What about the relationship between Amir and his servant, Hassan, a friendship that nearly transcends class lines but does not in the end. Was that based on something from your own life?
There was a Hazara man who worked for my family for a couple of years and he was much older, 38. We became pretty good friends. He helped me fly kites and I helped him learn how to read; it was a lovely relationship and he eventually went away. The really striking thing was that I finished [writing] the entire novel without once consciously thinking of him. And then when I was done I said, "Oh my God, of course that's where this character comes from!" -- which was startling to me, the powers of the subconscious.
In the story, the character of Amir spends much of his young adulthood regretting his youthful actions, his bad choices and their lifelong consequences. Are the movie's themes of betrayal and cowardice drawn from your own experience too?
You don't want to draw too many parallels, but if there's a theme in the book that I have felt in real life it is having led a somewhat comfortable, privileged life amid real poverty and amid people who face a life of hardships. There's a line in the novel and film where Amir says, "I feel like a tourist in my own country," and I felt that way when I went back to Afghanistan [for the first time] after 27 years. There was a sense of coming home and at the same time I felt like an outsider and a tourist.
When Amir goes back to Afghanistan, after some 27 years, and rights his wrongs, the book -- and now the movie -- takes on a redemptive theme. Your second book, "A Thousand Splendid Suns," for which Columbia Pictures owns the movie rights with an eye toward a 2009 release, also ends with redemption. Hollywood loves redemption. Did you envision the cinematic possibilities of an uplifting ending when you wrote the books?
I never thought "The Kite Runner" would make a good film. It felt to me that so much of the action was internal, was inside of this guy's head, and that the meat of the book was the grappling inside Amir's mind about his identity, the things he's done, about who he is. It wasn't until I read [back over] the novel a couple of more times that I saw that there was a cinematic quality about it. When I'm writing, I need to see exactly how the scene is choreographed and where characters are in relation to each other. I guess that lends itself to cinematic adaptation.
How in the world will they make "A Thousand Splendid Suns" into a film? Its depictions of cruelty to and abuse of women by their family members and the government in Afghanistan are probably even more horrific than even the most disturbing images in "The Kite Runner."
In terms of controversy in the Afghan community, I think that book is more palatable. There are issues [addressed in the book] about women, but the issues about ethnic tension are the sensitive ones in Afghanistan. If that film is ever made, I don't think we'll be facing the same sort of controversy.
In the film of "The Kite Runner," even though the rape is not explicitly shown -- we only see the boy's pants coming down -- there were rumors in Afghanistan that the studio planned to use computer animation to create CGI genitals and make the scene more graphic. There have been threats against the actors. An online petition was launched to "save the 'Kite Runner' boys." Had you anticipated that the rape scene would be problematic?
I thought it would raise eyebrows, but if anybody, either me or in the production, thought it would lead to the actors actually fearing for their lives, I don't think anyone would have gone forward. Certainly, they would not have cast actors from Afghanistan. The controversy reflects that things in Afghanistan have changed to some extent, certainly in the last year or two. Things have become more violent. It's a more dangerous place than it was. It has slid back and there's a new element of criminality and violence there.
Would you have advocated cutting the scene to protect the children?
I don't see how you could maintain the integrity of the film if you removed the scene. You'd pretty much have to scrap the whole thing. The scene is pivotal. Without it the story falls apart because, in many ways, that moment, the act in the alley, is so reprehensible -- a simple punching wouldn't have the same effect. It would really strain the limits of plausibility if this guy [Amir] were now marked for life [emotionally], with all the years of carrying the guilt. The scene is necessary, but I think you have to look at the film in a more panoramic way and not let one scene stand for the whole film.
I'm confused by the Afghan response. I've read of Afghans saying, "Rape is a taboo subject in Afghanistan, as is homosexuality" and "the culture and religion look down on those things." Doesn't showing the rape of a Hazara by a Pashtun reveal an underpublicized discrimination against an Afghan minority group by the dominant, majority ethnic group? Weren't you revealing the atrocities, not condoning them?
How anybody can see this film and walk away with the conclusion that it supports rape is unfathomable to me. This is a film that denounces what happened in that alley, not one that endorses it. It brings to light some of the terrible things that have happened in that country. The scene is pivotal, but the film is not about that scene. It's not about sexual predators.
Do you worry that the movie version of your novel, with its potential to create empathy, has been eclipsed by this controversy?
I hope this controversy hasn't overshadowed the fact that this is a film about good things -- about the virtues of tolerance, friendship, brotherhood and love and harmony -- and that it speaks against violence. There's a lovely scene in the film where Amir, in a moment of distress and personal anguish, goes to a mosque and prays. How many times have we seen Muslim characters in a film pray -- in that kind of very spiritual moment, piously? Usually when they do, in the next scene they're blowing something up. And I'm proud of the fact that Muslims around the world will see this character performing this ritual exactly in the way that it was meant to be performed.
About the writer
Erika Milvy is a freelance writer in the San Francisco Bay Area.
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