Even though I’ve had The Kite Runner listed on my sidebar for over a month now, I just started reading it this weekend. Right around the time that our house hunt went from “Traipsing through other people’s houses and ogling their furniture is fun!” to “Holy f***, we need to find a place to live, like yesterday” I decided I wanted to read it, but I never got past page six.
I couldn’t focus on anything except the fact that if we didn’t find a place soon we’d be shackin’ up with my in-laws, so I put reading fiction on the back burner and focused exclusively on being a total stressbag instead. I kind of forgot about it until Friday night, when I caught a glimpse of it on my night table and picked it up.
I haven’t put it down since. Holy crap, this book is amazing. I am living and breathing this book, this riveting, at times painful, exquisite story. When I’m not reading it, I’m thinking about the sounds and smells and the lives that are unfolding on the pages. I’m picturing scenes in my head, the characters and their faces, what they’re wearing…I dream about this book at night.