The Kite Runner

Very rarely does a book capture my heart and imagination so much that I can't put it down even to sleep. So as I pulled out a book to read before falling asleep last night, I was quickly drawn into the story and knew that I would have to stay awake to finish it. It was a struggle--wanting to get through the story quickly so I could know what happened and go to bed, yet also wanting to savour Khaled Hosseini's simple, but profound diction and plot line. He really grasped the English language, and was successful at manipulating words to speak mountains of meaning.

At a few points, the story drew tears from my eyes when the main character would experience deep regret, or grief, or loss. It was a story about childhood friendship, kinship, and misunderstandings made to be understood. The character went from being weak and defeatable to strong and courageous. And it was knowledge that gave him courage: Knowledge of the truth and of the past. Following his journey throughout the years and through the places, Kabul, Afghanistan, to Fremont, California, and back to Pakistan and Kabul before finally going to the United States, I realized how privileged I am to be raised in a country that is at peace.

Sometimes I wonder if we find it hard to understand what real peace is because we have never experienced war. At times I think I have grasped at it, but what does it really mean to know the peace the passeth all understanding?

Reading this book has changed my life. It is one that will keep me thinking for a while longer.

p.s. In Grade 3, I never would have imagined writing book reports for pleasure. And whilst this is one that could be much improved, I finally understand why we learned to write book reports back in third grade--it helps us understand the writing and the author and his motivations. Most importantly, it allows books to change our lives.

Remembrance Day

I never understood Remembrance Day fully. I knew there were men and women who had bravely fought for our country--many who had sacrificed their lives on earth, but for those remaining, their personalities due to post-traumatic stress disorders and their healthy, functional bodies. I always held respect for them, but it never touched me deeply. After all, I was only an immigrant, one who had come to Canada because it was already free.

This summer, I did a lot of research on Chinese Canadian history and discovered that the Chinese who fought in World War II, for a country that hardly accepted them and did not allow them to vote or become citizens, opened up the ground for Chinese people to be considered citizens. Within Chinese communities in Canada, the debate of whether to fight or not was hotly contested. On one side, there were those who claimed that since Canada did not accept them as citizens, why should they fight for this country? The other side answered, "If we do not fight, then we will never be accepted as Canadians."

For the Chinese Canadians who entered the war to give future Chinese Canadians a voice and the right to vote, I thank you for your sacrifices. May your memories be honoured and your courage never forgotten in the hearts of today's Chinese Canadians.