I’ve seen The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini in the book stores under the best sellers section for a while now. I’ve been mildly interested in reading it, but never really got around to purchasing it. I didn’t really pay attention to it up until someone in my running group mentioned just how much she really enjoyed the book. From then, I went and picked it up. It’s been my reading material on the commute into work over the past week.

This book has gripped me tightly over the past week. I thoroughly enjoyed it from start to finish. There were times on the subways or streetcars where I was totally absorbing the emotions behind the words and was consciously trying not to display them on my face. There were many highs and lows and I went along for the ride as the willing captive. Today, on my way home, I was down to the last couple of pages or so when my stop came up. Instead of putting the book away, I carried it with me and kept reading as I walked to my car. Stairs, turnstiles and other commuters were splitting my attention away from the book and I was cursing them all for it. I suppose it would have been easier to just sit down and finish off the last pages, but I figured I could multitask. Luckily I didn’t bump into any walls or anything. I’m glad I continued because I was overcome with the satisfaction of finishing a truly great book.

I felt that there was a great fluidity that Hosseini managed to have in the way he structured things. Not once was I overcome with the feeling that I was “forced” to continue, hoping for the story to improve. I felt that way about the last book I read (The Rule of Four, blaaaarg). So coming from that, I was almost prepping for another chunky read. I’m glad to have been proven wrong. I’ve given the book to my mother, hoping that she’ll love it as much as I did. I’m sure she will.