We Never Make Mistakes

Alexander Solzhenitsyn is probably the most notable example of what it means to be a writer and a prophet in the 20th century. In fact, I'll be so bold as to say he was the greatest living Russian writer of his time. His entire works were done to accomplish one purpose - exposing the atrocities of the Soviet Regime. The Gulag Archipalego, a sprawling narrative written in the epic style akin to War and Peace, depicts the harshness of the Russian government and Russian life for much of the 20th century in highly nuanced and sophisticated prose.

We Never Make Mistakes combines two of Solzhenitsyn's best known novellas: An Incident at Krechetovka Station and Matryona's House. The first is the story of a Soviet lieutenant working at a railway junction during Hitler's offensive on Russia. The station happens to be just behind the front line of the battle and, much to Lieutenant Kotov's chagrin, he must remain where he is and attend to administrative responsibilities. What he really wants is to be out there in the trenches fighting the good fight. He is an educated man, and a moral one at that. Yet, one fateful night, he meets a stranger who puts his education and morality to the test. Kotov will come to realise that perhaps morality isn't as simple a thing as he had thought it was.

The second story is that of a man staying with the widowed Matryona in a small town where he works as a teacher. Written from the perspective of the teacher, the story simply presents snapshots of the life, struggles, pleasures, and hardships of Matryona.

The genius behind these stories is that they are not at all polemic in nature. The image I have is of Solzhenitsyn as a painter, where he's just painted a picture of touching beauty, even though it doesn't seem to say much at first sight. Then he turns around and walks away from the painting. Just like that, as if to say, 'This is sufficient.' We see normal people living normal lives, or at least trying to, and therein lies the indictment against Lenin, against Stalin, against Soviet Russia. The circumstances and the hardships speak loud enough. I don't think any passionately worded argument would hold as much power, truth, or conviction. The prose, even though translated, reads beautifully, particularly with the story of Matryona. I think truly beautiful writing always carries over no matter how many translations it undergoes.

Just earlier this year, in August to be precise, Alexander Solzhenitsyn passed away at the age of 91. Yet his prophet's voice carries on, because his work will always speak for justice, truth, and human dignity.

Ode To The Drum by Yusuf Komunyakaa

Gazelle, I killed you

for your skin's exquisite

touch, for how easy it is

to be nailed to a board

weathered raw as white

butcher paper. Last night

I heard my daughter praying

for the meat here at my feet.

You know it wasn't anger

that made me stop my heart

till the hammer fell. Weeks

ago, I broke you as a woman

once shattered me into a song

beneath her weight, before

you slouched into that

grassy hush. But now

I'm tightening lashes,

shaping hide as if around

a ribcage, stretched

like five bowstrings.

Ghosts cannot slip

back inside the body's drum.

You've been seasoned

by wind, dusk & sunlight.

Pressure can make everything

whole again, brass nails

tacked into the ebony wood

your face has been carved

five times. I have to drive

trouble from the valley.

Trouble in the hills.

Trouble on the river

too. There's no kola nut,

palm wine, fish, salt,

or calabash. Kadoom.

Kadoom. Kadoom. Ka-

doooom. Kadoom. Now

I have beaten a song back into you,

rise & walk away like a panther.

This is one of those poems I wish I and not the original poet had written. Sounds selfish, I know. And if I could steal it, I probably would, he-he.

The Kite Runner - A Beautiful, Wounded Smile

There are stories that remain with me weeks after I've read them, haunting me, as it were. The Kite Runner is one of such.

Amir grows up in an Afghanistan of the 70's alongside his childhood friend Hassan, who is the son to his father's servant. They fire slingshots at unsuspecting victims and sit in the shade of a pomegranate tree, where Amir reads stories to the illiterate Hassan from a book of old Persian tales. And in the winter, they fly and run kites on the streets of Kabul. Yet, one seemingly auspicious winter brings with it victory that ends up being completely overshadowed by a life-shattering event. It scars Amir for life and haunts him until, years later, a phone call from an old friend presents Amir with a chance to redeem himself.

'There is a way to be good again.'

This is a heartwrenching story, full of the kind of pain that 'hurts good.' Hosseini writes with the poise of an ancient Persian poet, and his prose and descriptions come in dainty morsels of a choice and stately meal. For instance, he chooses these words to describe our hero's encounter with a 'slim-hipped beauty': 'She had thick black eyebrows that touched in the middle like the arched wings of a flying bird...Her eyes, walnut brown and shaded by fanned eyelashes, met mine. Held for a moment. Flew away.'

What remains with me till now, and perhaps for a long time to come, is the description of the relationship between Amir and Hassan, as well as the angelic character of Hassan. It is something so beautiful, almost holy, meant to be preserved and cherished. But it is abused,ravaged. And such blatant injustice, for me, is what gives heart and soul to The Kite Runner. Perhaps the same is true of all the real-life injustices that enrage our hearts. In a sense, they help us rediscover our humanity and help us to feel the pain and sorrow of others, give us a voice to speak out on behalf of those who have no voice - because they are injustices characterised by one essential thing, which is the desecration of humanity.

Hosseini clearly has a deep love for his homeland. It shows in his writing, which truly is an expression of who he is. From his style, to his subject matter, to his content. There may be Afghans out there that consider him a non-Afghan, 'a tourist in his own country', as someone describes Amir in the book. But it is only too evident that a man who can write about his homeland with such passion and honesty after being away from it for so long is one that carries a great piece of that homeland with him wherever he goes. Khaled Hosseini, in my opinion, is an Afghan in the truest sense, fighting the good fight in the best way he knows how.

The generosity of this story more than makes up for its two or three unlikely coincidences, which may or may not bother you as a reader. Personally, I have chosen to overlook them.

The Kite Runner is a new addition to my list of favourites. The story of a deeply wounded heart. A heart that smiles nonetheless.