故事从一对小男孩的亲密友谊开始。12岁的富家少爷阿米尔与仆人哈桑从小一块儿长大，两人年龄相仿、情同兄弟，总是一起玩耍、一起分享有趣的故事。然而，在一场风筝比赛后，一件悲惨不堪的事发生了，并永久地破坏了两人之间的情谊，从此两人各自走上不同的人生道路。然而故事最后却又以让人始料未及的方式，重新连接起两人的关系……这是一个有关爱与背叛、恐惧与罪恶、愧疚与救赎的感人故事，也是一个关于父亲对儿子的影响的故事——包括父亲对儿子的爱、奉献与谎言。作者文笔细腻而富有感情，描写精彩。
Khaled Hosseini（卡勒德·胡赛尼，1965— ），出生于阿富汗喀布尔，父亲为阿富汗外交官。1980年苏联入侵阿富汗时，他随全家逃往美国寻求政治庇护。胡赛尼毕业于加州大学圣地亚哥医学系，现居加州执业。《追风筝的人》是他的第一本小说，书中的角色刻画生动，故事情节震撼感人，出版后大获好评，曾蝉联亚马逊排行榜131周之久，全球热销600多万册，创下出版奇迹。该小说已经被改编成电影，有兴趣的“粉丝”不妨找来欣赏一番。^_^
December 2001
2001年12月
I became what I am today at the age of twelve, on a frigid overcast day in the winter of 1975. I remember the precise moment, crouching behind a crumbling mud wall,peeking into the alley near the frozen creek. That was a long time ago, but it’s wrong what they say about the past, I’ve learned, about how you can bury it. Because the past claws its way out. Looking back now, I realize I have been peeking into that deserted alley for the last twenty-six years.
我成为今天的我，是在1975年某个阴云密布的寒冷冬日，那年我十二岁。我清楚地记得当时自己趴在一堵坍塌的泥墙后面，窥视着那条小巷，旁边是结冰的小溪。许多年过去了，人们说陈年旧事可以被埋葬，然而我终于明白这是错的，因为往事会自行爬上来。回首前尘，我意识到在过去二十六年里，自己始终在窥视着那荒芜的小径。
One day last summer, my friend Rahim Khan called from Pakistan. He asked me to come see him. Standing in the kitchen with the receiver to my ear, I knew it wasn’t just Rahim Khan on the line. It was my past of unatoned sins. After I hung up, I went for a walk along Spreckels Lake on the northern edge of Golden Gate Park. The early-afternoon sun sparkled on the water where dozens of miniature boats sailed, propelled by a crisp breeze. Then I glanced up and saw a pair of kites, red with long blue tails, soaring in the sky. They danced high above the trees on the west end of the park, over the windmills, floating side by side like a pair of eyes looking down on San Francisco, the city I now call home.And suddenly Hassan’s voice whispered in my head: For you, a thousand times over. Hassan the harelipped kite runner.
去年夏季的某天，朋友拉辛汗从巴基斯坦打来电话，要我回去探望他。我站在厨房里，听筒贴在耳朵上，我知道电话线连着的，并不只是拉辛汗，还有我过去那些未曾赎还的罪行。挂了电话，我离开家门，到金门公园北边的斯普瑞柯湖边散步。晌午的骄阳照在波光粼粼的水面上，数十艘轻舟在和风的吹拂中漂行。我抬起头，望见两只红色的风筝，带着长长的蓝色尾巴，在天空中冉冉升起。它们舞动着，飞越公园西边的树林，飞越风车，并排飘浮着，如同一双眼睛俯视着旧金山，这个我现在当成家园的城市。突然间，哈桑的声音在我脑中响起：为你，千千万万遍。哈桑，那个兔唇的哈桑，那个追风筝的人。
I sat on a park bench near a willow tree. I thought about something Rahim Khan said just before he hung up, almost as an after thought. There is a way to be good again. I looked up at those twin kites. I thought about Hassan. Thought about Baba. Ali. Kabul. I thought of the life I had lived until the winter of 1975 came and changed everything. And made me what I am today.
我在公园里柳树下的长凳坐下，想着拉辛汗在电话中说的那些事情，再三思量。那儿有再次成为好人的路。我抬眼看看那比翼齐飞的风筝。我忆起哈桑。我缅怀爸爸。我想到阿里。我思念喀布尔。我想起曾经的生活，想起1975年那个改变了一切的冬天。那造就了今天的我。
