Too dumb to chew gum.

"That's Henry Kissinger." pg. 21

There really isn't much depth to this quote. I just kind of picked it to see if I could make a random post about it. So far I've got three sentences. I had to look up Henry Kissinger on Wikipedia because I'm a sheltered dumb American. I'd heard the name before. But I'm glad he did a lot of super-duper things for America. And it was nice of him to visit Afghanistan. I guess it may have been a kind of foreshadowing with the whole Russian situation that was to come, so that's cool.

Hey Costello, he stole your glasses!

Food and Wet. I call it soup.

"Years later, I learned an English word for the creature that Assef was, a word for which a good Farsi equivalent does not exist: 'sociopath.'" pg. 38

Hmm, usually I hear it the other way around. Like oh, there just isn't a good English equivalent for this word. We've even adopted words like zeitgeist and schadenfreude and doppelganger from German because in English we have to use entire phrases like "the general thoughts and feelings of the time", "taking pleasure in one's pain", and "someone who roams the world who looks exactly like you." I really think schadenfreude should have it's own English equivalent. You can make it up. Submit it to Websters. Either way, I'm glad to learn English has one-upped Farsi. Maybe because they didn't have the word for it, that's why nobody did anything about Assef when he ran around raping children...Bazinga!

On a fun note, here's a whole song about schadenfreude from Avenue Q. It's very questionable as far as language and themes go, but hey, I'm reading a book about child rape for class, so we can't get too nitpicky can we?

Everything needs to smell like lemons, OK?

"You greeted the guy across the aisle, you invited him for a bite of potato bolani or a little quabuli, and you chatted. You offered  tassali, condolences, for the death of a parent, congratulated the birth of children, and shook your head mournfully when the conversation turned to Afghanistan and the Roussis - which it inevitably did." pg. 138

This quote, to me, goes beyond mere dialect or style. It's a crucial description of an important routine of, it seems many, Afghan immigrants. What really spices this and the rest of the story up is the constant bombardment of Farsi words. Who knew I'd ever learn how to say thank you in Farsi? The constant repetition of familiar words such as thank you, naan, bread, and others make it seem more real, colloquial, but even deeper. It immerses the reader in Afghanistan. The Afghan way of life is very important to Amir and his people, so the local color of Afghans in Kabul and Afghans in California is quite prevalent. It makes me want to eat Mediterranean food.

Get me some naan up in hurr.

Cheese is just a lump of old milk.

"And I could almost feel the emptiness in Soraya's womb, like it was a living, breathing, thing. It had seeped into our marriage, that emptiness, into our laughs, and into our lovemaking. And late at night, in the darkness of our room, I'd feel it rising from Soraya and settling between us. Sleeping between us. Like a newborn child." pg. 189

I don't know why we can't be cool people and call this personification. Or is this personification/anthropomorphism at all? Sure it's giving human characteristics to "emptiness," but it's not an inanimate object or animal like the definition says. Am I bound to the strict definition like a Constitutionalist is to every word of the, uh, Constitution? Is there a totally different word for this altogether that I'm just missing? What IS tempo? But claps for Hosseini on taking something intangible and making it into something creepy like a newborn child just popping up outta nowhere. It really fits this metaphorical specter that has manifested itself in Amir and Soraya's life. Poor things, no chillins for them or their Afghan pride.

C'est la vie, eh Amir?

Congratulations! You're America's Next Top Babushka!

"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." pg. 54

Oh Amir, you're such a selfish little prick, you! I don't understand why Amir would ever want to mess with Hassan. I don't think Amir knows why he does it either. It especially makes him super antiheroic when Hassan is so foily (does that mean he's shiny? =D). Hassan's total submission to Amir's will and his portrayal as someone pure and innocent is right out the antithesis of an antihero which helps to draw a starker contrast between the two characters. Yet what complexifies it is their relationship as practically brothers. They spend most of their time together, playing, talking, doing kid things. Yet social customs, like Amir's being a Pashtun and Hassan's being a Hazara, and Amir's whacked-out personality make this relationship tragic.

It's Hassan. He's a foil character. Nyuk nyuk nyuk nyuk nyuk.