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12岁的阿富汗富家少爷阿米尔与仆人哈桑情同手足。然而，在一场风筝比赛后，发生了一件悲惨不堪的事，阿米尔为自己的懦弱感到自责和痛苦，逼走了哈桑，不久，自己也跟随父亲逃往美国。
成年后的阿米尔始终无法原谅自己当年对哈桑的背叛。为了赎罪，阿米尔再度踏上暌违二十多年的故乡，希望能为不幸的好友尽最后一点心力，却发现一个惊天谎言，儿时的噩梦再度重演，阿米尔该如何抉择？小说如此残忍而又美丽，作者以温暖细腻的笔法勾勒人性的本质与救赎，读来令人荡气回肠。
"I see you've confused what you're learning in school with actual education," he said in his thick voice. “我知道，你被学校教的功课和在生活中学到的东西搞糊涂了。”他那浑厚的声音说。
"But if what he said is true then does it make you a sinner, Baba?" “可是，如果他说的是真的，那你岂不是罪人了吗，爸爸?”
"Hmm."Baba crushed an ice cube between his teeth. "Do you want to know what your father thinks about sin?" “嗯。”爸爸咬碎嘴里的冰块，“你想知道自己的父亲怎么看待罪行吗?”
"Yes." “想。”
"Then I'll tell you,"Baba said, "but first understand this and understand it now, Amir: You'll never learn anything of value from those bearded idiots." “那我会告诉你，”爸爸说，“不过首先，你得知道一件事情，阿米尔，那些白痴大胡子不会教给你任何有价值的东西。”
"You mean Mullah Fatiullah Khan?" “你是说法修拉毛拉吗?”
Baba gestured with his glass. The ice clinked. "I mean all of them. Piss on the beards of all those self-righteous monkeys." 爸爸拿起酒杯，冰块叮咚作响。“我是说他们全部，那些自以为是的猴子，应该在他们的胡子上撒尿。”
I began to giggle. The image of Baba pissing on the beard of any monkey, self-righteous or otherwise, was too much. 我咯咯笑起来。想到爸爸在猴子的胡子上撒尿，不管那猴子是否自以为是，那场面太搞笑了。
"They do nothing but thumb their prayer beads and recite a book written in a tongue they don't even understand."He took a sip. "God help us all if Afghanistan ever falls into their hands." “除了用拇指数念珠，背诵那本根本就看不懂的经书，他们什么也不会。"他喝了一口，"要是阿富汗落在他们手里，所有人都得求真主保佑了。”
"But Mullah Fatiullah Khan seems nice,"I managed between bursts of tittering. “可是法修拉毛拉人很好。”我忍住发笑。
"So did Genghis Khan,"Baba said. "But enough about that. You asked about sin and I want to tell you. Are you listening?" “成吉思汗也很好。”爸爸说，“够了，不说这个了。你问我对罪行的看法，我会告诉你。你在听吗?”
"Yes,"I said, pressing my lips together. But a chortle escaped through my nose and made a snorting sound. That got me giggling again. “是的。”我说，试着抿紧嘴唇，但笑声从鼻孔冒出来，发出一阵鼻息的声响，惹得我又咯咯笑起来。
Baba's stony eyes bore into mine and, just like that, I wasn't laughing anymore. "I mean to speak to you man to man. Do you think you can handle that for once?" 爸爸双眼坚定地看着我的眼睛，仅仅这样，我就止住了笑声。“我的意思是，像男人跟男人说话那样跟你谈谈。你觉得你做得到吗?”
"Yes, Baba jan," I muttered, marveling, not for the first time, at how badly Baba could sting me with so few words. We'd had a fleeting good moment--it wasn't often Baba talked to me, let alone on his lap--and I'd been a fool to waste it. “是的，亲爱的爸爸。”我低声说，不止一次，爸爸只用几个字就能刺痛我，这真是叫人惊奇。我们有过一段短暂的美好时光--爸爸平时很少跟我说话，更别提把我抱在膝盖上--而我这个笨蛋，竟然白白将其浪费了。
"Good,"Baba said, but his eyes wondered. "Now, no matter what the mullah teaches, there is only one sin, only one. And that is theft. Every other sin is a variation of theft. Do you understand that?" “很好，”爸爸说，但眼睛仍透露出怀疑的神色,“现在，不管那个毛拉怎么说，罪行只有一种，只有一种。那就是盗窃，其他罪行都是盗窃的变种。你明白吗?”
"No, Baba jan,"I said, desperately wishing I did. I didn't want to disappoint him again. “不，亲爱的爸爸。”我说，我多希望自己能懂，我不想再让他失望。
Baba heaved a sigh of impatience. That stung too, because he was not an impatient man. I remembered all the times he didn't come home until after dark, all the times I ate dinner alone. I'd ask Ali where Baba was, when he was coming Home, though I knew full well he was at the construction site, overlooking this, supervising that. Didn't that take patience? I already hated all the kids he was building the orphanage for; sometimes I wished they'd all died along with their parents. 爸爸不耐烦地叹了一口气，那又刺痛我了，因为他不是没耐心的人。他总是直到夜幕降临才回家，留我独自吃饭，每一次我都记得清清楚楚。我问阿里“爸爸在哪儿，什么时候回来”，虽然我知道他在建筑工地，看看这儿，检查那儿。难道那不需要耐心吗?我一度恨上他建造的那所恤孤院里面的孩子，有时甚至希望他们统统随着父母一起死掉。
"When you kill a man, you steal a life,"Baba said. "You steal his wife's right to a husband, rob his children of a father. When you tell a lie, you steal someone's right to the truth. When you cheat, you steal the right to fairness. Do you see?" “当你杀害一个人，你偷走一条性命，"爸爸说，"你偷走他妻子身为人妇的权利，夺走他子女的父亲。当你说谎，你偷走别人知道真相的权利。当你诈骗，你偷走公平的权利。你懂吗?”
