Sea Prayer

“We woke in the mornings

to the stirring of olive trees in the breeze,

to the bleating of your grandmother’s goat,

the clanking of her cooking pots

the air cool and the sun

a pale rim of persimmon to the east.”

The metaphor comparing the sun to a persimmon connects it to the entire list of nourishing substances that the narrator remembers from his grandfather’s farm. Like the olive trees, the animals, and the grandmother’s cooking, the sun is part of the cycle of feeding and growing. Besides offering that connection, this metaphor provides a visual comparison to this orange fruit as well as implying taste and smell. By invoking multiple senses, Hosseini engages the reader in the text’s descriptions.

“We took you there when you were a toddler.”

As well as grounding the story in terms of time period by suggesting how long ago these memories occurred in Marwan’s life, this sentence foreshadows where else Marwan’s parents are going to take him. The narrator began this story establishing that he would visit the farmhouse during the summers, but Marwan was only able to take this same trip when he was very young. Thus, the pattern was interrupted by an outside force.

“I have a sharply etched memory

of your mother from that trip,

showing you a herd of cows grazing in a field

blown through with wild flowers.”

This sentence contrasts the previous two sentences by beginning with the pronoun “I.” Previously, the narrator framed these events by starting with the pronoun “we.” While much of the story is a shared or communal experience, this memory of Marwan’s mother is unique to the narrator. This establishes the theme of the Failures of Memory whereby characters, like Marwan, are unable to share memories even for events in which they were present.

“I wish you hadn’t been so young.”

Among the long lists of details and lines of poetry, this short sentence creates a contrast to the text’s slower rhythm. By making this declarative statement short so it can stand out from the rest, it emphasizes how true it is to the father and how sharply painful this point is to him.

“You wouldn’t have forgotten the farmhouse,

the soot of its stone walls,

the creek where your uncles and I built

a thousand boyhood dams.”

By wishing Marwan to be older, the narrator is showing how he values Connecting to Home Through Nature and wishes to pass that same home onto his son. Even though the family has not yet fled their country, the location is not the same without these natural elements such as “the creek,” imbued with emotional meaning.

“I wish you remembered Homs as I do, Marwan.”

Demonstrating the theme of Failures of Memory, the narrator here acknowledges that Marwan does have some memories of home, but they are not perceived to be as valuable as the one his father possesses. The lack of specific experiences shapes Marwan’s life as different from the rest of his family and isolates him.

“In its bustling Old City,

a mosque for us Muslims,

a church for our Christian neighbors,

and a grand souk for us all to haggle over gold pendants and

fresh produce and bridal dresses.”

In another example of using line breaks to emphasize certain phrases, Hosseini isolates both general and specific subjects on their own lines to elevate both large and small details of the city equally. While the illustrations provide visual details, the grand image of the Old City with the mosque and church are given equal emphasis to the minutia such as “gold pendants” for sale or the “fresh produce and bridal dresses.” This poignantly suggests that the minute details of the narrator’s life, to which he cannot return, matter to him.

“I wish you remembered

the crowded lanes smelling of fried kibbeh

and the evening walks we took

with your mother

around Clock Tower Square.”

Through alliteration, the repeated sounds of the percussive “k” or “c” and the “w” match the bustling atmosphere the author is describing. As this is the only sentence on the page, it is responsible for capturing the sentimental memory the narrator is focused on without losing the larger narrative arc the book is exploring.

“But that life, that time,

seems like a dream now,

even to me,

like some long-dissolved rumour.”

By capturing the mood of the narrator through the use of asides, Hosseini is again playing with pacing. By setting each short phrase apart with both commas and line breaks, the reader is forced to slow down and examine how each addition changes the direction of the sentence. First, the aside negates all those memories that came before by changing from “that life, that time” to something less real, “like a dream.” Then the narrator connects this confusion to the Failures of Memory as even the narrator can feel the past “dissolving” or fading.

“First came the protests. Then the siege.”

As a contrast to the earlier, long rhythmic sentences, these phrases are not separated with a comma but rather hard stops. Using fewer words, similar to having illustrations utilizing more negative space, what remains on the page stands out because of its simplicity.

“The skies spitting bombs.

Starvation.

Burials.”

This passage sets up two experiences of suffering: bombs and starvation. Both lead to the conclusion of “burials,” but by separating the violence of bombs from the loss, the reader is forced to confront the relationship between the immediacy of the explosions and the longer-term consequences. Rather than a memory in the past tense, this is written in present tense with no ending.

“These are the things you know.”

Exploring the theme of Failures of Memory, this sentence highlights the difference between what the father remembers and what Marwan knows. While the memory of the narrator is relegated to language surrounding dreams and small details, Marwan’s experience confronts them.

“You have learned

dark blood is better news

than bright.”

The person from whom Marwan learned this lesson is never stated. In this case, blood is separated from the individual and Marwan’s experiences with injury and death are distanced from the real people he has lost, suggesting a traumatic detachment from events. This description highlights the motif of brightness representing danger.

“You have learned that mothers and

sisters and classmates can be found

in narrow gaps between concrete,

bricks and exposed beams,

little patches of sunlit skin

shining in the dark.”

Hosseini uses ambiguity to imply some of the story’s context without shifting the focus from Marwan, the recipient of this letter. While the corresponding illustration shows a group of upright figures tucked under large structures, the text itself doesn’t say how these people are connected to Marwan or whether they are okay when they are found. Unlike in earlier descriptions, the narrator does not specify if these are connected to Marwan, but instead focuses on the human-made structures that separate them, offering a counterexample to Connecting to Home Through Nature; the destruction means that the world Marwan knows is defined by “concrete” and “bricks” instead.

“Your mother is here tonight, Marwan,

with us, on this cold and moonlit beach,

among the crying babies and

the women worrying

in tongues we don’t speak.”

By placing the characters among people they cannot communicate with, Hosseini highlights how the story is solely focused on Marwan in the father’s perspective. By simplifying the narrative arc and avoiding other descriptions and contexts, Hosseini balances intense confrontation of loss with uncertainty.

“Afghans and Somalis and Iraqis and

Eritreans and Syrians.

All of us impatient for sunrise,

all of us in dread of it.”

Hosseini lists the nationalities among the refugees to highlight the global scale of the refugee crisis. By repeating the phrase “all of us” once again, he unites these groups in their shared burden. The final two lines highlight the paradox of the people’s fear: that the people are both “impatient for” and “dread” their fate.

“All of us in search of home.”

The irony in this quote explores the meaning of home whereby home is not only distant but unknown. By implying that home can be lost and found again, the author reframes their journey into one filled with some hope as well as loss.

“I have heard it said that we are the uninvited.

We are the unwelcome.

We should take our misfortune elsewhere.”

The repetition in the quote plays with pronouns: the “we” unites all who are displaced by war and conflict. Hosseini uses passive voice (“heard it said that”) such that the statement is not an accusation of anyone specific, making it instead a mournful meditation on the treatment of refugees in the West.

“But I hear your mother’s voice,

over the tide, and she whispers in my ear,

‘Oh, but if they saw, my darling.

Even half of what you have.

If only they saw.

They would say kinder things, surely.’”

As the only direct quote from a character who isn’t the narrator, Marwan’s mother’s voice already stands out as important in the text. By including her voice as a whisper, Hosseini builds on the themes of the Failure of Memory. It is not Marwan who hears his mother’s reassurances about how much kinder the world would treat him; instead, it is the father who must relay this information, suggesting that Marwan does not carry his mother’s reassurances with him.

“I look at your profile

in the glow of this three-quarter moon,

my boy, your eyelashes like calligraphy,

closed in guileless sleep.”

The simile that compares Marwan’s closed eyelashes to calligraphy creates a strong visual where long, dark lines show how still his sleeping eyes are. In addition, this draws a comparison between Marwan and the letter that the narrator is currently writing. While the father is putting so much care into his words, the text is not in calligraphy. Instead, that beauty resides in his true focus: his son.

“I said to you,

‘Hold my hand.

Nothing bad will happen.’”

Despite the entire letter coming from the voice of the narrator, Hosseini quotes the narrator directly here, highlighting the significance of these words to the narrator himself. His words exemplify what he refers to as his “tricks” since he must lie to his son and offer false assurances.

“It slays your father,

your faith in him.”

The diction here, “slays,” invokes a powerful and heroic kind of pain. Rather than “hurting” or “killing” him, Marwan has the power to “slay” his father, underscoring the emotional significance of this moment.

“Because all I can think tonight is

how deep the sea,

and how vast, how indifferent.”

The author uses the sea to highlight the surrender that Marwan and his father must make to forces outside of their control. The sea is a metonym for all greater forces of unwelcome and apathy that endanger Marwan and the others on this boat. Hosseini personifies the sea, referring to it as “indifferent,” to suggest the powerlessness of the refugees as they cross it.