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《追風箏的孩子》胡賽尼回來了。
呼喚著,等待,總有一天會響起的回音
《遠山的回音》這次依然從胡賽尼擅長的手足之情出發,但透過九個篇章,描述一對自幼失散、感情深厚的兄妹——阿布杜拉和帕麗——如何經過漫長的半個世紀,彼此惦念、尋找,而橫跨半個地球、四個國家(阿富汗、美國、法國及希臘),影響數個家族的動人尋根故事;一如讀者所說:「每個角色就像一只只的風箏,帶著希望和夢想飛往喀布爾、巴黎、舊金山、希臘……」
故事的一開始,是另一個故事。阿富汗鄉間有一個會拐走小孩的魔怪傳說,傷心的父親千山萬水尋找失蹤的愛子,卻發現所有被魔怪抓來的孩子,都活在一個美好的地方,不愁吃穿、沒有病苦。魔怪問這位父親:如果你把孩子帶回去,能給他更好的生活嗎?你能讓你的孩子脫離貧窮、活著長大成人?
這是一個無比揪心的決定,而說完這個睡前故事的父親,隔天帶著一對兒女來到喀布爾;他們不知道的是,這故事只是一段漫長分離的序曲:隨著養母遠赴巴黎的小女孩帕麗,遺忘了如父的長兄阿布杜拉;失去小妹的哥哥輾轉在美國落地生根,隨著阿富汗陷入漫天烽火,斷了尋回小妹的希望,只為女兒取
368 pages, Kindle Edition
First published February 29, 2012








"All my life, I have lived like an aquarium fish in the safety of a glass tank, behind a barrier as impenetrable as it has been transparent. I have been free to observe the glimmering world on the other side, to picture myself in it, if I like. But I have always been contained, hemmed in, by the hard, unyielding confines of the existence that Baba has constructed for me, at first knowingly, when I was young, and now guilelessly, now that he is fading day by day. I think I have grown accustomed to the glass and am terrified that when it breaks, when I am alone, I will spill out into the wide open unknown and flop around, helpless, lost, gasping for breath."
The tale of how my father lost his sister was as familiar to me as the stories my mother had told me of the Prophet, tales I would learn again later when my parents would enroll me in Sunday school at a mosque in Hayward. Still, despite the familiarity, each night I asked to hear Pari’s story again, caught in the pull of its gravity. Maybe it was simply because we shared a name. Maybe that was why I sensed a connection between us, dim, enfolded in mystery, real nonetheless. But it was more than that. I felt touched by her, like I too had been marked by what had happened to her. We were interlocked, I sensed, through some unseen order in ways I couldn’t wholly understand, linked beyond our names, beyond familial ties, as if, together, we completed a puzzle. I felt certain that if I listened closely enough to her story, I would discover something revealed about myself.In the opening chapter of And the Mountains Echoed, a poor father tells his children a story. A monster ravished a town until a child was offered to appease him. In order to save the rest of his family and the town, a father sacrifices his favorite child to the monster. Years later, unable to recover from the sorrow of this decision, the father scales a mountain to reach the monster’s fortress, seeking to bring his son home. But, finding that the boy is happy, well-fed, clothed and educated, he reconsiders. In this story is the core of the tales to come. Hosseini writes of the bond between parents and children, and the sacrifices some parents make to see that their children are well looked after. Does the benefit of a more comfortable home, a richer material upbringing, outweigh the loss of that natural parent-child experience? The theme of parenting, with complications well beyond the keep-or-send-away element, permeates.

I am forever drawn to family as a recurring central theme of my writing. My earlier novels were at heart tales of fatherhood and motherhood. My new novel is a multi-generational family story as well, this time revolving around brothers and sisters, and the ways in which they love, wound, betray, honor, and sacrifice for each other.There are sibling issues galore here. An ugly duckling twin gets revenge on the favored twin, but takes on a considerable burden. A brother and sister who were very close, are torn apart at an early age, and must cope with the absence, of that missing other part of themselves. Friendships that seem more like sibling-hood sprout like poppies in Helmand. A Greek boy is joined by the daughter of his mother’s best friend. She remains longer than expected. A fast, but fragile friendship forms between a rich boy in Afghanistan and the son of a poor man.
…when you grow up in a Third World country, you know, poverty and affluence are juxtaposed. It's literally next door -- you don't have to go to another zip code. It's right there when you walk out in the street, and there are beggars and so on and so forth. So it becomes part of your life, and you can either not, just not reflect on it, but I must have, because I remember my stories always had to do with these things. There was always some guy who came from a very affluent background and some person who came from a much less privileged background, and their lives collided in some way, and tragedy would ensue inevitably. I mean, sort of a recurring theme in my storiesOne of the points Hosseini makes here is the commonality of East and West, despite outward differences. He mirrors many of his characters’ experiences. People sacrifice themselves to care for those in need of help in both places. Parents are no less stressed in the West than in the East in terms of struggling with decisions about their children. Pain is too much for some in both worlds. In both worlds there are characters who cannot face their futures and opt out. In both worlds young people sacrifice themselves to care for others. In both worlds there are characters who are seriously damaged physically and must cope with adapting to worlds that value beauty or at the very least normalcy. In both worlds parents give up their children. We really are the same beneath our cultures and histories.













Hosseini is a 'magician' who captures your mind with the simple tricks of powerful words and leaves you weeping silently but gifts you with a beautiful yet sad feeling. This time he has come up with an intriguing story of the siblings, Pari and Abdullah. The story may not be so special as The Kite Runner but the love the brother and the little sister share is unique.
All I want to do now is thank Mr. Hosseini for giving me the character of Abdullah with whom I can share so many feelings. The bitter-sweet longings I felt years ago when my sister left home for college, all came rushing back when Pari was taken away from poor little Abdullah.