This simple epigram sets the stage for this very unusual and powerful story: it is both personal, even intimate, and wide-reaching in substance and relevance. At the centre of all comings and goings is one room where a woman attends to her wounded husband. A photo of him on the wall identifies him as a combatant for one of the fighting factions in an ongoing war. The sounds of gunfire, of tanks near-by smashing house walls and of men shouting -far or close by - regularly break into the room's silence where the woman is also deep in thought and prayer. The woman goes about her nursing routines, leaves the room to speak to her young daughters somewhere down the passage, comes back, refreshes the feeding tube, washes her husband's motionless body and, settling back beside him, continues counting her prayer beads while reciting one of the ninety-nine names of God. If it were not for his quiet regular breathing, one would think the man had died already...
In a language that is at the same time simple, spare and compressed, yet often poetic, Rahimi evokes the atmosphere in the room that is both calm and serene and, nonetheless, held in suspense by tensions lingering below the surface. As readers we feel like intimate observers of a domestic tragedy, yet at the same time, through the special lens that the room provides we can perceive the desolation and brutality of the outside world. Slowly, in sensitively conveyed step, the reader learns to understand the hard life of the woman, her family and background and also the intricacies of a society torn apart by tradition and power struggles. The woman opens her heart, expressing her deepest held thoughts to her man who cannot answer but might well hear her. She discovers a new strength in herself as she applies the symbolism of the black stone, "sang-e-sabour", the patience stone, to her situation: the stone that absorbs all the confessions of the believers... Encouraged by this new understanding, she makes her man such a silent listener, her very personal patience stone. The more she shares her thoughts aloud, the more she spells out all the sufferings, pain, anger, and suppressed wishes that women in her society have been experiencing. The reader empathizes with her as she gains in strength and confidence, finally revealing the deepest secrets of her life. She feels a burden lifting from her heart, freed from all the strains that held her down. Where does the story lead to? A conclusion that is both shocking and consistent.
Much of what is conveyed in this novella is expressed as the woman's monologue, a tragic story, exquisitely and forcefully imagined by the author. Rahimi does not give the woman nor any other character a name to underline his intent of demonstrating general validity of his character's story. It is an indictment to women's suppression anywhere. Nevertheless, the story is very personable and as a reader we can relate to the woman's individuality and predicament. The events in the room and beyond are so vividly portrayed that one can visualize the scenes and easily imagine a film.
Written originally in French, Polly McLean's translation is fluid and perceptive. Khaled Hosseini's introduction to the slender volume is a very good resource for context and importance of this book. With this novel, film producer and writer, Atiq Rahima deservedly won the renowned (French) Prix Gouncourt in 2008. Rahimi is Afghani, and having fled his home country during the Taliban regime, settled in France, He returned to Afghanistan in 2002, where he currently works on the film version of THE PATIENCE STONE. [Friederike Knabe]