostly, I will never forget Baba's valiant efforts to conceal the disgusted
look on his face as he drove in silence. (3.45-47)”
Baba takes Amir to a Buzkashi tournament. In this sport, a skilled horseman (chapandaz) picks up a
goat carcass and tries to drop it into a special circle. The horseman does all this while being harassed
by other chapandaz. Sounds pretty gory, right? The chapandaz at this particular tournament is
trampled. And Amir cries on the way home, probably shocked by the violence of the sport. This
disgusts Baba. (Though, in an odd act of kindness, Baba tries to hide his disgust.) Amir learns his
lesson, right? Which is: If you want to be a man, don't cry and don't react to violence. This "lesson"
brings up an important question: How does Baba's practice of masculinity actually prevent Amir
from confessing his betrayal of Hassan? (CHAPTER 3)
“We saw our first Western together, Rio Bravo with John Wayne, at the Cinema Park, across the
street from my favourite bookstore. I remember begging Baba to take us to Iran so we could meet
John Wayne. (4.8)”
Have you noticed how many references there are in this novel to American films, especially
Westerns? The Western mythologizes its male heroes – they're unnaturally silent, strong, and they
accomplish ridiculous feats of endurance. No surprise, then, that Baba and Amir would share a love
of American Westerns. Baba because it affirms his brand of masculinity and Amir because it depicts
men like his father (men he wishes he could be like).
“Of course, marrying a poet was one thing, but fathering a son who preferred burying his face in
poetry books to hunting...well, that wasn't how Baba had envisioned it, I suppose. Real men didn't
read poetry – and God forbid they should ever write it! Real men – real boys – played soccer just as
Baba had when he had been young. [...]. He signed me up for soccer teams to stir the same passion in
me. But I was pathetic, a blundering liability to my own team, always in the way of an opportune
pass or unwittingly blocking an open lane. I shambled about the field on scraggly legs, squalled for
passes that never came my way. And the harder I tried, waving my arms over my head frantically and
screeching, "I'm open! I'm open!" the more I went ignored. (3.40)”
Amir isn't the masculine Pashtun Baba wanted. He isn't a sports-playing, bear-hunting man of a boy.
(Really, Baba wants someone like himself.) Said another way, Baba's dislikes Amir as a son. We might
question Baba's definition of manhood (what if you don't like sports?) but, as a boy, Amir doesn't
have that privilege. Baba is everything to him. Thus, Amir needs to acquire some manliness if he's
going to gain Baba's respect. This, of course, leads to disastrous consequences. (CHAPTER 3 )
“But at the moment, I watched with horror as one of the chapandaz fell off his saddle and was
trampled under a score of hooves. His body was tossed and hurled in the stampede like a rag doll,
finally rolling to a stop when the melee moved on. He twitched once and lay motionless, his legs bent
at unnatural angles, a pool of his blood soaking through the sand.
I began to cry.
I cried all the way back home. I remember how Baba's hands clenched around the steering wheel.
Clenched and unclenched. Mostly, I will never forget Baba's valiant efforts to conceal the disgusted
look on his face as he drove in silence. (3.45-47)”
Baba takes Amir to a Buzkashi tournament. In this sport, a skilled horseman (chapandaz) picks up a
goat carcass and tries to drop it into a special circle. The horseman does all this while being harassed
by other chapandaz. Sounds pretty gory, right? The chapandaz at this particular tournament is
trampled. And Amir cries on the way home, probably shocked by the violence of the sport. This
disgusts Baba. (Though, in an odd act of kindness, Baba tries to hide his disgust.) Amir learns his
lesson, right? Which is: If you want to be a man, don't cry and don't react to violence. This "lesson"
brings up an important question: How does Baba's practice of masculinity actually prevent Amir
from confessing his betrayal of Hassan? (CHAPTER 3)
“We saw our first Western together, Rio Bravo with John Wayne, at the Cinema Park, across the
street from my favourite bookstore. I remember begging Baba to take us to Iran so we could meet
John Wayne. (4.8)”
Have you noticed how many references there are in this novel to American films, especially
Westerns? The Western mythologizes its male heroes – they're unnaturally silent, strong, and they
accomplish ridiculous feats of endurance. No surprise, then, that Baba and Amir would share a love
of American Westerns. Baba because it affirms his brand of masculinity and Amir because it depicts
men like his father (men he wishes he could be like).
CODEY CARTLEDGE: ENGLISH: THE KITE RUNNER: TRUDI:
“Then, Baba and I drove off in his black Ford Mustang – a car that drew envious looks everywhere
because it was the same car Steve McQueen had driven in Bullitt, a film that played in one theatre for
six months. (4.10)”
This black Ford Mustang goes part and parcel with Baba's conception of manhood. (We can't help
but notice the touch of irony later when Baba gives Amir an American muscle car – a Gran Torino –
as a graduation present. The muscle car, once the hottest thing on the road, is actually eleven years
old by the time Baba gives it to Amir.) How does Hosseini mythologize Baba and other Afghan men
and simultaneously mock them? How does Amir, in his own life, diverge from his father's ideas of
masculinity? In what ways does he subscribe to them? (CHAPTER 4)
“I ran because I was a coward. I was afraid of Assef and what he would do to me. I was afraid of
getting hurt. That's what I told myself as I turned my back to the alley, to Hassan. That's what I made
myself believe. I actually aspired to cowardice, because the alternative, the real reason I was running,
was that Assef was right: Nothing was free in this world. Maybe Hassan was the price I had to pay,
the lamb I had to slay, to win Baba. Was it a fair price? The answer floated to my conscious mind
before I could thwart it: He was just a Hazara, wasn't he? (7.140)”
In this passage, Amir watches as Assef rapes Hassan. It's horrific and cruel. Somehow, Amir believes
he can win his father's love if he brings back the blue kite Hassan ran down. And he's right, to an
extent. Following his victory in the kite tournament, Amir and his father become closer than ever
before. But Amir is also tragically wrong. Amir ignores – by not defending Hassan – some of his
father's most cherished principles: honor, pride, and bravery. In order to seem like a man in his
father's eyes, Amir actually does the most shameful thing he could do: abandon (and later betray)
Hassan. (CHAPTER 7)
“Baba would enlighten me with his politics during those walks with long-winded dissertations. "There
are only three real men in this world, Amir," he'd say. He'd count them off on his fingers: America the
brash saviour, Britain, and Israel. "The rest of them – " he used to wave his hand and make a phht
sound " – they're like gossiping old women."
[...]. In Baba's view, Israel was an island of "real men" in a sea of Arabs too busy getting fat off their
oil to care for their own. "Israel does this, Israel does that," Baba would say in a mock-Arabic accent.
"Then do something about it! Take action. You're Arabs, help the Palestinians, then!" (11.3-4)”
Baba's ideas about masculinity even seep into his politics. America, Britain, and Israel are the only
real men in international politics because they take action instead of simply talk. Don't forget,
though, how Baba's life changes once he immigrates to America, one of the "masculine" countries.
He diminishes in stature; he's no longer throwing lavish parties and building orphanages, but instead
working long hours at a gas station. And what caused Baba to move to America? The Soviet Union
invades Afghanistan, which sounds like a country "taking action." The very qualities – and countries –
Baba praises actually ruin him. Is it possible for Hosseini to include any more irony in this novel?
(CHAPTER 11)
“What America and the world needed was a hard man. A man to be reckoned with, someone who
took action instead of wringing his hands. That someone came in the form of Ronald Reagan. And
when Reagan went on TV and called the Shorawi "the Evil Empire," Baba went out and bought a
picture of the grinning president giving a thumbs up. He framed the picture and hung it in our
hallway, nailing it right next to the old black-and-white of himself in his thin necktie shaking hands
with King Zahir Shah. (11.5)”
“Then, Baba and I drove off in his black Ford Mustang – a car that drew envious looks everywhere
because it was the same car Steve McQueen had driven in Bullitt, a film that played in one theatre for
six months. (4.10)”
This black Ford Mustang goes part and parcel with Baba's conception of manhood. (We can't help
but notice the touch of irony later when Baba gives Amir an American muscle car – a Gran Torino –
as a graduation present. The muscle car, once the hottest thing on the road, is actually eleven years
old by the time Baba gives it to Amir.) How does Hosseini mythologize Baba and other Afghan men
and simultaneously mock them? How does Amir, in his own life, diverge from his father's ideas of
masculinity? In what ways does he subscribe to them? (CHAPTER 4)
“I ran because I was a coward. I was afraid of Assef and what he would do to me. I was afraid of
getting hurt. That's what I told myself as I turned my back to the alley, to Hassan. That's what I made
myself believe. I actually aspired to cowardice, because the alternative, the real reason I was running,
was that Assef was right: Nothing was free in this world. Maybe Hassan was the price I had to pay,
the lamb I had to slay, to win Baba. Was it a fair price? The answer floated to my conscious mind
before I could thwart it: He was just a Hazara, wasn't he? (7.140)”
In this passage, Amir watches as Assef rapes Hassan. It's horrific and cruel. Somehow, Amir believes
he can win his father's love if he brings back the blue kite Hassan ran down. And he's right, to an
extent. Following his victory in the kite tournament, Amir and his father become closer than ever
before. But Amir is also tragically wrong. Amir ignores – by not defending Hassan – some of his
father's most cherished principles: honor, pride, and bravery. In order to seem like a man in his
father's eyes, Amir actually does the most shameful thing he could do: abandon (and later betray)
Hassan. (CHAPTER 7)
“Baba would enlighten me with his politics during those walks with long-winded dissertations. "There
are only three real men in this world, Amir," he'd say. He'd count them off on his fingers: America the
brash saviour, Britain, and Israel. "The rest of them – " he used to wave his hand and make a phht
sound " – they're like gossiping old women."
[...]. In Baba's view, Israel was an island of "real men" in a sea of Arabs too busy getting fat off their
oil to care for their own. "Israel does this, Israel does that," Baba would say in a mock-Arabic accent.
"Then do something about it! Take action. You're Arabs, help the Palestinians, then!" (11.3-4)”
Baba's ideas about masculinity even seep into his politics. America, Britain, and Israel are the only
real men in international politics because they take action instead of simply talk. Don't forget,
though, how Baba's life changes once he immigrates to America, one of the "masculine" countries.
He diminishes in stature; he's no longer throwing lavish parties and building orphanages, but instead
working long hours at a gas station. And what caused Baba to move to America? The Soviet Union
invades Afghanistan, which sounds like a country "taking action." The very qualities – and countries –
Baba praises actually ruin him. Is it possible for Hosseini to include any more irony in this novel?
(CHAPTER 11)
“What America and the world needed was a hard man. A man to be reckoned with, someone who
took action instead of wringing his hands. That someone came in the form of Ronald Reagan. And
when Reagan went on TV and called the Shorawi "the Evil Empire," Baba went out and bought a
picture of the grinning president giving a thumbs up. He framed the picture and hung it in our
hallway, nailing it right next to the old black-and-white of himself in his thin necktie shaking hands
with King Zahir Shah. (11.5)”
CODEY CARTLEDGE: ENGLISH: THE KITE RUNNER: TRUDI:
It's really no surprise Baba would love Ronald Regan. First off, Regan lets the Soviet Union have it.
This should please any Afghan who lived through the Shorawi invasion of 1979. But another aspect
of Regan might attract Baba. Regan, as a politician, drew on the American mythology of the West,
the gunslinger who sets things right. In his dress and demeanour, Regan reminded Americans of
John Wayne, the iconic star of the Western film. Reagan was even in a few Westerns during his
acting career. With Baba and Amir's diet of American movies in mind (action flicks, Westerns), Regan
must seem like the shining god of masculinity and honour. (CHAPTER 11)
"Remember this," Baba said, pointing at me, "The man is a Pashtun to the root. He has nang and
namoos." Nang. Namoos. Honour and pride. The tenets of Pashtun men. Especially when it came to
the chastity of a wife. Or a daughter. (12.11)”
Well, Baba gives you a pretty explicit definition of masculinity here: honour and pride. But we also
want to note – though honour and pride are generally good things – how nang and namoos affect
Afghan women. Meaning, how do Baba's (and General Taheri's) ideas about their own identity affect
their wives and daughters and daughter in-laws? Well, the idea here is that women need to be pure
for men. A man's honour is tied up in the purity of his wife and daughter. Granted, feminists would
have a field day with this one, but we also want to point out the irony (again!) of Baba's statement.
Didn't he steal Ali's honour by sleeping with Sanaubar? Did that act destroy Baba's honour, too, and
thus his masculinity? Are there any truly honourable men in this novel? Or are the honourable men
only in the movies Amir and Baba used to watch? (CHAPTER 12)
“I kissed her cheek and pulled away from the curb. As I drove, I wondered why I was different. Maybe
it was because I had been raised by men; I hadn't grown up around women and had never been
exposed first-hand to the double standard with which Afghan society sometimes treated them.
Maybe it was because Baba had been such an unusual Afghan father, a liberal who had lived by his
own rules, a maverick who had disregarded or embraced societal customs as he had seen fit. (13.97)”
Amir has just dropped off Soraya and wonders about the double standard women are subjected to
in Afghan society. It seems like it's OK for men to sleep around before marriage, but it's not OK for
women to do the same. (You have to wonder who the men think they're going to sleep with.) We
think this passage is important because it points out just how male Amir's household and upbringing
were. And since Amir betrays Hassan and is guilty of cowardice, he must have felt all the more
isolated in his household. In fact, it seems like Amir craves a feminine mentor in the Kabul house. He
reads all his mother's books and writes poetry instead of playing soccer or riding around on a horse
with a dead goat in tow.
It's really no surprise Baba would love Ronald Regan. First off, Regan lets the Soviet Union have it.
This should please any Afghan who lived through the Shorawi invasion of 1979. But another aspect
of Regan might attract Baba. Regan, as a politician, drew on the American mythology of the West,
the gunslinger who sets things right. In his dress and demeanour, Regan reminded Americans of
John Wayne, the iconic star of the Western film. Reagan was even in a few Westerns during his
acting career. With Baba and Amir's diet of American movies in mind (action flicks, Westerns), Regan
must seem like the shining god of masculinity and honour. (CHAPTER 11)
"Remember this," Baba said, pointing at me, "The man is a Pashtun to the root. He has nang and
namoos." Nang. Namoos. Honour and pride. The tenets of Pashtun men. Especially when it came to
the chastity of a wife. Or a daughter. (12.11)”
Well, Baba gives you a pretty explicit definition of masculinity here: honour and pride. But we also
want to note – though honour and pride are generally good things – how nang and namoos affect
Afghan women. Meaning, how do Baba's (and General Taheri's) ideas about their own identity affect
their wives and daughters and daughter in-laws? Well, the idea here is that women need to be pure
for men. A man's honour is tied up in the purity of his wife and daughter. Granted, feminists would
have a field day with this one, but we also want to point out the irony (again!) of Baba's statement.
Didn't he steal Ali's honour by sleeping with Sanaubar? Did that act destroy Baba's honour, too, and
thus his masculinity? Are there any truly honourable men in this novel? Or are the honourable men
only in the movies Amir and Baba used to watch? (CHAPTER 12)
“I kissed her cheek and pulled away from the curb. As I drove, I wondered why I was different. Maybe
it was because I had been raised by men; I hadn't grown up around women and had never been
exposed first-hand to the double standard with which Afghan society sometimes treated them.
Maybe it was because Baba had been such an unusual Afghan father, a liberal who had lived by his
own rules, a maverick who had disregarded or embraced societal customs as he had seen fit. (13.97)”
Amir has just dropped off Soraya and wonders about the double standard women are subjected to
in Afghan society. It seems like it's OK for men to sleep around before marriage, but it's not OK for
women to do the same. (You have to wonder who the men think they're going to sleep with.) We
think this passage is important because it points out just how male Amir's household and upbringing
were. And since Amir betrays Hassan and is guilty of cowardice, he must have felt all the more
isolated in his household. In fact, it seems like Amir craves a feminine mentor in the Kabul house. He
reads all his mother's books and writes poetry instead of playing soccer or riding around on a horse
with a dead goat in tow.
CODEY CARTLEDGE: ENGLISH: THE KITE RUNNER: TRUDI:
INNOCENCE:
Here's a very basic reduction of The Kite Runner's main plot and sub-plots: people lose their
innocence and try to regain it. In telling this story, Hosseini asks some major questions: Can we ever
regain our innocence? Can we redeem ourselves and others? Hosseini also draws a parallel between
the stories of individuals and the story of Afghanistan as a country. So, in a way, these same
questions apply to a war-torn region and people. As novelists like to do, Hosseini throws in some
complications. Some characters seem innocent no matter what. Others are fairly evil and could
probably kill a cute little butterfly just by looking at it. We wonder, then, if Hosseini's rubric of
redemption applies to everyone or just his characters caught between good and evil.
Questions About Innocence:
1. The character Soraya presents a fairly complex example of lost innocence. She moves in with
an Afghan man while in Virginia. Then, in a dramatic episode, her father "rescues" her from
her boyfriend. Now, most Afghan men won't date or marry Soraya because she's been with
another man. This doesn't bother Amir, however, and he promptly marries her. Was
Soraya's innocence ever really lost? How does one lose one's innocence in The Kite Runner?
2. Compare the descriptions of war-torn Kabul and the descriptions of Hassan after Assef rapes
him. How does Hosseini draw parallels between these two tragedies?
3. Assef describes his participation in the massacre of Hazaras at Mazar-i-Sharif: "You don't
know the meaning of the word 'liberating' until you've done that, stood in a roomful of
targets, let the bullets fly, free of guilt and remorse, knowing you are virtuous, good, and
decent" (22.24). Does a character like Assef even choose between good and evil? Could
Assef be innocent in ways Amir is not?
4. How does the character of Hassan remain pure and good even through tragedy and war?
Does Hassan just have some sort of basic goodness? Does Hosseini, through Hassan and Ali,
reclaim physical characteristics (the harelip, the limp) literature has traditionally associated
with evil or weakness?
QUOTES:
“We chased the Kochi, the nomads who passed through Kabul on their way to the mountains of the
north. We would hear their caravans approaching our neighborhood, the mewling of their sheep, the
baaing of their goats, the jingle of bells around their camels' necks. We'd run outside to watch the
caravan plod through our street, men with dusty, weather-beaten faces and women dressed in long,
colorful shawls, beads, and silver bracelets around their wrists and ankles. We hurled pebbles at their
goats. We squirted water on their mules. I'd make Hassan sit on the Wall of Ailing Corn and fire
pebbles with his slingshot at the camels' rears. (4.7)”
Is this from the movie My Girl or is it in a novel about betrayal and redemption? There's so much
innocence: cute little animals, magical caravans, and playful violence without any real consequences.
(Compare the violence here with the later blinding of Assef.) There is, however, an emerging
violence. Soon, Baba will sacrifice a lamb (notice the livestock here) for a Muslim holy day and Amir
will watch as Assef rapes Hassan. In that passage, Amir even compares Hassan's resignation to a
lamb's. For now, though, everything is peachy. (CHAPTER 4)
INNOCENCE:
Here's a very basic reduction of The Kite Runner's main plot and sub-plots: people lose their
innocence and try to regain it. In telling this story, Hosseini asks some major questions: Can we ever
regain our innocence? Can we redeem ourselves and others? Hosseini also draws a parallel between
the stories of individuals and the story of Afghanistan as a country. So, in a way, these same
questions apply to a war-torn region and people. As novelists like to do, Hosseini throws in some
complications. Some characters seem innocent no matter what. Others are fairly evil and could
probably kill a cute little butterfly just by looking at it. We wonder, then, if Hosseini's rubric of
redemption applies to everyone or just his characters caught between good and evil.
Questions About Innocence:
1. The character Soraya presents a fairly complex example of lost innocence. She moves in with
an Afghan man while in Virginia. Then, in a dramatic episode, her father "rescues" her from
her boyfriend. Now, most Afghan men won't date or marry Soraya because she's been with
another man. This doesn't bother Amir, however, and he promptly marries her. Was
Soraya's innocence ever really lost? How does one lose one's innocence in The Kite Runner?
2. Compare the descriptions of war-torn Kabul and the descriptions of Hassan after Assef rapes
him. How does Hosseini draw parallels between these two tragedies?
3. Assef describes his participation in the massacre of Hazaras at Mazar-i-Sharif: "You don't
know the meaning of the word 'liberating' until you've done that, stood in a roomful of
targets, let the bullets fly, free of guilt and remorse, knowing you are virtuous, good, and
decent" (22.24). Does a character like Assef even choose between good and evil? Could
Assef be innocent in ways Amir is not?
4. How does the character of Hassan remain pure and good even through tragedy and war?
Does Hassan just have some sort of basic goodness? Does Hosseini, through Hassan and Ali,
reclaim physical characteristics (the harelip, the limp) literature has traditionally associated
with evil or weakness?
QUOTES:
“We chased the Kochi, the nomads who passed through Kabul on their way to the mountains of the
north. We would hear their caravans approaching our neighborhood, the mewling of their sheep, the
baaing of their goats, the jingle of bells around their camels' necks. We'd run outside to watch the
caravan plod through our street, men with dusty, weather-beaten faces and women dressed in long,
colorful shawls, beads, and silver bracelets around their wrists and ankles. We hurled pebbles at their
goats. We squirted water on their mules. I'd make Hassan sit on the Wall of Ailing Corn and fire
pebbles with his slingshot at the camels' rears. (4.7)”
Is this from the movie My Girl or is it in a novel about betrayal and redemption? There's so much
innocence: cute little animals, magical caravans, and playful violence without any real consequences.
(Compare the violence here with the later blinding of Assef.) There is, however, an emerging
violence. Soon, Baba will sacrifice a lamb (notice the livestock here) for a Muslim holy day and Amir
will watch as Assef rapes Hassan. In that passage, Amir even compares Hassan's resignation to a
lamb's. For now, though, everything is peachy. (CHAPTER 4)
CODEY CARTLEDGE: ENGLISH: THE KITE RUNNER: TRUDI:
“Every winter, districts in Kabul held a kite-fighting tournament. And if you were a boy living in Kabul,
the day of the tournament was undeniably the highlight of the cold season. I never slept the night
before the tournament. I'd roll from side to side, make shadow animals on the wall, even sit on the
balcony in the dark, a blanket wrapped around me. I felt like a soldier trying to sleep in the trenches
the night before a major battle. And that wasn't so far off. In Kabul, fighting kites was a little like
going to war. (6.7)”
There's an innocence to Amir's insomnia here. Although Hosseini doesn't spend a lot of time talking
about Amir's sleeplessness, he does mention it a few times. Amir starts to have trouble sleeping
after he betrays Hassan – and Amir never really resolves his sleeplessness in the novel. At this point,
though, Amir stays up during the night because nervous energy prevents him from falling asleep.
Later guilt, anxiety, and all the darker forces of the brain will torment Amir. (CHAPTER 6)
“Assef knelt behind Hassan, put his hands on Hassan's hips and lifted his bare buttocks. He kept one
hand on Hassan's back and undid his own belt buckle with his free hand. He unzipped his jeans.
Dropped his underwear. He positioned himself behind Hassan. Hassan didn't struggle. Didn't even
whimper. He moved his head slightly and I caught a glimpse of his face. Saw the resignation in it. It
was a look I had seen before. It was the look of the lamb. (7.133)”
We're especially frightened by this passage because Assef is only a boy, too. Can Assef even know
the repercussions of his act? Does Assef, too, despite his cruelty, retain a type of innocence? When
children are cruel to each other are they still innocent even in their cruelty? Don't forget, either,
about Amir who's watching the event. In fact, you might be able to say that Amir's abandonment
and betrayal of Hassan affects Amir more than it affects Hassan. Hassan retains – or at least returns
to – some measure of innocence. But Amir is irrevocably changed. (CHAPTER 7)
“Tomorrow is the tenth day of Dhul-Hijjah, the last month of the Muslim calendar, and the first of
three days of Eid Al-Adha, or Eid-e-Qorban, as Afghans call it – a day to celebrate how the prophet
Ibrahim almost sacrificed his own son for God. Baba has handpicked the sheep again this year, a
powder white one with crooked black ears. (7.134)”
Hassan certainly meets the Hebrew's requirement of the sacrificial animal: purity. Does Baba in
some way play the Ibrahim role and sacrifice Hassan because Hassan is a Hazara? Or does Amir
sacrifice Hassan? Do Amir and Baba play the same role – are they both Ibrahim? Does Baba – by
refusing to love Amir unconditionally – end up sacrificing Amir? Who is the victim here? If this were
a multiple choice test, we might choose "D. All of the above." We can't take the test for you, though.
(CHAPTER 7)
“The Russian soldier thrust his face into the rear of the truck. He was humming the wedding song and
drumming his finger on the edge of the tailgate. Even in the dim light of the moon, I saw the glazed
look in his eyes as they skipped from passenger to passenger. Despite the cold, sweat streamed from
his brow. His eyes settled on the young woman wearing the black shawl. He spoke in Russian to
Karim without taking his eyes off her. Karim gave a curt reply in Russian, which the soldier returned
with an even curter retort. The Afghan soldier said something too, in a low, reasoning voice. But the
Russian soldier shouted something that made the other two flinch. I could feel Baba tightening up
next to me. Karim cleared his throat, dropped his head. Said the soldier wanted a half hour with the
lady in the back of the truck. (10.13)”
“Every winter, districts in Kabul held a kite-fighting tournament. And if you were a boy living in Kabul,
the day of the tournament was undeniably the highlight of the cold season. I never slept the night
before the tournament. I'd roll from side to side, make shadow animals on the wall, even sit on the
balcony in the dark, a blanket wrapped around me. I felt like a soldier trying to sleep in the trenches
the night before a major battle. And that wasn't so far off. In Kabul, fighting kites was a little like
going to war. (6.7)”
There's an innocence to Amir's insomnia here. Although Hosseini doesn't spend a lot of time talking
about Amir's sleeplessness, he does mention it a few times. Amir starts to have trouble sleeping
after he betrays Hassan – and Amir never really resolves his sleeplessness in the novel. At this point,
though, Amir stays up during the night because nervous energy prevents him from falling asleep.
Later guilt, anxiety, and all the darker forces of the brain will torment Amir. (CHAPTER 6)
“Assef knelt behind Hassan, put his hands on Hassan's hips and lifted his bare buttocks. He kept one
hand on Hassan's back and undid his own belt buckle with his free hand. He unzipped his jeans.
Dropped his underwear. He positioned himself behind Hassan. Hassan didn't struggle. Didn't even
whimper. He moved his head slightly and I caught a glimpse of his face. Saw the resignation in it. It
was a look I had seen before. It was the look of the lamb. (7.133)”
We're especially frightened by this passage because Assef is only a boy, too. Can Assef even know
the repercussions of his act? Does Assef, too, despite his cruelty, retain a type of innocence? When
children are cruel to each other are they still innocent even in their cruelty? Don't forget, either,
about Amir who's watching the event. In fact, you might be able to say that Amir's abandonment
and betrayal of Hassan affects Amir more than it affects Hassan. Hassan retains – or at least returns
to – some measure of innocence. But Amir is irrevocably changed. (CHAPTER 7)
“Tomorrow is the tenth day of Dhul-Hijjah, the last month of the Muslim calendar, and the first of
three days of Eid Al-Adha, or Eid-e-Qorban, as Afghans call it – a day to celebrate how the prophet
Ibrahim almost sacrificed his own son for God. Baba has handpicked the sheep again this year, a
powder white one with crooked black ears. (7.134)”
Hassan certainly meets the Hebrew's requirement of the sacrificial animal: purity. Does Baba in
some way play the Ibrahim role and sacrifice Hassan because Hassan is a Hazara? Or does Amir
sacrifice Hassan? Do Amir and Baba play the same role – are they both Ibrahim? Does Baba – by
refusing to love Amir unconditionally – end up sacrificing Amir? Who is the victim here? If this were
a multiple choice test, we might choose "D. All of the above." We can't take the test for you, though.
(CHAPTER 7)
“The Russian soldier thrust his face into the rear of the truck. He was humming the wedding song and
drumming his finger on the edge of the tailgate. Even in the dim light of the moon, I saw the glazed
look in his eyes as they skipped from passenger to passenger. Despite the cold, sweat streamed from
his brow. His eyes settled on the young woman wearing the black shawl. He spoke in Russian to
Karim without taking his eyes off her. Karim gave a curt reply in Russian, which the soldier returned
with an even curter retort. The Afghan soldier said something too, in a low, reasoning voice. But the
Russian soldier shouted something that made the other two flinch. I could feel Baba tightening up
next to me. Karim cleared his throat, dropped his head. Said the soldier wanted a half hour with the
lady in the back of the truck. (10.13)”
CODEY CARTLEDGE: ENGLISH: THE KITE RUNNER: TRUDI:
Eek. The Russian soldier sings a wedding song while he chooses a woman to rape – that's really
creepy. Baba, unlike Amir, defends the possible victim and confronts the Russian soldier to prevent a
horrific event. We wonder, then, if redemptive acts, like this one from Baba, can return a character
to innocence. Don't forget that Baba betrayed Ali by sleeping with Sanaubar. So we wonder if Baba
redeems himself, his honour, and something like innocence by standing up to the Russian soldier.
Likewise, does Amir regain some measure of innocence? Or does one never regain lost innocence?
(CHAPTER 10)
“He had withered – there was simply no other word for it. His eyes gave me a hollow look and no
recognition at all registered in them. His shoulders hunched and his cheeks sagged like they were too
tired to cling to the bone beneath. His father, who'd owned a movie theatre in Kabul, was telling
Baba how, three months before, a stray bullet had struck his wife in the temple and killed her. Then
he told Baba about Kamal. I caught only snippets of it: Should have never let him go alone...always so
handsome, you know...four of them...tried to fight...God...took him...bleeding down there...his
pants...doesn't talk any more...just stares... (10.62)”
On their way to Pakistan, Amir and Baba discover that Kamal, one of the boys who stood by as Assef
raped Hassan, was raped in wartime Kabul. Kamal's experience mirrors both Hassan's and Sohrab's.
Four people are involved in the rape (Amir, Wali, Kamal as bystanders and Assef as the perpetrator).
Like Sohrab, Kamal refuses to speak. And, like Hassan, Kamal appears hollow and withdrawn. On a
larger scale, though, Hosseini comments on Afghanistan's loss of innocence. War brings about
Kamal's tragedy and the tragic loss of Kamal's mother. Often (but not always), the events in the lives
of individuals in The Kite Runner can be mapped onto the nation of Afghanistan. (CHAPTER 10)
“I unfolded the letter. It was written in Farsi. No dots were omitted, no crosses forgotten, no words
blurred together – the handwriting was almost childlike in its neatness. (17.7)”
First, it's amazing that Hassan learns how to read and write as an adult. But even more amazing is
the aura of innocence still surrounding Hassan. Hassan lives through a tragic attack at a young age.
His best friend, Amir, betrays him. He and his father leave their home. War comes to Afghanistan.
But through all this, Hassan holds onto something like innocence. (CHAPTER 17)
“A scrawny boy in a tweed jacket grabbed my elbow and spoke into my ear. Asked me if I wanted to
buy some "sexy pictures."
"Very sexy, Agha," he said, his alert eyes darting side to side – reminding me of a girl who, a few
years earlier, had tried to sell me crack in the Tenderloin district in San Francisco. The kid peeled one
side of his jacket open and gave me a fleeting glance of his sexy pictures: postcards of Hindi movies
showing doe-eyed sultry actresses, fully dressed, in the arms of their leading men. "So sexy," he
repeated. (21.67-68)”
There's some charming innocence here in the midst of poverty and oppression by a totalitarian
regime. This kid is trying to sell pictures of fully-clothed actresses. (CHAPTER 21)
"Bia, bia, my boy," the Talib said, calling Sohrab to him. Sohrab went to him, head down, stood
between his thighs. The Talib wrapped his arms around the boy. "How talented he is, nay, my Hazara
boy!" he said. His hands slid down the child's back, then up, felt under his armpits. One of the guards
elbowed the other and snickered. The Talib told them to leave us alone.
"Yes, Agha sahib," they said as they exited. The Talib spun the boy around so he faced me. He locked
his arms around Sohrab's belly, rested his chin on the boy's shoulder. Sohrab looked down at his feet,
Eek. The Russian soldier sings a wedding song while he chooses a woman to rape – that's really
creepy. Baba, unlike Amir, defends the possible victim and confronts the Russian soldier to prevent a
horrific event. We wonder, then, if redemptive acts, like this one from Baba, can return a character
to innocence. Don't forget that Baba betrayed Ali by sleeping with Sanaubar. So we wonder if Baba
redeems himself, his honour, and something like innocence by standing up to the Russian soldier.
Likewise, does Amir regain some measure of innocence? Or does one never regain lost innocence?
(CHAPTER 10)
“He had withered – there was simply no other word for it. His eyes gave me a hollow look and no
recognition at all registered in them. His shoulders hunched and his cheeks sagged like they were too
tired to cling to the bone beneath. His father, who'd owned a movie theatre in Kabul, was telling
Baba how, three months before, a stray bullet had struck his wife in the temple and killed her. Then
he told Baba about Kamal. I caught only snippets of it: Should have never let him go alone...always so
handsome, you know...four of them...tried to fight...God...took him...bleeding down there...his
pants...doesn't talk any more...just stares... (10.62)”
On their way to Pakistan, Amir and Baba discover that Kamal, one of the boys who stood by as Assef
raped Hassan, was raped in wartime Kabul. Kamal's experience mirrors both Hassan's and Sohrab's.
Four people are involved in the rape (Amir, Wali, Kamal as bystanders and Assef as the perpetrator).
Like Sohrab, Kamal refuses to speak. And, like Hassan, Kamal appears hollow and withdrawn. On a
larger scale, though, Hosseini comments on Afghanistan's loss of innocence. War brings about
Kamal's tragedy and the tragic loss of Kamal's mother. Often (but not always), the events in the lives
of individuals in The Kite Runner can be mapped onto the nation of Afghanistan. (CHAPTER 10)
“I unfolded the letter. It was written in Farsi. No dots were omitted, no crosses forgotten, no words
blurred together – the handwriting was almost childlike in its neatness. (17.7)”
First, it's amazing that Hassan learns how to read and write as an adult. But even more amazing is
the aura of innocence still surrounding Hassan. Hassan lives through a tragic attack at a young age.
His best friend, Amir, betrays him. He and his father leave their home. War comes to Afghanistan.
But through all this, Hassan holds onto something like innocence. (CHAPTER 17)
“A scrawny boy in a tweed jacket grabbed my elbow and spoke into my ear. Asked me if I wanted to
buy some "sexy pictures."
"Very sexy, Agha," he said, his alert eyes darting side to side – reminding me of a girl who, a few
years earlier, had tried to sell me crack in the Tenderloin district in San Francisco. The kid peeled one
side of his jacket open and gave me a fleeting glance of his sexy pictures: postcards of Hindi movies
showing doe-eyed sultry actresses, fully dressed, in the arms of their leading men. "So sexy," he
repeated. (21.67-68)”
There's some charming innocence here in the midst of poverty and oppression by a totalitarian
regime. This kid is trying to sell pictures of fully-clothed actresses. (CHAPTER 21)
"Bia, bia, my boy," the Talib said, calling Sohrab to him. Sohrab went to him, head down, stood
between his thighs. The Talib wrapped his arms around the boy. "How talented he is, nay, my Hazara
boy!" he said. His hands slid down the child's back, then up, felt under his armpits. One of the guards
elbowed the other and snickered. The Talib told them to leave us alone.
"Yes, Agha sahib," they said as they exited. The Talib spun the boy around so he faced me. He locked
his arms around Sohrab's belly, rested his chin on the boy's shoulder. Sohrab looked down at his feet,
CODEY CARTLEDGE: ENGLISH: THE KITE RUNNER: TRUDI:
but kept stealing shy, furtive glances at me. The man's hand slid up and down the boy's belly. Up and
down, slowly, gently. (22.57-59)”
Assef is so evil. We wonder, though, how much Assef (and the guards) have affected Sohrab. Sohrab
stares at his feet and shyly glances at Amir. Don't these gestures still have something innocent in
them? Later, in their hotel room, Sohrab will tell Amir how "dirty" he feels, but these glances suggest
that Sohrab, like Hassan, retains an essential goodness and innocence despite the evil of the world
around him. (CHAPTER 22)
"Because – " he [Sohrab] said, gasping and hitching between sobs, "because I don't want them to see
me...I'm so dirty." He sucked in his breath and let it out in a long, wheezy cry. "I'm so dirty and full of
sin."
[Amir:] "You're not dirty, Sohrab," I said.
[Sohrab:] "Those men – "
[Amir:] "You're not dirty at all."
[Sohrab:] " – they did things...the bad man and the other two...they did things...did things to me."
[Amir:] "You're not dirty, and you're not full of sin." I touched his arm again and he drew away.
(24.87-92)”
Although Sohrab misses his father and mother (and grandmother), he admits he doesn't want to see
them. Or, rather, them to see him. All the terrible things Assef and the guards did to him has made
him feel "dirty" and guilty. Sohrab's father, Hassan, seems like the most lovable guy in the world.
Hassan does, however, hide his tragedy from others, compounding Amir's guilt. How does Amir hide
the fact that he abandoned Hassan? Does Baba hide anything? What about Soraya? Why do all these
characters hide so much? Will Sohrab, like them, hide his tragic experience? (CHAPTER 24)
but kept stealing shy, furtive glances at me. The man's hand slid up and down the boy's belly. Up and
down, slowly, gently. (22.57-59)”
Assef is so evil. We wonder, though, how much Assef (and the guards) have affected Sohrab. Sohrab
stares at his feet and shyly glances at Amir. Don't these gestures still have something innocent in
them? Later, in their hotel room, Sohrab will tell Amir how "dirty" he feels, but these glances suggest
that Sohrab, like Hassan, retains an essential goodness and innocence despite the evil of the world
around him. (CHAPTER 22)
"Because – " he [Sohrab] said, gasping and hitching between sobs, "because I don't want them to see
me...I'm so dirty." He sucked in his breath and let it out in a long, wheezy cry. "I'm so dirty and full of
sin."
[Amir:] "You're not dirty, Sohrab," I said.
[Sohrab:] "Those men – "
[Amir:] "You're not dirty at all."
[Sohrab:] " – they did things...the bad man and the other two...they did things...did things to me."
[Amir:] "You're not dirty, and you're not full of sin." I touched his arm again and he drew away.
(24.87-92)”
Although Sohrab misses his father and mother (and grandmother), he admits he doesn't want to see
them. Or, rather, them to see him. All the terrible things Assef and the guards did to him has made
him feel "dirty" and guilty. Sohrab's father, Hassan, seems like the most lovable guy in the world.
Hassan does, however, hide his tragedy from others, compounding Amir's guilt. How does Amir hide
the fact that he abandoned Hassan? Does Baba hide anything? What about Soraya? Why do all these
characters hide so much? Will Sohrab, like them, hide his tragic experience? (CHAPTER 24)
CODEY CARTLEDGE: ENGLISH: THE KITE RUNNER: TRUDI:
RACE:
Does racial intolerance bring about our worst moments as human beings? The Kite Runner examines
the whole spectrum of racism: out-and-out hatred, religious justification of racism, nonviolent but
still nasty racism, racism which coexists with generosity and kindness, and internalized racism which
manifests itself as self-loathing. However, the plot suggests, the very ethnicity some people treat so
poorly is closer to them than they might think – Amir finds out that his former servant, a member of
the ethnic minority, is his half-brother. Thus, the book also explores redemption. Can we atone for a
past of intolerance? Or, even further, can we atone for the intolerance of our parents?
Questions About Race:
1. When Amir sees Assef rape Hassan in the alleyway, he asks himself if he really needs to
rescue Hassan because "[h]e was just a Hazara, wasn't he?" (7.140). How much of a role
does ethnicity play in Amir's abandonment of Hassan? How much of a role does jealously –
since Amir's father often favours Hassan over Amir – play?
2. Do you find the character of Assef believable or does Assef strike you as too evil? If you don't
find Assef's character believable, do you find Assef's brand of racism believable? Can you
think of dictators or historical figures Hosseini might have used to create the character of
Assef?
3. For Baba, nang (honour) and namoos (pride) are the two central principles of Pashtun men.
Does this mean that for Baba Hazara men don't have nang and namoos? Is this why he
sleeps with Ali's wife?
4. How is ethnicity tied to other identities in the novel like economic class and religion? Do
religious differences motivate Assef's prejudice more than ethnicity does? Do class
differences motivate Baba's prejudice more than ethnicity does? Or are all these identities
inextricably intertwined in the Afghanistan of The Kite Runner?
QUOTES:
“They called him "flat-nosed" because of Ali and Hassan's characteristic Hazara Mongoloid features.
For years, that was all I knew about the Hazaras, that they were Mogul descendants, and that they
looked a little like Chinese people. School text books barely mentioned them and referred to their
ancestry only in passing. Then one day, I was in Baba's study, looking through his stuff, when I found
one of my mother's old history books. It was written by an Iranian named Khorami. I blew the dust off
it, sneaked it into bed with me that night, and was stunned to find an entire chapter on Hazara
history. An entire chapter dedicated to Hassan's people! In it, I read that my people, the Pashtuns,
had persecuted and oppressed the Hazaras. It said the Hazaras had tried to rise against the Pashtuns
in the nineteenth century, but the Pashtuns had "quelled them with unspeakable violence." The book
said that my people had killed the Hazaras, driven them from their lands, burned their homes, and
sold their women. The book said part of the reason Pashtuns had oppressed the Hazaras was that
Pashtuns were Sunni Muslims, while Hazaras were Shi'a. The book said a lot of things I didn't know,
things my teachers hadn't mentioned. Things Baba hadn't mentioned either. It also said some things I
did know, like that people called Hazaras mice-eating, flat-nosed, load-carrying donkeys. I had heard
some of the kids in the neighbourhood yell those names to Hassan. (2.23)”
RACE:
Does racial intolerance bring about our worst moments as human beings? The Kite Runner examines
the whole spectrum of racism: out-and-out hatred, religious justification of racism, nonviolent but
still nasty racism, racism which coexists with generosity and kindness, and internalized racism which
manifests itself as self-loathing. However, the plot suggests, the very ethnicity some people treat so
poorly is closer to them than they might think – Amir finds out that his former servant, a member of
the ethnic minority, is his half-brother. Thus, the book also explores redemption. Can we atone for a
past of intolerance? Or, even further, can we atone for the intolerance of our parents?
Questions About Race:
1. When Amir sees Assef rape Hassan in the alleyway, he asks himself if he really needs to
rescue Hassan because "[h]e was just a Hazara, wasn't he?" (7.140). How much of a role
does ethnicity play in Amir's abandonment of Hassan? How much of a role does jealously –
since Amir's father often favours Hassan over Amir – play?
2. Do you find the character of Assef believable or does Assef strike you as too evil? If you don't
find Assef's character believable, do you find Assef's brand of racism believable? Can you
think of dictators or historical figures Hosseini might have used to create the character of
Assef?
3. For Baba, nang (honour) and namoos (pride) are the two central principles of Pashtun men.
Does this mean that for Baba Hazara men don't have nang and namoos? Is this why he
sleeps with Ali's wife?
4. How is ethnicity tied to other identities in the novel like economic class and religion? Do
religious differences motivate Assef's prejudice more than ethnicity does? Do class
differences motivate Baba's prejudice more than ethnicity does? Or are all these identities
inextricably intertwined in the Afghanistan of The Kite Runner?
QUOTES:
“They called him "flat-nosed" because of Ali and Hassan's characteristic Hazara Mongoloid features.
For years, that was all I knew about the Hazaras, that they were Mogul descendants, and that they
looked a little like Chinese people. School text books barely mentioned them and referred to their
ancestry only in passing. Then one day, I was in Baba's study, looking through his stuff, when I found
one of my mother's old history books. It was written by an Iranian named Khorami. I blew the dust off
it, sneaked it into bed with me that night, and was stunned to find an entire chapter on Hazara
history. An entire chapter dedicated to Hassan's people! In it, I read that my people, the Pashtuns,
had persecuted and oppressed the Hazaras. It said the Hazaras had tried to rise against the Pashtuns
in the nineteenth century, but the Pashtuns had "quelled them with unspeakable violence." The book
said that my people had killed the Hazaras, driven them from their lands, burned their homes, and
sold their women. The book said part of the reason Pashtuns had oppressed the Hazaras was that
Pashtuns were Sunni Muslims, while Hazaras were Shi'a. The book said a lot of things I didn't know,
things my teachers hadn't mentioned. Things Baba hadn't mentioned either. It also said some things I
did know, like that people called Hazaras mice-eating, flat-nosed, load-carrying donkeys. I had heard
some of the kids in the neighbourhood yell those names to Hassan. (2.23)”
CODEY CARTLEDGE: ENGLISH: THE KITE RUNNER: TRUDI:
Ethnicity is complicated in The Kite Runner. Amir and Hassan have different ethnic groups: Amir is
Pashtun and Hassan is Hazara. To make matters confusing, though, Pashtuns are Sunni Muslims and
Hazaras are Shi'a Muslims. (So ethnicity and religion intertwine.) Here, Amir talks about how the
Hazara people have been pretty much erased from official Afghani schoolbooks. Since the Pashtuns
are in control, the Hazaras don't get much space in the official history of the country. There's also an
attempt, it seems, to cover up the genocide committed by the Pashtuns against the Hazaras in the
nineteenth century. Do you think Amir's betrayal of Hassan is just another instance of Pashtuns
mistreating Hazaras – or does Amir, by telling Hassan's story, attempt to change things? (CHAPTER 2)
“But despite sharing ethnic heritage and family blood, Sanaubar joined the neighbourhood kids in
taunting Ali. I have heard that she made no secret of her disdain for his appearance.
"This is a husband?" she would sneer. "I have seen old donkeys better suited to be a husband."
(2.25)”
Amir praises Sanaubar's beauty. Ali, on the other hand, isn't known for his looks. Even though
Sanaubar strikes us as cruel here, we can make sense of her disdain for her husband's appearance.
Powerful people sometimes mock powerless people. Athletic people sometimes dislike clumsy
people. It's mean, but it's also human. (For example, "If I have this trait, why don't other people have
it?") However, we at Shmoop think something else is going on: self-loathing. Two paragraphs before
this one, Amir recalls some of the terrible ethnic slurs for Hazaras. One of them is "load-carrying
donkey." Sanaubar, like Ali, is a Hazara. And so there's some self-hatred when she says, "I have seen
old donkeys better suited to be a husband." In a way, she's adopting the slur that the Pashtuns use
against her own people. It could be that she has internalized hatred. (CHAPTER 2)
“The curious thing was, I never thought of Hassan and me as friends either. Not in the usual sense,
anyhow. Never mind that we taught each other to ride a bicycle with no hands, or to build a fully
functional homemade camera out of a cardboard box. Never mind that we spent entire winters flying
kites, running kites. Never mind that to me, the face of Afghanistan is that of a boy with a thin-boned
frame, a shaved head, and low-set ears, a boy with a Chinese doll face perpetually lit by a harelipped
smile. Never mind any of those things. Because history isn't easy to overcome. Neither is religion. In
the end, I was a Pashtun and he was a Hazara, I was Sunni and he was Shi'a, and nothing was ever
going to change that. Nothing. (4.4-5)”
This passage occurs in the midst of two relevant insights: 1) Amir never hears Baba refer to Ali as his
friend in the stories he tells; and 2) no amount of history, ethnicity, society, or religion can change
the fact that Amir and Hassan spent all their formative childhood moments together. So what should
we make of Amir's contradictory statements here – doesn't he say history both does and does not
trump his love for Hassan? Said another way: can history and ethnicity break the bonds of family?
We're not sure. This might be the paradox at the heart of the novel. (CHAPTER 4)
Ethnicity is complicated in The Kite Runner. Amir and Hassan have different ethnic groups: Amir is
Pashtun and Hassan is Hazara. To make matters confusing, though, Pashtuns are Sunni Muslims and
Hazaras are Shi'a Muslims. (So ethnicity and religion intertwine.) Here, Amir talks about how the
Hazara people have been pretty much erased from official Afghani schoolbooks. Since the Pashtuns
are in control, the Hazaras don't get much space in the official history of the country. There's also an
attempt, it seems, to cover up the genocide committed by the Pashtuns against the Hazaras in the
nineteenth century. Do you think Amir's betrayal of Hassan is just another instance of Pashtuns
mistreating Hazaras – or does Amir, by telling Hassan's story, attempt to change things? (CHAPTER 2)
“But despite sharing ethnic heritage and family blood, Sanaubar joined the neighbourhood kids in
taunting Ali. I have heard that she made no secret of her disdain for his appearance.
"This is a husband?" she would sneer. "I have seen old donkeys better suited to be a husband."
(2.25)”
Amir praises Sanaubar's beauty. Ali, on the other hand, isn't known for his looks. Even though
Sanaubar strikes us as cruel here, we can make sense of her disdain for her husband's appearance.
Powerful people sometimes mock powerless people. Athletic people sometimes dislike clumsy
people. It's mean, but it's also human. (For example, "If I have this trait, why don't other people have
it?") However, we at Shmoop think something else is going on: self-loathing. Two paragraphs before
this one, Amir recalls some of the terrible ethnic slurs for Hazaras. One of them is "load-carrying
donkey." Sanaubar, like Ali, is a Hazara. And so there's some self-hatred when she says, "I have seen
old donkeys better suited to be a husband." In a way, she's adopting the slur that the Pashtuns use
against her own people. It could be that she has internalized hatred. (CHAPTER 2)
“The curious thing was, I never thought of Hassan and me as friends either. Not in the usual sense,
anyhow. Never mind that we taught each other to ride a bicycle with no hands, or to build a fully
functional homemade camera out of a cardboard box. Never mind that we spent entire winters flying
kites, running kites. Never mind that to me, the face of Afghanistan is that of a boy with a thin-boned
frame, a shaved head, and low-set ears, a boy with a Chinese doll face perpetually lit by a harelipped
smile. Never mind any of those things. Because history isn't easy to overcome. Neither is religion. In
the end, I was a Pashtun and he was a Hazara, I was Sunni and he was Shi'a, and nothing was ever
going to change that. Nothing. (4.4-5)”
This passage occurs in the midst of two relevant insights: 1) Amir never hears Baba refer to Ali as his
friend in the stories he tells; and 2) no amount of history, ethnicity, society, or religion can change
the fact that Amir and Hassan spent all their formative childhood moments together. So what should
we make of Amir's contradictory statements here – doesn't he say history both does and does not
trump his love for Hassan? Said another way: can history and ethnicity break the bonds of family?
We're not sure. This might be the paradox at the heart of the novel. (CHAPTER 4)
CODEY CARTLEDGE: ENGLISH: THE KITE RUNNER: TRUDI:
RELIGION:
Early on in The Kite Runner it seems like there are only two approaches to religion. Either you're an
extremist like the protagonist's teacher, who considers drinking an offense punishable by hell, or
you're liberal like the protagonist's father, who thinks religion is silly and drinking is fun. Also,
religion justifies some of the horrific acts in the book. However, by the end of the novel we do see
the development of religious sentiment based on spiritual awakening and recourse to God in times
of suffering. We wonder, however, if this development is enough to counter the novel's earlier
depictions of religion as a justification for cruelty.
Questions About Religion:
1. Is the character of Baba just as close-minded about Islam as Mullah Fatiullah Khan (Amir's
teacher) is about Baba's occasional scotch? Or is Baba not close-minded at all and instead
just indifferent to religion?
2. What role does Amir's spiritual awakening play in the novel? Why do you think Hosseini
included it in the plot?
3. It's easy to forget about Ali's faith in the novel since Hosseini rarely mentions it. Hosseini
does, however, describe Hassan and Ali reciting their daily prayers. Do you think Amir
aspires to Ali's practice of faith later in the novel? Does Amir discard both his father's
approach to faith and Mullah Fatiullah Khan's in favor of Ali's?
4. Late in the novel, Amir and Farid (Amir's driver in Afghanistan and Pakistan) witness a public
stoning. Two adulterers are put in hole in the ground, blindfolded, and stoned. Baba also
commits adultery in the novel. Do Amir and his father avoid punishment for their "sins"?
RELIGION:
Early on in The Kite Runner it seems like there are only two approaches to religion. Either you're an
extremist like the protagonist's teacher, who considers drinking an offense punishable by hell, or
you're liberal like the protagonist's father, who thinks religion is silly and drinking is fun. Also,
religion justifies some of the horrific acts in the book. However, by the end of the novel we do see
the development of religious sentiment based on spiritual awakening and recourse to God in times
of suffering. We wonder, however, if this development is enough to counter the novel's earlier
depictions of religion as a justification for cruelty.
Questions About Religion:
1. Is the character of Baba just as close-minded about Islam as Mullah Fatiullah Khan (Amir's
teacher) is about Baba's occasional scotch? Or is Baba not close-minded at all and instead
just indifferent to religion?
2. What role does Amir's spiritual awakening play in the novel? Why do you think Hosseini
included it in the plot?
3. It's easy to forget about Ali's faith in the novel since Hosseini rarely mentions it. Hosseini
does, however, describe Hassan and Ali reciting their daily prayers. Do you think Amir
aspires to Ali's practice of faith later in the novel? Does Amir discard both his father's
approach to faith and Mullah Fatiullah Khan's in favor of Ali's?
4. Late in the novel, Amir and Farid (Amir's driver in Afghanistan and Pakistan) witness a public
stoning. Two adulterers are put in hole in the ground, blindfolded, and stoned. Baba also
commits adultery in the novel. Do Amir and his father avoid punishment for their "sins"?
CODEY CARTLEDGE: ENGLISH: THE KITE RUNNER: TRUDI:
ADMIRATION:
We're not sure if admiration is actually a good thing in The Kite Runner. The protagonist's intense
admiration for his father leads him to some fairly dastardly deeds. In this novel, the flip-side to
admiration is jealousy, and jealousy leads to all sorts of trouble. However, the protagonist's best
friend offers an example of unflagging admiration, which puts admiration in a better light. His
admiration seems more like loyalty and devotion than a jealously-inspiring obsession. Moral of the
story: Admire people in moderation.
Questions About Admiration:
1. Do Wali and Kamal admire Assef? Or do they simply fear him? Is their relationship with Assef
different than Amir's with Baba's? How so?
2. Why doesn't Amir admire Rahim Khan as much as he admires his father? What does this tell
us about admiration (and its recipients)?
3. Contrast Amir's admiration for his deceased mother with his admiration for his father.
4. Does Amir admire his father less in Fremont, California? Or do their poverty and Baba's
deteriorating health increase Amir's admiration for his father?
ADMIRATION:
We're not sure if admiration is actually a good thing in The Kite Runner. The protagonist's intense
admiration for his father leads him to some fairly dastardly deeds. In this novel, the flip-side to
admiration is jealousy, and jealousy leads to all sorts of trouble. However, the protagonist's best
friend offers an example of unflagging admiration, which puts admiration in a better light. His
admiration seems more like loyalty and devotion than a jealously-inspiring obsession. Moral of the
story: Admire people in moderation.
Questions About Admiration:
1. Do Wali and Kamal admire Assef? Or do they simply fear him? Is their relationship with Assef
different than Amir's with Baba's? How so?
2. Why doesn't Amir admire Rahim Khan as much as he admires his father? What does this tell
us about admiration (and its recipients)?
3. Contrast Amir's admiration for his deceased mother with his admiration for his father.
4. Does Amir admire his father less in Fremont, California? Or do their poverty and Baba's
deteriorating health increase Amir's admiration for his father?
CODEY CARTLEDGE: ENGLISH: THE KITE RUNNER: TRUDI:
LITERATURE & WRITING:
When the protagonist of a novel is a writer, there's a good chance the novel will have plenty of juicy
commentary about writing. That's certainly the case with The Kite Runner. Some responsible and
some questionable writing practices crop up throughout the novel. Early on, literacy becomes a tool
to manipulate the illiterate. On a brighter note, however, literature also builds a bridge to family
members who died before us, giving breath and voice to absence. Writing briefly becomes a method
of escape for our protagonist. Later, however, it turns into a nifty device for self-exploration.
Questions About Literature and Writing:
1. A few characters ask Amir if he writes about Afghanistan. Do you think Hosseini, in the end,
endorses wildly imaginative literature in The Kite Runner? Or does The Kite Runner demand
literature tethered to our lives and the political events that shape them?
2. Amir treasures the leather-bound notebook Rahim Khan gives him but throws away the
biography of Hitler Assef gives him. Comment on these two uses of writing and Amir's choice
of the notebook.
3. Hassan seems to have a particularly pure love for literature. Does Hassan, in a way, teach
Amir how to love literature? Is Hassan Amir's first literary mentor (Rahim Khan being the
second)?
4. So, there's a fictional piece of fiction in The Kite Runner called A Season for Ashes. Amir's
novel tells the story of a professor who runs away with a clan of gypsies after he finds his
wife cheating on him with one of his students. Do you think Amir is proud of his book A
Season for Ashes? Would you be proud of it? How is its plot relevant to The Kite Runner and
to Amir's life?
LITERATURE & WRITING:
When the protagonist of a novel is a writer, there's a good chance the novel will have plenty of juicy
commentary about writing. That's certainly the case with The Kite Runner. Some responsible and
some questionable writing practices crop up throughout the novel. Early on, literacy becomes a tool
to manipulate the illiterate. On a brighter note, however, literature also builds a bridge to family
members who died before us, giving breath and voice to absence. Writing briefly becomes a method
of escape for our protagonist. Later, however, it turns into a nifty device for self-exploration.
Questions About Literature and Writing:
1. A few characters ask Amir if he writes about Afghanistan. Do you think Hosseini, in the end,
endorses wildly imaginative literature in The Kite Runner? Or does The Kite Runner demand
literature tethered to our lives and the political events that shape them?
2. Amir treasures the leather-bound notebook Rahim Khan gives him but throws away the
biography of Hitler Assef gives him. Comment on these two uses of writing and Amir's choice
of the notebook.
3. Hassan seems to have a particularly pure love for literature. Does Hassan, in a way, teach
Amir how to love literature? Is Hassan Amir's first literary mentor (Rahim Khan being the
second)?
4. So, there's a fictional piece of fiction in The Kite Runner called A Season for Ashes. Amir's
novel tells the story of a professor who runs away with a clan of gypsies after he finds his
wife cheating on him with one of his students. Do you think Amir is proud of his book A
Season for Ashes? Would you be proud of it? How is its plot relevant to The Kite Runner and
to Amir's life?
CODEY CARTLEDGE: ENGLISH: THE KITE RUNNER: TRUDI:
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