Sunday, March 18, 2012
Insight paragraph
In the passage I chose to analyze, I included a link attached to Mariam's name, explaining what the meaning of it is. From the variety of websites I found, the most accepted meaning was "bitter." At an early age, Mariam did not seem bitter at all, but that changed when her mother died. When she found out the truth behind her father Jalil's opinion of her, and when she was forced to marry a man she had never met, that bitterness hiding inside her from the point of her birth, had finally been released. That bitterness grew as the hardships on the Afghan people grew, and those hardships were the result of constant change in Kabul, change that the people had no power over, change that was decided only by war an bloodshed, instead of peace and talk. Mariam became bitter at her lack of power over her life. Her life was decided for her by others, based on the sole guideline of being a harami, and an orphan. A life with guidelines like those is no life at all, and Mariam knew this herself, which is why she became so bitter. When Laila entered her life, Mariam was still bitter from the hardships she had faced. The name Laila means "beauty" (http://www.thinkbabynames.com/meaning/0/Laila). It is as if Mariam's life finally had some beauty in it, and that beauty washed away all of her bitterness.
Synthesis paragraph
In the passage of Mariam's thoughts, important themes such as change, and birthright were analyzed. Hosseini included these two themes to show the difficulties of living in Afghanistan, but they are also intertwined, and they both relate to each other. In Afghanistan, change is a constant factor in the lives of the afghan people, and the quality of their lives is dependent on which group is in control. But their lives are also dependent on their birthright, which is in turn controlled by whichever group is in control. Here in the United States it is perfectly fine to be a "harami," in fact, it happens a lot. But in Afghanistan, society is cruel to harami's. That same cruel society has its morals written by whichever power is in control. Instead of it being something that the people create based on a wide variety of beliefs, it is controlled by the political group in power. The power to decide what society is like in a country creates an opening for oppression and despair, an opening that has been exploited far too many times in Afghanistan.
"a harami like her would never see"
When Mariam thinks of her life, she wishes it was better, as anyone would in her situation. The difference between Mariam and anybody else, is that she cannot escape it. Being born a "harami' in Afghan society means being outcasted by everyone who knows who you are, and having an embargo from a happy life placed upon you at birth. Even her own mother, Nana, who loved her dearly, knows what life for Mariam will become, and that it will only be one of pain and suffering. In my last link, I spoke about what living in Afghan society is like, and the constant change that one has to deal with. Hosseini wants to illustrate the fact that the peoples lives are not only governed by war, but also by the day they are born. A harami is born into a terrible life, and is denied basic human rights, but it is something that they cannot escape from, it is as if they are damned as soon as they are born. Mariam's mother, Nana, knew this, and she was trying to prepare her for it, but no amount of preparation can save someone from such a terrible life.
"presidents in Kabul had been inaugurated and murdered"
When Hosseini writes about Mariam's thoughts, he includes the information about Kabul's presidents, and how they had been constantly murdered and then inaugurated once again, but Mariam had "hardly noticed, hardly cared." These events are not something that most people would find normal, in fact, if one of our presidents were to be murdered, it would be talked about for years. However, in the Afghan society that Mariam lives in, things like these are hardly rare, they are common occurrences. One could look at the sentence as not just political power changing, but the entirety of Afghanistan changing with it, constantly. This is something that the people have learned to live with, and it is part of their every day life. Change does not just occur in political power, but in the laws, religion, and standards that govern the lives of these people, and they are powerless to control it. Their lives are decided by the constant wars in Afghanistan, and the presidential power is just one of the outcomes of these wars. Hosseini includes this information to remind us of that change, and how it affects the people, which is a major theme in the book.
Monday, March 12, 2012
Passage Twelve
A Thousand Splendid Suns, Passage Twelve (Chapter 35 – pages 255-256)
Mariam did not sleep that night. She sat in bed, watched the snow falling soundlessly.
Seasons had come and gone; presidents in Kabul had been inaugurated and murdered; an empire had been defeated; old wars had ended and new ones had broken out. But Mariam had hardly noticed, hardly cared. She had passed these years in a distant corner of her mind A dry, barren field, out beyond wish and lament, beyond dream and disillusionment There, the future did not matter. And the past held only this wisdom: that love was a damaging mistake, and its accomplice, hope, a treacherous illusion. And whenever those twin poisonous flowers began to sprout in the parched land of that field, Mariam uprooted them. She uprooted them and ditched them before they took hold.
But somehow, over these last months, Laila and Aziza - a harami like herself, as it turned out - had become extensions of her, and now, without them, the life Mariam had tolerated for so long suddenly seemed intolerable.
We're leaving this spring, Aziza and I. Come with us, Mariam.
The years had not been kind to Mariam. But perhaps, she thought, there were kinder years waiting still. A new life, a life in which she would find the blessings that Nana had said a harami like her would never see. Two new flowers had unexpectedly sprouted in her life, and, as Mariam watched the snow coming down, she pictured Mullah Faizullah twirling his tasbeh beads, leaning in and whispering to her in his soft, tremulous voice, But it is God Who has planted them, Mariam jo. And it is His will that you tend to them. It is His will, my girl.
Mariam did not sleep that night. She sat in bed, watched the snow falling soundlessly.
Seasons had come and gone; presidents in Kabul had been inaugurated and murdered; an empire had been defeated; old wars had ended and new ones had broken out. But Mariam had hardly noticed, hardly cared. She had passed these years in a distant corner of her mind A dry, barren field, out beyond wish and lament, beyond dream and disillusionment There, the future did not matter. And the past held only this wisdom: that love was a damaging mistake, and its accomplice, hope, a treacherous illusion. And whenever those twin poisonous flowers began to sprout in the parched land of that field, Mariam uprooted them. She uprooted them and ditched them before they took hold.
But somehow, over these last months, Laila and Aziza - a harami like herself, as it turned out - had become extensions of her, and now, without them, the life Mariam had tolerated for so long suddenly seemed intolerable.
We're leaving this spring, Aziza and I. Come with us, Mariam.
The years had not been kind to Mariam. But perhaps, she thought, there were kinder years waiting still. A new life, a life in which she would find the blessings that Nana had said a harami like her would never see. Two new flowers had unexpectedly sprouted in her life, and, as Mariam watched the snow coming down, she pictured Mullah Faizullah twirling his tasbeh beads, leaning in and whispering to her in his soft, tremulous voice, But it is God Who has planted them, Mariam jo. And it is His will that you tend to them. It is His will, my girl.
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