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Reading Through Southeast Asia

Colleen Mondor at Chasing Ray is sponsoring another One Shot World Tour on August 12th. The idea is to read and review on that date one book –any reading level–either written by an author from that region or set in that part of the world. For the purposes of this tour, Southeast Asia consists of the following countries:

Thailand
Silk Umbrellas by Carolyn Marsden.
Touch The Dragon or Dream of a Thousand Lives: A Sojourn in Thailand by Karen Connelly.
Laos
Cambodia
Children of the River by Linda Crew.
The Stone Goddess by Minfong Ho.
When Broken Glass Floats by Chanrithy Him.
When the War Was Over by Elizabeth Becker.
First They Killed My Father by Loung Ung.
River of Time by John Swain.
Vietnam
Goodbye, Vietnam by Gloria Whelan.
Cracker: The Best Dog in Vietnam by Cynthia Kadohata. Semicolon review here.
When Heaven Fell by Carolyn Marsden. Semicolon review here.
Fallen Angels by Walter Dean Myers. Perry, a teenager from Harlem, experiences the horrors of the Vietnam War.
Paradise of the Blind by Thu Huong Duong and Nina McPherson
Singapore
Malaysia
The Malayan Trilogy by Anthony Burgess.
Indonesia
The Flame Tree by Richard Lewis. Semicolon review here. I loved this book when I read it back in 2005, and I’m recommending it to anyone who reads YA fiction and is participating in the tour.
Peace Child by Don Richardson. Christian missionaries Don and Carol Richardson confront a culture in which treachery is a cultural icon. Excellent true story.
A House in Bali by Colin McPhee.
The Year of Living Dangerously by Christopher Koch.
Philippines
In Our Image; America’s Empire in the Philippines by Stanley Karnow.
Noli Me Tangere (Touch Me Not) by José Rizal.
When the Elephants Dance by Tess Uriza Holthe.

I gathered this list from some of the lists linked below and from my own reading, and I’ll be reading a new-to-me book from the list above so that I can join in the world tour. I think I may focus on Cambodia.

All bloggers are welcome to participate in the One Shot World Tour on August 12th.

Links and Sources:
Southeast Asian Reading List by Bibliobuli.
Bibliography of Southeast Asian Children’s Books.
Cambodia: Book Reviews and Recommended Reading.

Finding Nouf by Zoe Ferraris

Finding Nouf is one of ten winners of the 2009 Alex Awards for “adult books that will appeal to teen readers.” I read it a week or two ago before the award list came out, and I must say that I was impressed, although I didn’t think of it as an adult book or a young adult book. It’s shelved with the adult mysteries in my library.

Finding Nouf, although written in a genre, detective stories, that’s know for its plot-driven novels, is all about setting first, and then characterization. The plot is serviceable, but not what kept me reading. In fact, I had to look back at the book just now to remind myself whodunnit. The story is set in Saudi Arabia, where a Palestinian orphan, Nayir, and a young professional, Katya Hijazi, team up to solve the disappearance and murder of a rich Saudi sixteen year old, Nouf. Nouf happens to be the sister of Miss Hijazi’s fiance and Nayir’s friend, Othman Shrawi. And even though Nayir is uncomfortable with the mere presence of Katya Hijazi, a single woman, in the same room with men, and sometimes unveiled, he realizes that the tow of them need to work together if they are going to navigate the rules, written and unwritten, of Saudi culture and society and find out what really happened to Nouf.

The relationships of men and women in such a legalistic, religion-drenched society are complicated and awkward. Modernity is an influence, as is tradition, and both fight against the exigencies of just getting things done, like a murder investigation or even a simple meal. It was fascinating to read about how naive and ignorant Nayir was in the area of relating to women, and yet I wondered if men in our “open and free” American society understand women any better than Nayir does.

Zoe Ferraris, by the way, lived in Saudi Arabia with her Saudi-Palestinian husband just after the first Gulf War, although she is now divorced and lives in San Francisco.

LA TImes article about the book: “Now there is “Finding Nouf,” the fictional outcome of San Franciscan Zoë Ferraris’ habitation in Saudi Arabia for several years after the first Gulf War. Even if that information had been left off the jacket flap, it would be readily apparent; only a writer with experience both as a part of and apart from Saudi culture could have crafted such a novel.”

At Talifoon by Zoe Ferraris (a short, but revealing, article about Ms. Ferraris’s life in Saudi Arabia): “Just after the first Gulf War, I moved to Jeddah with my husband. I didn’t realize at the time that I hadn’t married Essam, I had married his mother and the women of his family. The minute I arrived, they became my world.”

An interview with Zoe Ferraris: “The biggest revelation I had in Saudi Arabia was learning that men were just as frustrated by gender segregation as women were. My ex-husband’s best friend tried for years to find a wife. It surprised me to realize something that should have been obvious: if you’re not allowed to speak to the opposite sex, how do you meet a mate?”

I found this book on the recommendation of Sam Sattler at Book Chase. Thanks, Sam.

Secret Keeper by Mitali Perkins

I had been saving the ARC I received of Mitali Perkins’ new YA novel Secret Keeper for a treat and because I thought that a review closer to the time of publication would be more helpful to readers. In December I succumbed, and read it.

Such a powerful story! It’s something of a romance, and I so wanted everything to turn out just like the fairy tales. And yet I felt as I read that it couldn’t really have a traditional happy ending and that it couldn’t have been written in any other way. Secret Keeper is a tale of love and loss, of traditional family and of new ways and mores creeping into and disrupting the old conventions. It’s a story that bridges cultures and creates understanding and makes even WASPs like me feel a twinge of identification with the characters and their very human situations.

The main character of the novel is sixteen year old Asha, the younger of two daughters in the Gupta family. As the story opens, Asha, her sister Reet, and their mother are on a train headed for a visit of indeterminate length with their Baba’s family in Calcutta. Baba (Father) himself is in America looking for work, having lost his job as a result of the economic difficulties in India in the early 1970’s, the time period for the book. Asha is not sure how the small family will manage to fit into her uncle’s household in Calcutta even for the short amount of time she expects them to stay before Baba send for them to join him in the U.S. Asha’s grandmother lives with Asha’s uncle’s very traditional family, and the three women will be three more mouths to feed, unable to make much, if any, contribution to the welfare of the family. As events unfold, Asha depends on her diary, nicknamed Secret Keeper, to hold her thoughts and dreams and to keep her sane in a tension-filled household.

Girls, especially those who are trying to balance responsibilities to family and to themselves, will find Asha to be a sympathetic character and a role model. When she is faced with a crisis, she makes the best decision she can both for herself and for her small family, and even though her solution to the family’s problems is imperfect and open to criticism, it is the difficulty of her decision that makes the family strong again and renews their bonds, bonds that have been stretched to the breaking point.

I really think that this book is Ms. Perkins’ best book to date, an exploration of cultural norms and changing roles, of responsibility to self and to family, and of flawed but loving answers to difficult issues. I highly recommend Secret Keeper, available in bookstores and from Amazon starting today. (Click on the book cover to order from Amazon.)

Other reviewers:

Book Embargo: “It was a beautiful book.. (haven’t I said that already?) But it really was. The family dynamics, with the father gone to America, the mother and two sisters left to live with relatives. The money problems, the Indian culture, it was all so beautifully written and described.”

Christmas in Hankow, China, 1925

“What I liked best about Christmas was that for a whole day grown-ups seemed to agree to take time of from being grown-ups. At six-thirty sharp when I burst into my parents’ room, yelling, ‘Merry Christmas!,’ they both laughed and jumped right up as if six-thirty wasn’t an early hour at all. By the time we came downstairs, the servants were lined up in the hall dressed in their best. ‘Gung-shi.’ They bowed. ‘Gung-shi. Gung-shi.’ This was the way Chinese offered congratulations on special occasions, and the greeting, as it was repeated, sounded like little bells tinkling.

Lin Nai-Nai, however, didn’t ‘gung-shi.’ For months she had been waiting for this day. She stepped forward. ‘Merry Christmas,’ she said just as if she could have said anything in English that she wanted to. I was so proud. I took her hand as we trooped into the living room. My father lighted the tree and he distributed the first gifts of the day—red envelopes filled with money for the servants. After a flurry of more ‘gung-shis,’ the servants left and there were the three of us in front of a huge mound of packages. All mysteries.” ~Homesick by Jean Fritz

Interview with Author Andrea White

Andrea White is the author of three books for young people: Surviving Antarctica, Radiant Girl, and Window Boy. She’s also involved in community efforts to keep kids in school until they graduate, and she’s married to Mayor Bill White of Houston, Texas, which happens to be my home also. I emailed her these interview questions, and she very kindly took the time to answer. Enjoy.

Eldest Daughter says every good interview begins with the question: what did you have for breakfast? I like to humor her, so what is your breakfast of choice?
I never had pomegranates until five years or so ago and now I love them. I heap a spoon of pomegranates on cereal from the bins at Whole Foods.

I think it’s fascinating and kind of cool that the mayor of my city is married to a writer of children’s books. How did you get started writing children’s fiction? And the perennial question, why do you write for children and young adults rather than adults?
I wrote three novels for adults, never published, but found I was better at writing for kids. I’m only an average prose stylist but I have a better than average imagination. Besides, I love going to schools and talking to kids.

I’ve read and enjoyed all three of your published books, Surviving Antartica, Window Boy, and Radiant Girl. They all have such different settings: a future dystopia mostly in Antarctica, the life of a boy with cerebral palsy in the late 1960’s, and finally Chernobyl in 1986. What led you to these widely different times and places? Didn’t it take an enormous amount of research to get each setting right?
The truth is–you never know where you ideas will come from. When I talk to kids, I always remind them that ideas can start really small. Ideas don’t necessarily come in fancy, wrapped packages. Nor are they accompanied by a fireworks display. They can be just a flash of insight that will lead you to interesting places you’ve never even dreamed of. The idea for Surviving Antarctica took root after I read, The Worst Journey in the World, by Aspley Cherry Garrard. He was a surviving member of the Robert Scott expedition. I grew fascinated by the Scott’s team attempt to be the first to reach the South Pole. When you write a book for children or adolescents, they have to be at the center of the action; and in a sane world, parents would never let their kids go to Antarctica alone. That’s when I decided to make up a new world. In 2083, public schools have closed. Kids watch school on television. History is taught through Survivor, Math through Dialing for Dollars and English through Tela Novelas. There are two moons in the sky, the natural moon and one that advertisers installed.
I got the idea for Radiant Girl, my most recent book about the Chernobyl disaster, from a photograph I saw on the Internet. The photo showed a girl on a motorcycle in the Dead Zone–where towns and families once flourished–and when I saw that picture of the girl I knew I wanted to write about Chernobyl. The inscription was, “As I pass through the checkpoint into the Dead Zone, I feel like I have entered an unreal world. It is divinely eerie like the Salvador Dali painting of the dripping clocks.”
With Window Boy, I was reading a biography of Winston Churchill by William Manchester. There was one sentence in the book that caught my attention. It said–Churchill had no problem standing up to Hitler, because as a child he fought the hardest enemy anyone ever has to beat–the despair that comes from being an unloved child. I decided in that moment that I wanted to write a book about Churchill. I didn’t have a plot, but I also knew I wanted to write about basketball because my son loves basketball and I wanted him to read my book. Then, one afternoon I picked up a New York Times Magazine and on the cover was a picture of a boy in a wheelchair. When I saw him, I knew I wanted him to be my main character. I had my plot when I asked myself what would happen if a boy in a wheelchair wanted to play basketball. If a boy like that had a dream that big, he could use an imaginary friend like Winston Churchill.

Your books are educational without being didactic. I think, having read some books lately that are oppressively educational, that education in a story is a hard balance to pull off. Do you think about that balance as you write? How do you keep the story the main thing?

I take it as a personal challenge to help middle-schoolers learn about big subjects like Chernobyl and Winston Churchchill. And to do that you have to make history come alive for them. A nuclear explosion would not be something that a teenager would be thinking about unless you mix some fantasy in with it. In the Ukraine, folk tales abounded. One story was about the domovky, or house elf, and I asked myself what would happen if the domovky warned the girl about the explosion.
As to research, I love it and want to tell the story as accurately as possible. And, that was not easy with Radiant Girl. When the explosion happened, Ukraine was part of the Soviet Union. The Soviet Union was not a transparent society, and even with an independent Ukraine, information about this catastrophic event is inconsistent and murky.
So I felt it was very important to go and see it for myself. I went to Chernobyl and met a wonderful guide named Rimma. Although no one is allowed to live in the Dead Zone, some people work there two weeks on and two weeks off, and tourists can visit with special permission. Rimma showed me many places. We went to the ghost town of Pripyat. We entered empty schools with lessons still on the blackboard and graded papers scattered on the ground.
She took me to that bright yellow Ferris wheel in Pripyat, a city near Chernobyl; it never had a chance to turn. Since my character, Katya, climbed this yellow Ferris wheel–so did I. (Or almost.) Let me tell you, never in my wildest dreams would I have believed that I would climb a Ferris wheel in Pripyat, Ukraine.
When I got back to Houston, I had a million more questions and I emailed Rimma, but I didn’t hear back. I made some inquiries and after several months found out that she had died of a stroke. She was a healthy-looking 46-year old. I don’t know and will never know if her death was related to the higher levels of radiation caused by the explosion; she was in and out of the Dead Zone regularly since it happened. Although my encounter with her was brief, I won’t forget her or her friendship.
I continued my research, but still had many questions about the Ukraine. Everything from–what first names should I use for my characters? What kind of cars did they drive in 1986 when the explosion occurred? How would my fictional family, Ukrainians who lived in a small village, celebrate Katya’s birthday? There were so many details I had to get right.
I was at a cocktail party one evening in Houston and ran into someone I knew; he had with him a woman with a lovely accent. I asked her here she was from—and yes, she was from the Ukraine.
Tetyana is a brilliant woman who is studying to become a doctor. She was a young girl living in Kiev at the time of Chernobyl. She remembered that day well. She said she still doesn’t understand it from a scientific standpoint, but on that day, the streets of Kiev went absolutely quiet. Even the leaves drooped.
Katya Radiant Girl
Her father was an employee of a government agency like FEMA, and he instructed her mother and her to leave Kiev and go to the countryside. Her father had to return to the Dead Zone, and just like Katya’s father he died of thyroid cancer from exposure to radiation. Radiant Girl is dedicated to Tetyana’s father and the thousands of others like him.
This is the picture that Tatiana drew of Katya.

And, of course, what can we expect to see next from Andrea White? (Whatever it is, I’m looking forward to it. I’ve become a fan.)
I try to write every day. My current book is called Time Cops. It’s about an academy where kids learn to time travel. Here’s the opening paragraph:

“The Zone, an invisible structure, rose several hundred feet above the Lower D.C. slum. Were you to strip the cloaking paint from the building it would appear as a series of spoked wheels, one atop the other. The base, constrained by a gray xiathium fence, widened above the fence line, then narrowed again to a tower that rose to a sharp peak topped by a sphere. External stairwells and crenellated walks linked each storey; the whole edifice resembling a medieval castle made of machine parts. A stranger, on seeing it, might think he had found the inner engine of a monumental watch ticking silently in the midst of squalor.
Of course, no one can see time itself. No more than any stranger could see the Zone. Anymore than he or anyone else could view what went on inside that monumental watch. A watch made up of Chronos operatives—the moving parts of the machinery. The guardians of Time. Monks. Fanatics. Worshippers. But they prefer Time cops or just plain cops. They’re on the job. For you. For me. For our children. Our children’s children. Through the centuries.”

Read more about Andrea White and her books at her website, Andrea White, Author.

Semicolon review of Window Boy by Andrea White.

Review of Radiant Girl by Melissa at Book Nut.

Review of Surviving Antarctica by Melanie at The Indextrious Reader.

Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin

“The first time you share tea with a Balti, you are a stranger. The second time you take tea. you are an honored guest. The third time you share a cup of tea, you become family, and for our family, we are prepared to do anything, even die,” he said, laying his hand warmly on Mortenson’s own. “Doctor Greg, you must make time to share three cups of tea. We may be uneducated. But we are not stupid. We have lived and survived here for a long time.”

Subtitled One Man’s Mission to Promote Peace One School at a Time, this book was both inspiring and disappointing at the same time. Greg Mortenson was a mountain climber who attempted and failed to climb K2, the second highest mountain in the world found in the northern regions of Pakistan (Baltistan). While he was in this remote area of Pakistan, Greg was inspired to begin a one-man mission to build schools there, especially schools for girls, most of whom were not getting any kind of education.

As the son of Lutheran missionaries, Mortenson grew up in Africa as an MK, and even after they returned to the U.S. neither Greg nor his parents were exactly rich according to American standards. So Mortenson, living out of his car, began his campaign to build schools for girls in northern Pakistan by writing letters on an antiquated typewriter to every celebrity, famous person, or potential donor he could think to write. He explained what he wanted to do, wrote something like 600 letters, and got no response. A Pakistani expatriate who owned a copy store taught Mortenson how to use a computer and a word processing program, and he wrote more letters. Still no response.

Finally, he connected with one rich, sort of eccentric, donor, and he went to Pakistan with $30,000 to build his first school in the mountain village of Korphe. That one school was only the beginning, and that’s a capsule version of the inspiring part.

The disappointing part was that, as much as I admire what Greg Mortenson has done and continues to do, I think he is mistaken to put his trust in education alone. He seems to have left his Christianity behind in a quest change the world through education. Education is a wonderful thing. Education may be the best, perhaps the only thing, that can be done for the girls and boys of Pakistan and Afghanistan, given their cultural and religious heritage. So, I applaud Greg Mortenson and his organization CAI for what they have done and for what they continue to do.

However, I first of all agree with this reviewer at Amazon who opines that boys need education just as much as girls do. Read his exposition for a look at why educating just girls or girls in preference to boys may be counter-productive and produce civil unrest instead of the peace we all want.

Secondly, education without a Christian moral foundation produces only educated fools, according to the Bible and according to historical experience. I can name many individuals and groups of individuals who have been highly educated and also committed to evil goals and foolish ideals. An education does not guarantee peaceful intent, and neither does a change for the better in socio-economic class. No matter how much we as Americans may want to think that we can change the world by improving people’s standard of living and giving them books, it will have only limited success. Do I believe that making poor people richer and giving young people a chance at an education is a goal worth working for, and donating to? Yes, I do. However, according to CAI’s website, “The best hope for a peaceful and prosperous world lies in the education of all the world’s children.”

No, our hope does not lie in education. Without Christ, the change in a culture that is produced by education is only cosmetic and unlikely to produce the kind of lasting political change that we as Americans would like to see. People can be educated, even educated using funds donated by Americans, and still hate us. We should give and do good because it’s the right thing to do, not because we expect that a school building and classes and clean water will make them quit believing the mullahs who tell them that we are godless infidels. I know it’s unpalatable and controversial, but education is not God.

The book itself is decently written, and the story is absorbing. The idea that one person can have an idea and do something important to make the world a better place and the details of that idea working out in one man’s life are inspiring, as I said. Don’t expect great literature; do expect the story of a great life.

Canada Day: Reading Through Canada

July 1 is Canada Day. Here are some suggestions, mostly fiction, if you’re ready to celebrate with a good book:

Picture Books:

Bannatyne-Cugnet, Jo. A Prairie Alphabet. Illustrated by Yvette Moore.
Carney, Margaret. At Grandpa’s Sugar Bush. Illustrated by Janet Wilson.
Carrier, Roch. The Hockey Sweater. Illustrated by Sheldon Cohen.
Gay, Marie-Louise. Stella, Queen of the Snow. Illus. Groundwood, 2000.
Ellis, Sarah. Next Stop! Illus. by Ruth Ohi. Fitzhenry & Whiteside, 2000.
Harrison, Ted. A Northern Alphabet.
Kurelek, William. A Prairie Boy’s Winter.
Kurelek, William. A Prairie Boy’s Summer.
McFarlane, Sheryl. Jessie’s Island. Illustrated by Sheena Lott. Orca Book Publishers, 2005.
Service, Robert. The Cremation of Sam McGee. Illustrated by Ted Harrison.

Children’s Fiction:

Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery, of course and all its sequels. Essential Canadiana.
Our Canadian Girl and Dear Canada series.
Curtis, Christopher Paul. Elijah of Buxton. Semicolon review here.
Hobbs, Will. Far North.
Mowat, Farley. Lost in the Barrens.
Mowat, Farley. Owls in the Family.
Stanbridge, Joanne. The Leftover Kid. Northern Lights, 1997.

YA and Adult Fiction:

Craven, Margaret. I Heard the Owl Call My Name.
Freedman, Benedict and Nancy. Mrs. Mike.
Mitchell, W.O. Who Has Seen the Wind?

I haven’t read all of these, but I plan to, whenever I can manage to find time for a Canada Project.

Ian McKenzie’s Top Twenty Ways to Tell If You’re Canadian.

More Canadian books, mostly for kids by Becky at Farm School.

Celebrating Literary Canada at Chasing Ray earlier this year.

Any more Canadian book suggestions?

Stolen Lives by Malika Oufkir and Michele Fitoussi

Stolen Lives: Twenty Years in a Desert Jail by Malika Oufkir and Michele Fitoussi.

Recommended by Laura at Musings: “In 1972, Moroccan defense minister General Mohamed Oufkir staged a failed coup d’etat against King Hassan II. Oufkir was reported to have committed suicide, but was found with five bullet wounds. In retaliation for the coup, his entire family was imprisoned: Oufkir’s wife, Fatima, and his children Malika, Raouf, Soukaina, Maria, Myriam, and Abdellatif. A cousin, Achoura, and a close family friend, Halima, joined them. Malika Oufkir was 17 years old; her brother Abdellatif was only 3.”

This nonfiction account of a family kept in cruel and unusual confinement in the desert of Morocco reminded me of nothing so much as Charles Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities. The Oufkir family were so badly treated and so cut off from the world for so very long that they, like the fictional Dr. Manette, were impaired in body, mind and soul when they were finally freed from the prisons of King Hassan II.

Malika Oufkir’s story is that of the spoiled rich girl brought low by injustice and subsequently redeemed through suffering and finally freed to appreciate a new life and love. It’s a classic plot, and the fact that it’s a true story, as trustworthy as memoirs can be these days, makes it all the more compelling. Some parts of the story are difficult to believe: Malika says that as a nineteen year old, educated and well-travelled, she had no idea that her father was a murderer and a tyrant. Perhaps not, but then again, maybe she chose her own blind spots. She also describes scenes of treatment so horrendous during the twenty years of her imprisonment that I would choose to disbelieve her testimony if I could, not wanting to believe that man can be so cruel to his fellowman. Western law embodies the principle that no person’s family should be punished for that person’s crimes. Malika, her mother, and her five brothers and sisters are cruelly punished for the crimes of Malika’s father, a fate that Ms. Oufkir says was not uncommon in Morocco under Hassan II.

An amazing story human resilience and courage. Read it and weep.

African Food for Africans Who Are Starving?

In Ethiopia in 2003, for example, widespread drought occurred in the low-lying areas of the country and the very dry northern highlands. Some 12 million to 15 million people were at risk of hunger and starvation. But in the central and southern highlands of Ethiopia, farmers were producing a bumper crop of corn and other cereals. Yet with no market for the locally produced grains, prices collapsed.

If USAID could have purchased and helped distribute some of this excess, up to 500,000 small farmers would have benefited, as well as the millions at risk of starvation. But its only option was to import surplus food grain from the U.S.”

Right now I’m reading Timothy Egan’s book about the Dust Bowl of the 1930’s in which millions of pounds of wheat, a bumper crop grown on the Great Plains in 1929 and 1930, sat in or near silos and rotted because the prices went down, and the wheat was worth less than it cost to produce. I don’t understand how this happens exactly, especially when people in the cities began to have trouble feeding their families at about the same time because of the collapse of the U.S. economy.

Eventually, under FDR, the U.S. government did purchase some of the surplus wheat and other grain crops and distribute it to the hungry during the Great Depression. But the dust storms and the lack of income for those first two years caused the farmers to go bankrupt and their land to lie fallow.

Now in this Wall Street Journal article, two food experts say that we, the U.S., are causing much the same problem as what helped to create the Great Depression in our food aid program in Africa.

The Bush administration has urged, rightly, that the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID) be allowed to buy food locally, particularly in Africa, instead of only American-grown food.

The U.S. government currently buys grain and other foodstuffs from American farmers for free distribution in poor countries where a disaster has occurred, or sells it in food-deficit nations to generate funds for food-security development programs. Under the law, the food must be shipped almost exclusively on American vessels.”

Why is Congress opposing this change in policy? Why not buy food there for distribution there and use our own grain surpluses here? Or sell the grain “surpluses” to the highest bidder since there seems to be a food shortage that I keep reading about? Is there something I’m not seeing?

The Bookseller of Kabul by Asne Seierstad


The Bookseller of Kabul–Seierstad. Recommended at Bookfest.

The Bookseller of Kabul is a nonfiction account of the lives of a real family in Kabul, Afghanistan. Journalist Asne Seierstad lived with the family for four months as a guest, welcomed by the patriarch of the family, a man she calls “Khan” in her story. Unfortunately, her first impression of Khan as a liberal, forward-thinking Afghan intellectual changed as she came to know his family and his family interactions. In particular, it becomes quite clear, although Ms. Seierstad does not include herself as a player or even an observer in the book, that she was appalled by the treatment of women in Khan’s family and in Afghan society as a whole. She describes how Khan takes a sixteen year old second wife and exiles his first wife to Pakistan to take care of his business affairs there. She also shows the way the other women in the family, especially Khan’s sister Leila, are trapped and limited by the circumstances and assumptions that are taken for granted in Afghan family life, at least in this particular Afghan family.

Khan, whose real name Shah Mohammed Rais was rather obvious to anyone who actually lived in Kabul, read the book after it was published and immediately screamed bloody murder. From a New York Times article December 21, 2003:

Seierstad lived with the family for four months, and then wrote a detailed account of the experience — in which she portrayed the bookseller as a liberal intellectual in public but a tyrant to his family. This summer, Rais received a copy of the book in English. And then the trouble began. Furious at what he viewed as Seierstad’s misrepresentations and betrayal of his hospitality, he vowed to sue her for libel in a Norwegian court. He wants damages and a cut of the profits from ”The Bookseller of Kabul,” which became an international best seller (and the most successful nonfiction book in Norway’s history).

I don’t know what Mr. Rais expected Ms. Seierstad to write. Perhaps she flattered him and lied to him and implied that she approved of his polygamous lifestyle and autocratic family governance. At any rate, according to Wikipedia as of 2005, Rais has “declared he was seeking asylum in either Norway or Sweden, as a political refugee. Things revealed about him in Seierstad’s book had made life for him and his family unsafe in Afghanistan.”

This Salon article calls Ms. Seierstad “The Hypocrite of Kabul” and accuses her of cultural insensitivity. However, the same author Anne Marlow, writes approvingly of Khaled Hosseini’s novel The Kite Runner. I guess she hadn’t had a chance to read Mr. Hosseini’s second novel, A Thousand Splendid Suns in which he directly engages with the tradition and practice of Afghan subjugation and mistreatment of women.

Did Asne Seierstad betray the hospitality offered to her by writing frankly and disparagingly of the family with whom she shared a home for four months? Probably. I wouldn’t have written a book about such a family without at least spending a lot more time and energy disguising the main characters.

Are the women of the Rais family mistreated by my (Western) standards? Absolutely. And I would defend cultural standards that allow women to leave the house without covering their faces and to receive an education and to be more than household slaves, as standards that should prevail in both the East and the West, human standards.

The slave owners in the South didn’t like Harriet Beecher Stowe’s book messing with their “way of life” either. On the other hand, she wrote fiction, not a poorly disguised invasion of privacy.

Insightful and illuminating but voyeuristic.