Uraz, son of Tursen, the main character of the book and the movie (or is it the noble horse, Jahil?) refuses the aid of a Western style hospital in recovering from a serious leg injury sustained during the national sport of Buzkashi, circa 1960, in Royal (and feudal) Afghanistan.
The book, one of the modern classics of world literature, now sells for a mere pittance on the Internet. Perhaps someday it will regain the stature and appreciation it richly deserves.
Uraz, in an unforgettable adventure across the Hindu Kush (literally, eater of Hindus, for its bitter cold and unforgiving terrain) returns, fighting disgrace for having lost the competition, and fighting the disloyalty of a servant he has tempted with his money and his horse, in order to bind the servant, or syce, to the impossible task of assisting him in his return to his fathers home and training ground of great horsemen.
He must also fight the treachery of a nomad woman whom he allows to accompany them, in order to further bind his male servant to the tasks ahead, and to distract him from his desire to possess the horse.
The adventures met on the road back, the landscapes,
scenery and populace, and the individual characters change the lives of the sojourners forever, as well as the events preceding the journey. The story of a young man facing disgrace, as well as danger from a severely septic wound, and his triumph over the adversity, as well as the price he and others pay for their youthful courage and yes, even arrogance (not the arrogance of nobility, only the arrogance of youth) is a power tale of male transformation from innocence to experience, from immaturity to the maturity of meeting adversity. The bitterness revealed in the book and only hinted at in the movie is realistic, not romanticized. The sweetness of life, of the land, and of human relationships is only underscored by the
contrast via chiaroscuro with the treachery, bitterness, jealousy, greed and foolhardiness limned in the course of the novels exposition and development.
The most memorable of characters, a gypsy woman who travels with an orangutan, is sadly omitted from the movie. Other memorable characters, who turn up unexpectedly in the book (notably, Guardi Gaj, listed as Guardy Gay in the movie cast, when perhaps the true pronunciation is more Gwardi Guy (without the Americanized vowels indicated here- the R should be lightly rolled from the tip of the tongue, and all vowels should be spoken more towards the rear of the mouth, in opposition to the lazy Americanized lack of pronunciation, but perhaps a bit more like the stiff-upper lipped speech of the British) change Uraz's life for the better, and forever, and he, in exchange, gives of himself to them.
Read the book. The movie cannot be lightly brushed off as a pale comparison to the book, but can only be viewed as a flawed attempt to re-create something of the masterpiece that gave it life. See it on its own merits, as you should have done for The Lord of The Rings (Peter Jackson version). See it for the landscape and the travelogue, and the exotic foreign setting. See it for its relevance to what came before the Russian and American invasions and their disastrous consequences for an ancient culture. See it for what was lost forever in the destruction of the Bamian statues. (They figure in the book, but I don't recall if they are shown in the movie---I doubt it). See it for the Band-i-Amir, the Five Lakes. Read the book for an adventure of the imagination, in which you will see the landscape from the point of view of the authors mind. The author, by the way, was one of the early French aviators of World War One, like Antoine de Saint-Exupery (The Little Prince, Wind Sand and Stars). His work is only known here in the U.S. minimally, from the French film Belle de Jour (also a novel), and the novel The Lion. Read, view, experience for yourself, don't depend on others opinions.
The book, one of the modern classics of world literature, now sells for a mere pittance on the Internet. Perhaps someday it will regain the stature and appreciation it richly deserves.
Uraz, in an unforgettable adventure across the Hindu Kush (literally, eater of Hindus, for its bitter cold and unforgiving terrain) returns, fighting disgrace for having lost the competition, and fighting the disloyalty of a servant he has tempted with his money and his horse, in order to bind the servant, or syce, to the impossible task of assisting him in his return to his fathers home and training ground of great horsemen.
He must also fight the treachery of a nomad woman whom he allows to accompany them, in order to further bind his male servant to the tasks ahead, and to distract him from his desire to possess the horse.
The adventures met on the road back, the landscapes,
scenery and populace, and the individual characters change the lives of the sojourners forever, as well as the events preceding the journey. The story of a young man facing disgrace, as well as danger from a severely septic wound, and his triumph over the adversity, as well as the price he and others pay for their youthful courage and yes, even arrogance (not the arrogance of nobility, only the arrogance of youth) is a power tale of male transformation from innocence to experience, from immaturity to the maturity of meeting adversity. The bitterness revealed in the book and only hinted at in the movie is realistic, not romanticized. The sweetness of life, of the land, and of human relationships is only underscored by the
contrast via chiaroscuro with the treachery, bitterness, jealousy, greed and foolhardiness limned in the course of the novels exposition and development.
The most memorable of characters, a gypsy woman who travels with an orangutan, is sadly omitted from the movie. Other memorable characters, who turn up unexpectedly in the book (notably, Guardi Gaj, listed as Guardy Gay in the movie cast, when perhaps the true pronunciation is more Gwardi Guy (without the Americanized vowels indicated here- the R should be lightly rolled from the tip of the tongue, and all vowels should be spoken more towards the rear of the mouth, in opposition to the lazy Americanized lack of pronunciation, but perhaps a bit more like the stiff-upper lipped speech of the British) change Uraz's life for the better, and forever, and he, in exchange, gives of himself to them.
Read the book. The movie cannot be lightly brushed off as a pale comparison to the book, but can only be viewed as a flawed attempt to re-create something of the masterpiece that gave it life. See it on its own merits, as you should have done for The Lord of The Rings (Peter Jackson version). See it for the landscape and the travelogue, and the exotic foreign setting. See it for its relevance to what came before the Russian and American invasions and their disastrous consequences for an ancient culture. See it for what was lost forever in the destruction of the Bamian statues. (They figure in the book, but I don't recall if they are shown in the movie---I doubt it). See it for the Band-i-Amir, the Five Lakes. Read the book for an adventure of the imagination, in which you will see the landscape from the point of view of the authors mind. The author, by the way, was one of the early French aviators of World War One, like Antoine de Saint-Exupery (The Little Prince, Wind Sand and Stars). His work is only known here in the U.S. minimally, from the French film Belle de Jour (also a novel), and the novel The Lion. Read, view, experience for yourself, don't depend on others opinions.
