Book Review: ‘A Thousand Splendid Suns’


I had to share my thoughts on this brilliant novel and insist that you order ‘A Thousand Splendid Suns’ by Khaled Hosseini from the Book Depository asap.

A good story with poor writing sells. Just look at the Twilight series or ’50 Shades of Grey’ – poorly written but has a great story-line. However, every so often there is a powerful, thought-provoking story told by a brilliant writer and story-teller. In my opinion, that is ‘A Thousand Splendid Suns’.

The story spans over 30 years from 1963 to 2003 during the Afghan war and revolves around two Afghani women who’s paths eventually cross. It’s so well-written. I could even describe Hosseini’s writing style as ‘simple’ – it’s easy to read with short, punchy sentences and lots of verbs to create strong imagery.

Above all, this story made me reflect on my own life and truly appreciate what I have. Sometimes the busy Sydney lifestyle can get me down – the rat-race at work, the hustle and bustle of the city, the fast paced nature of life. But somewhere out there, there are girls who are denied education. They aren’t allowed to read, learn, wear nail polish, wear their hair out or write a blog. They will never be able to work in large corporations and live independently…. So now whenever I feel a bit tired and over the frenetic pace of city-life, I will remind myself of those girls who don’t have the same choices and opportunities are me…. And pick myself up and keep going for their sake, at least.

I highly recommend that you sit down with a cup of tea and read this book. It won’t take you long because you just won’t be able to put it down. Oh and have a box of tissues handy – you will cry. A lot. But it’s worth it.

Maadz xox

Some memorable quotes:
‘There the future did not matter. And the past held only this wisdom; that love was a damaging mistake, and it’s accomplice, love, was a treacherous illusion.’

‘Marriage can wait, education cannot.’

‘She would never leave her mark on Mammy’s heart the way her brothers had because Mammy’s heart was like a pallid beach where Laila’s footprints would forever wash away beneath the waves of sowrow that swelled and crashed, swelled and crashed.’

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