To read to your heart’s content. Not for the wording but rather for the flowing frame of mind hereby exposed. I am Malala written by Malala Yousafzai in accompaniment of Christina Lamb is not a biography, nor is it a non-fictional account of the life of a strikingly young woman in Pakistan. It is rather a message in prose.
There are certain books that we listen to more than we read, this is one of those orations. The tale tumbles through innumerable stereotypes and striking contradictions to find its place somewhere in between an adolescent playground and a reality ever so horrific in its subtly.
I want Malala and her friends to blossom. I read her words and I see a place where the world could be. If the world were not exactly the way it is: a hulking frame of scabrous individuals each wielding power in successive bouts of destruction. Albeit dark and confronting in its simplicity, the book does not tumble into introspection or bitterness.
Reading the book becomes more an experience in perspective rather than a process of visual cognition. There is no message about how the world and its people should be better, Malala is startling in her innocence.You are constantly reminded that she is a very young woman, not only in the writing but in her approach to the world. The phrases are simple and the plot is indivisible from the reason for the book’s existence. I am Malala is what divides the world from the people who wish to destroy the world and those who just want to see it bloom.