To Myself by W.S. Merwin

"Even when I forget you
I go on looking for you
I believe I would know you
I keep remembering you
sometimes long ago but then
other times I am sure you
were here for a moment before
and the air is still alive
around where you were and I
think then I can recognize
you who are always the same
who pretend to be time but
you are not time and who speak
in the words but you are not
what they say you who are not
lost when I do not find you"

The first response I receive from this poem is the choppy–ness of it. The first four lines start out nicely, ending the phrase with a complete thought. Nevertheless, slowly it moves from smooth connected thoughts, to a more frantic phrasing (sometimes long ago but then… other times I am sure you… were here for a moment before) and ending in near incomprehensible words (what they say you who are not… lost when I do not find you.) However it is the last phrase “I do not find you” that jumps out at me (I would warrant that would be climax.)

But luckily, I did not despair at the complexity, but was rather intrigued at what an Author would want to say in such a masked way, for does not the poet write but to lead the reader to be understood? Re-reading (several times) the poem reveals the search that Merwin wants the reader to feel. Reading the disconnected run-on thought (for me) expresses the convoluted thoughts on his search for “you who are always the same…who pretend to be time but you are not time…” From this, one can interpret that this is his search for an other worldly power or state (supported by him being a devout Buddhist according to Poets.org). “Who speak in the words, but you are not what they say, you who are not lost when I do not find you.” [Punctuation added] The Words, or perhaps teachings, contain a piece of the searchéd, but is not contained, and is not dependent on the searcher if not found.

The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini

           What a horribly fascinating book. It has been quite a long time since I have read a novel in which the main character has real problems and defects within himself, not outside.  Most books out there, especially fiction, but other genera too, make the main characters so that they can do no wrong. Sure, they may make a wrong choice, but there is always an excuse that saves them from being bad. Amir, on the other hand, is given a choice, but fails (literally) miserably, which haunts him the rest of his life.

            What I really admire about the story is how Hosseini lures one into feeling for Amir. The perfectly timed phrases, like the reoccurring “a thousand times over,” bring memories of other characters, which in turn brings a sense of reality to the reader. Then there are the memories themselves, which collectively reveal the true nature of all the characters within the book. Finally, the descriptive nature of Hosseini’s style brings all the events into clear focus, moving the reality up one more notch, almost but-not-quite to sureality.

            The only thing that I found that I disliked was the lessening realism toward the end. Everything was flowing smoothly (as in it made sense, not that the events were smooth) until (spoiler alert!) Sohrab attempts suicide. From there, the main characters no longer seem as true within their nature. Sohrab, for example, goes from being able to take care of himself (nailing a thug in the eye) to a wisp of a person. To me, if this was how Sohrab responded to the orphanage news, then he would have committed suicide far earlier, at least when Assef got his hands on him. At first Sohrab is strong, but overnight becomes weak.

            On the whole I greatly…experienced (enjoy would not work for it was not full of joy, but pain and redemption) this book and would suggest it to anyone else for its richness in style and culture.