At the beginning of The Kite Runner, Hosseini uses a metaphor comparing the past to an animal that “claws its way out” of things and a hyperbole describing a lifetime of “peeking” to show how Amir’s guilt dominates his life:
[...] 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.
The metaphor comparing the past to an animal suggests that Amir feels his past is violent and uncontrollable. By saying the past "claws its way out," Amir shows how intensely he feels the guilt he carries cannot stay hidden. No matter how hard he tries to forget, it violently forces its way back into his mind, damaging his ability to live peacefully. The animal imagery of this metaphor emphasizes how dangerous Amir’s memories have become. As they “claw” their way out they damage him.
The hyperbole of peeking into the alley for “twenty-six years” also stresses the overwhelming effect of that one day. Amir exaggerates his language here to show how every decision and feeling in his life has stayed connected to his witnessing Hassan’s assault in the alley. By claiming he has “peered” back into the alley for more than two decades, Amir shows that the past has not loosened its hold on him. His position as an unhelpful bystander “peering” into the alley is at the center of his guilt. It’s always present no matter how much time passes.
When Amir reflects on his complicated feelings toward Baba, Khaled Hosseini uses hyperbole to show Baba’s control over Amir’s moral world:
With me as the glaring exception, my father molded the world around him to his liking. The problem, of course, was that Baba saw the world in black and white. And he got to decide what was black and what was white. You can’t love a person who lives that way without fearing him too. Maybe even hating him a little.
Amir’s language in this passage is very exaggerated, because as a child it truly seemed to him that his father “molded the world around him to his liking.” This comment also shows how absolute Baba’s authority felt to Amir as a child. In Amir’s eyes, Baba did not just influence opinions or ideas. Instead, he shaped right and wrong itself because “he got to decide what was black and what was white.” Baba’s ability to define what counted as good or bad made him seem superhuman.
This exaggerated power and control also explains the emotional strain between father and son. Because Baba defined morality in such rigid, absolute terms, Amir could never feel completely secure in his love. When Amir says that it was impossible to love a person like Baba without also fearing him, he’s demonstrating how conflicted his feelings about Baba were. As a boy, Amir’s feelings for Baba were a confusing mix of adoration and resentment.
When he is first describing his father, Amir uses hyperbole and a simile comparing people to sunflowers to show Baba’s overwhelming strength and authority:
My father was a force of nature, a towering Pashtun specimen with a thick beard, a wayward crop of curly brown hair as unruly as the man himself, hands that looked capable of uprooting a willow tree, and a black glare that would “drop the devil to his knees begging for mercy,” as Rahim Khan used to say. At parties, when all six-foot-five of him thundered into the room, attention shifted to him like sunflowers turning to the sun.
Baba is a “force of nature,” a huge person with a huge personality who absolutely dominates everything around him. The simile comparing people’s reactions to “sunflowers turning to the sun” highlights Baba’s natural ability to command a room. Just as sunflowers instinctively turn their faces toward sunlight, people instinctively focus their attention on Baba. This comparison shows the pull of Baba’s energy. His presence demands attention wherever he goes.
Amir expands on this with hyperbolic descriptions of Baba’s looks. Although it’s clearly an exaggeration, he describes Baba’s hands as strong enough to “uproot a willow tree” and his glare as being powerful enough to “drop the devil to his knees.” These images make the "six-foot-five" Baba seem even larger and stronger than he really is.
Baba is a man of extreme and unbending moral ideas. When he explains how serious he thinks the sin of theft is to a young Amir, Baba uses pathos to appeal to Amir’s emotions and hyperbole to stress just how unforgivable theft is:
[T]here is only one sin, only one [...]. 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?
In this passage Baba is saying that every sin is basically theft. His use of pathos is intended to draw directly on Amir’s sense of empathy and guilt, making him understand and remember this argument. Baba frames each example of “theft” as a devastating personal loss, whether it’s a wife losing a husband, a child losing a father, or a person losing the truth or fairness they deserve in a moment of injustice. These examples push Amir to imagine the emotional harm that wrongdoing between one person and another causes. Baba’s words appeal to Amir’s childish sense of morality by connecting wrongdoing with harming others, rather than with breaking rules.
The hyperbole of calling theft the “only sin” exaggerates the claim Baba is making. Baba expands the definition of “theft” to cover every major moral wrong to persuade Amir that all harm stems from taking what does not belong to you. This sweeping argument exaggerates the damage caused by any lie or betrayal. To Baba there is no nuance; theft is the worst thing a person can do. In this worldview, theft is not just one wrong among many—it's the root of all sin.