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“Mariam was five years old the first time she heard the word harami.” 

This is how Hosseini’s masterpiece begins, and it sets perfectly the entire tone of the novel.

Harami is the term in Afghanistan (and in Pakistan) for “bastard child.” Its meaning is especially filthy in these traditional countries: it implies a kind of illegitimacy, and unworthiness.

Hosseini is a master writer. In the span of 300 pages he is able to tell the story of two women and their lives over three decades. One is Mariam, the unlucky illegitimate Herati child of a rich businessman and the lowly and unhappy maid who lived in his mansion. The other is Laila, a Kabuli girl who was raised by her educated father to believe that a woman ought to have the same rights as any man.

This story hits close to home in more ways than one. It tells the story of our families and friends back homes. These people have become accustomed to lives wasted in war, and yet they remain, as ever, resilient. It is saddening to see their hopes raised by every coup d’état, by every peaceful election: only to see them again dashed by corrupted leaders and bad intentions.

How the streets of Afghanistan had once shouted with joy when the mujahideen, funded by the CIA and General Zia-ul Haq in Pakistan (among other nations) booted the Soviets out of Afghanistan. And look at the situation now: how they weep at the very sound of the word Taliban. As one of the characters in the novel comments: at least under the communists, women could be educated. They were seen as being equal to men. Though the right to practice religion was taken away, there was a certain satisfaction for women; in that they were able to work and live among men without fear.

A radio crackles in Mariam’s home: a Taliban general reads out the new rules of the nation. “An eye for an eye.” And with that, Afghanistan goes blind.

There are no hospitals for women. One mother in the novel is forced to put her precious daughter into an orphanage, since she is not allowed to work to support her family. She cannot even leave the house to visit her daughter at the orphanage. Without a man present, she is beaten for being on the streets alone and sent back home. She makes four or five trips, each time taking different routes. She layers herself in sweaters so that she doesn’t feel the bat against her body. Anything to get to her daughter.

Hosseini’s characters are beautifully written and so real. Even Mariam’s mother, the character who first called her a harami, is endearing. Her depression is not uncommon. The way she attacks Mariam is heartbreaking, but her reasons for doing so somewhat redeem her.

The story hits close to home in another way. Laila is not unlike many Canadian immigrant women. A modern lady, she is confident that one day she will make a name for herself. So, when readers see that war, marriage, and gender discrimination have forced the beautiful Laila into a life unlike the one she planned, we are devastated. She is us, and we are her! If this could happen to her, can it happen to us?

It can, perhaps.

In our Toronto lives, the Canadian Charter taught us about inalienable rights that we could claim against anyone. And the global human rights movement of the last fifty years convinced us to disregard age-old notions of natural social hierarchy. On the other hand, our home lives instilled in us the concept of inalienable responsibility; to our families, our husbands, our elders, our religion, and our fellow community members.  Like Laila, have we learned ambiguous concepts of right and wrong from incongruous socializing agents.

So it comes to us to decide which path ultimately brings us joy. Unfortunately, it’s a Catch-22; a rock vs. a hard place. No decision comes without sacrifices. We can’t just run away, or “do what makes us happy”; for there is no one path that brings that outcome. We were told we could have it all; it’s not easy to accept when we cannot.

Hosseini walks us through the decisions made by these two women; and the decisions forced upon them as they too struggle with these conflicting compulsions. The best part about this novel is that he doesnt create a perfect, happy ending. In the end, the characters do what they feel is right for them, not necessarily what is right in our eyes. Hosseini makes us see that in Afghanistan, the rightness and wrongness of even life and death can be viewed in a subjective manner. This level of subjectivity is not something North Americans are greatly accustomed to.

In some ways, the characters settle for second place. But in other ways, they break free of a life full of delusions, and accept the bitter pills of reality.
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