I read this for a new book group I've joined. It was a good story in that 'do-gooder' sense. Like most of the human interest non-fiction stories one man takes on a challenge great enough for hundreds, even thousands, and emerges a hero. While I completely respect the story itself and admire Greg Mortenson in a super hero's light, where was the heartache? He mentions how he hated leaving his family for his lengthy times away from them but surely there was a moment when he trudged up the driveway after months away and his daughter ran to her mom sounding the alarm that a strange man was at their house? How did that make him feel? Slightly despondent the next time he left? Where were the moments when he was fed up with Muslims in general and almost just threw in the towel? I wanted to love him. I wanted to be invested in his mission. The story is written as an account of his journey and for that purpose, it serves as a very good account. It is mostly factual, a re-telling of events. I was hoping for a heartfelt investment. I came away with a broader knowledge of Muslim's, terrorism, the suffering in what was once called Mesopotamia, and for me, what were abnormally dry tear ducts. Of all the suffering and hardship encompassed in 300 pages, I couldn't shed a single tear.
You will find an official plot line description at:
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/49436.Three_Cups_of_Tea
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