News Headlines Need Better Supplements — How Fiction Can Help

Khaled Hosseini's The Kite Runner puts real human experiences to conflicts we might've heard of but don't fully understand

Recently, I watched a video by Ali Abdaal about whether or not reading fiction was a waste of time. He quotes the author, Ann Patchett, who says that reading fiction helps us "feel empathy for people we've never met, living lives we couldn't possibly experience for ourselves, because the book puts us inside the character's skin." Now, this isn't new information. Nonetheless, I think it's never more important to experience someone else's life than when it involves topics we've unfortunately become desensitised to. The Kite Runner is an excellent example, humanising Afghanistan's history of conflict through Amir.

A little more about The Kite Runner

Khaled Hosseini’s The Kite Runner begins with the childhood days of Amir, the son of a wealthy merchant (referred to as Baba), and his close friend Hassan in Kabul, Afghanistan. The two boys are inseparable but their bond is complicated; Hassan is also Amir's servant and a Hazara, a discriminated ethnic minority. So while Hassan is unfailingly loyal to Amir, Amir is less so to him. Eventually, a series of events leads Amir to send Hassan away from Kabul. Even after relocating to the United States with Baba, Amir's guilt still follows him around. Decades later, just when Amir’s life has finally settled, a phone call from an old friend brings him back to Afghanistan to right the wrongs of his childhood.

NOTE: The following sections contain spoilers.

Being robbed of life as you knew it

The Kite Runner’s plot is tightly laced within Afghanistan's historical context in the late 20th century. In December 1979, the Soviets invade and thus begins the Soviet-Afghan War. Insurgent groups (backed by the United States, Pakistan etc) battle against the Soviet Army and the Democratic Republic of Afghanistan government. With Kabul becoming a war-zone and Soviet spies lurking everywhere, Amir and Baba flee to the United States.

Sadly, tragic headlines have become the norm these days. But the truth is that I have the privilege of choice. I can keep scrolling on my social media feeds or close tabs on my browser. So while I've seen the headlines about war refugees, what do I really know about their experience? Reading a novel, however, is different than reading the news. There’s no way around but through and so I'm more compelled to see things as the characters do.

During their early days in California, I sympathise with Baba the most. In Afghanistan, he was a powerful and well-respected man. He led a successful business, threw large parties, drove a Mustang and socialised with the elite. And yet, he left it all behind for the sake of his son's future and safety. In the United States, Baba works at a gas station and drives a $550 dilapidated Volkswagen bus. On Sundays, Baba and Amir sell junk at the flea market to make a living. Clearly, their new home cares little about Baba's skills and former status. Amir himself describes his pity towards his father:

"My eyes returned to our suitcases. They made me sad for Baba. After everything he'd built, planned, fought for, fretted over, dreamed of, this was the summation of his life: one disappointing son and two suitcases."

Experiencing the horrors of war

Things are worse when Amir finally returns to a Taliban-ruled Afghanistan in June 2001. Admittedly, the only thing I knew about the Taliban before this was that they were "terrorists who do terrible things". Yet, it was still shocking to read about child rape, public executions by stoning and most of all, Hassan's merciless murder.

By this part of the novel, I've become fond of Hassan. His unconditional loyalty sometimes frustrates me (I wish he'd stand up to Amir!) but he definitely symbolises all the goodness in the world. Hassan never holds a grudge towards Amir even though he has more than enough reason to; Amir stood by while he was raped and then even framed him for theft. Despite these tragic events, Hassan finds his happiness. In adulthood, Hassan has a beautiful wife and son of his own and he only tells them good things about Amir.

So when Taliban officials drag him out of the house and into the street, call him "a liar and a thief like all Hazaras" and then put a bullet through his head without a second thought — that just breaks my heart. Hassan is the last person to deserve that. But things happen to people regardless of whether or not they deserve it.

There's a quote in the book that's admittedly not the most reassuring thing to read. During his return to Kabul, Amir meets an old man who knew his mother. The old man recalls the last conversation he had with her, in which she told him:

“Happiness like this is frightening...They only let you be this happy if they're preparing to take something from you."

In a way, Amir's mother is right. She dies soon after during childbirth. I feel like the same happens to Hassan. His only wrongdoings are his ethnicity and being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

NOTE: End of spoilers.

That's the scariest thing about war and conflict; it doesn't care about the life you've lived. It's merciless in claiming victims and everyone is affected, whether you're the wealthiest man in the country or his beloved servant. That said, each person experiences history differently because of their unique life circumstances. There's no single account that can ever be labelled the "correct" one. On top of that, novels are also influenced by the lives of their authors. So just as we study various historical sources before coming up with an argument, we have to realise that no book will paint a complete picture. Guess we'll just have to read more.

If anyone's interested, another book that really humanises the atrocities of war is Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's Half of a Yellow Sun. It's set during the Biafran War in 1980s Nigeria (If you read my blog intro, you can probably tell I highly recommend it!)