'And the Mountains Echoed,' by Khaled Hosseini What, in his opinion, makes contemporary Western literature distinctive? Simple. While Hosseini writes in English - his third language - his profuse employment of tragedy, unlikely reunions and minor acts of God makes his work more readily identifiable within the South Asian literary tradition. Yet he has attracted legions of fans more accustomed to the "bored, tired people having sex" school of literary fiction, suggesting that we are living in a time when such distinctions are increasingly meaningless, and cynicism is finally going out of style. Nila, a wealthy, Westernized poet from Kabul rendered sterile by a botched abortion, offers to become Saboor's patroness in exchange for his young daughter, setting off a chain of events that reshapes the lives of everyone involved. There is a wonderful freshness to the emotional lives of his Afghan characters, all of whom, despite or perhaps because of their battles with poverty and shifting political realities, invent dynamic new ways to relate to one another. After vowing to help her, he returns to the United States and is lulled by the formidable anesthetic of American consumerism, subsiding into his comfortable life and allowing the remodeling of his house to overtake his desire to help the injured girl.