I loved the narrator’s style – it teleported me to the houses and streets of Kabul, and mountain paths in Afganistan. It was not a surprise as the author is a journalist, it nevertheless enchanted.
The author spent time with the bookseller’s family the story is about. She lived with them under one roof, shared their food and was present at small and big family events. She did not judge, she kept an unveiled perspective even when wearing a burka to venture outside with the women of the household.
The girls and women who lived through a kingdom, and communist, mujahedeen, taliban regimes have the toughest share of suffering. I valued that the author also wrote about boys and poor men and their suffering. How hard it is for unpriviledged men is often skipped in our Western gender narrative.
The degree and scope of distruction Afganistan went through does not cease to amaze. And its source does not really matter. The pain the patriarchical ruling inflicts on own members of the family, the bombings by foreign armies, the burning of books by communists, mujahedeens, taliban are all the same – they all require healing and rebuilding. There is no truth in suffering. As long as we become aware about it, including thanks to journalists and authors like Asne Seierstad, we stand a chance to heal as a humanity.