You mentioned the Farsi language. Could you explain for us what languages are spoken in Afghanistan and which ones you grew up with? Khaled Hosseini: Afghanistan is a kaleidoscope of different ethnicities, tribes, sub-tribes, families and so on. Every region has its own dialect and its own local culture.
So there are many, many different dialects, but there are two main languages. Are you capable of inflicting a deep, resounding loss upon yourself out of love for someone else -- for the greater good?
Also, I'm interested in the role of memory. In the fable, the div a supernatural creature in Afghan folklore gives the father, Baba Ayub, a potion and relieves him of the burden and pain of remembering his son, whom the div has captured and hidden in his fortress.
This recurs at the end of the book with the character Abdullah. Is memory how we make sense of the life that we've lived? Or is it a protector of that part of us that shine brightest? Or is it a curse that makes you re-live over and over the parts that hurt and pain you? Or is it both? These themes are raised in this relatively short fable but are revisited over and over in the novel.
You touched upon memory. What do you believe is the future of Afghan narratives and storytellers? Can it, and should it, escape the memory of and finally move beyond discussions of the war on terror, the Taliban, and a narrative often associated with "the graveyard of empires. As a writer living in exile, it's easier for me to do. Because my immediate reality is not living on the streets of Kabul where on every corner I can see a living reminder and living relic of the tragedy of the past 30 some-odd years.
My reality of living in the U. I think the enormity of what's happened to Afghanistan is far too powerful a black hole -- a vortex -- and a far too great a looming presence in the daily life of Afghan writers living there. Ultimately, you hope for a day when there's stories, songs, poetry coming out of Afghanistan that have nothing to do with the painful realities of the past 30 years.
But, I think it's too early. I think the story is still unfolding. I think people are still licking their wounds, and there are people literally walking around still wounded, also psychologically wounded.
It's far too great a reality to turn away from. Speaking about stories, you've said that in Western media, "There are still myths about Afghanistan , such as that the country is stuck in the 12th century. There is an element of romanticism too, as well as the idea that Afghans hate the west. There's been a criticism that your narratives have been used to promote stereotypical generalizations of Afghans and certain political agendas.
What's your response? I thought the perception of the region was more nuanced than it got credit for in The Kite Runner. The criticism is often leveled at me by older, more conservative, religious members of my community who feel the books have somehow blemished the reputation of Afghanistan in Western eyes. I don't see it that way. Most of my Western readers -- particularly Americans I've met for a better of a decade now -- never have that impression.
My understanding is that the books have depicted a far different picture of Afghanistan that my accusers seems to fear it has. Most readers have come away with a sense of empathy for Afghanistan and its people; there's been awareness of the richness of its culture, its heritage and its history. And as a result of connecting with the characters of my novels, they have achieved a more nuanced understanding of Afghanistan, and they certainly feel a sense of personal stake when they hear about an Afghan village being bombed.
I've received emails and letters to this effect. So, many of these fears are unfounded. And I think by and large, I hope my novels have raised the profile of Afghanistan in a constructive and hopefully instructive way.
You say Kite Runner is an example of pop culture being constructive and instructive. You've also mentioned that American shows depicting Muslims and the Middle East, such as Homeland , need to be done in a "responsible way" and not push an agenda. What is your opinion of America's depiction of Central Asia and Muslims; if it's negative, how do you counteract it using storytelling?
I think it's transforming. In our traditional mainstream media news, I think there's far too many stories dealing with "the radicalized Muslim. Just like in Afghanistan, the story of still looms large even more than a decade after it happened. That said, I do hope we can move away from that.
I see an opportunity for America to engage with the Muslim world. Perhaps we haven't done it to the fullest extent. For example, in Afghanistan, we're looking at a very young population -- over 60 percent of Afghans are under the age of And most of them are not radicalized or have any hopes or desires of becoming radicalized.
There are people with energy, vigor, entrepreneurial dreams; people who want to engage the modern world through technology and education, and I hope we move towards a form of engagement with the Muslim world that is more constructive than simply depicting large sections of a billion people under umbrellas that are pejorative.
Speaking about new narratives, I want to go back to this novel in which you seem very comfortable merging classical, Afghan folklore storytelling with modern narrative fiction. This particular novel casually references the supernatural, such as divs and jinns.
Often, it seems Western fiction condescends and rejects the mystical in favor of realism. Do you think Western fiction could benefit, or learn, from Afghan storytelling? There is room for everything. I think if you reject a certain kind of storytelling you handicap yourself and limit your options.
I think current Western contemporary fiction rejects even more than the mythical, it rejects the "sentimental" story. An instinct that has any aspirations of appealing to the reader on a deep emotional level is occasionally branded as sentimental in a kind of professorial, condescending way.
My background has never been in literature. I've gone to medical school. So, I don't consider myself part of "that" world. So what is said does not affect me all that much. But I do think we are seeing an enrichment of contemporary fiction in this country by the rise of new, young voices from Pakistan, India, Iran and hopefully Afghanistan.
This can only add dialogue, make it more interesting and instructive as well. Aside from your career as a novelist, you've spent considerable time and energy as a goodwill ambassador to Afghanistan.
That nation has endured decades of warfare and tragedy, most recently the post U. What are the grievances that Afghans have with the U. Is the rift irreparable, or can the wounds be healed? There's an abandonment complex in Afghanistan which had its origin in the wake of the Afghan-Soviet war. I'll relate the generic Afghan voice I've heard over and over again in many Afghan communities, which says that once the Afghan-Soviet war was over and Afghanistan had served its purpose by playing a major role in the downfall of the Soviet Empire and ending the Cold War, the West abandoned Afghanistan and its people.
Afghanistan was then exploited by thugs, the militia men, the Taliban and so forth. That is the main grievance leveled against the U. That has echoes to what we're seeing in Afghanistan now. Afghan people are a sovereign people. It's well-documented that they don't like foreigners on their soil. However, there is an anxiety, a sense of trepidation about what will happen once U.
I could see that if the reunion were to occur, it would occur on these terms and it wouldn't be the reunion we'd expect and perhaps the one we want. Among Hosseini's most compelling creations in the new novel is Nila Wahdati, an alcoholic poet. Hosseini was born in Kabul in , the first child of his diplomat father and teacher mother. Nila came, he says, from the kind of parties he remembers his parents throwing while he was a teenager in the 70s, when a certain stratum of Kabul's middle class was undergoing Westernisation.
Drinking freely, smoking. Nila is a creation from my memory of that kind of woman from that time and that place. It was, however, a place that he left when he was just 11 years old. His father's work took them to Paris, and then, when the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan prevented them from returning home, they sought political asylum in the United States and settled in California.
Hosseini, aged 15, was plunged into a San Jose high school, speaking no English. I think it was a lot worse for my parents. My dad was a diplomat and my mum vice-principal of a high school and now she's a waitress at Denny's, working the graveyard shift, and my dad is a driving instructor.
He adds: "There's nothing wrong with those things, but it was a regauging of their place in life. In Kabul they knew everybody, but in California nobody cared.
The family lived on welfare and, determined to ensure financial security, Hosseini resolved to become a doctor. He graduated from the University of California in and then completed his residency in internal medicine at Los Angeles's Cedars-Sinai Medical Centre in One of the new novel's most powerful sections includes an Afghan-American doctor whose compassion is tested by a trip to his homeland.
Hosseini, who says he doesn't miss medicine one bit, admits that the character is deeply autobiographical. I don't want to act the ugly, entitled Afghan-American and go around backslapping people, pretending I'm one of them, full of bonhomie.
That's disingenuous. I wasn't here when those guys were getting blown to pieces, so I'm not going to act like I was now that things are better. And Hosseini, of course, isn't really an average Afghan-American but a celebrity. Sales of The Kite Runner began snowballing when the book came out in paperback, and it spent weeks on the US bestsellers list.
In it was made into a film ; the movie adaptation of A Thousand Splendid Suns is due in In the past decade he has enjoyed several moments of disbelief.
The first, he recalls, came on a flight when he realised the woman beside him was reading The Kite Runner. And I couldn't believe it.
I didn't do anything, and she never said anything, but I noticed that she was really into it. The second time: "I was watching TV and I flipped the channels just in time to catch myself as the answer to a Jeopardy! So that was like: OK, people are reading my book.
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