Books are amazing things. They can take you into fictional landscapes, teach you when you need insight and depth, provide you with the real story that someone chopped about to make into a film or a play. They can even drape you in the skin of an extraordinary person. And that’s what this book does for anyone with an ounce of empathic intelligence; it bares those parts of us that lie beneath our appearance to enable us to touch heartstrings torn by our society’s ignorants.
The book then turns away from malign forces to the open window of her search for truth, identity and beyond to a bold creation of self-identity, confidence and achievement.
It must have been painful to paste together this jigsaw puzzle of childhood memories splattered by callous or careless words and deeds. Susan Vickers does this without the malice that it could so easily have engendered, but adds sprinkles of hope throughout.
The bone structure of “I’m Not a Paki” shows strength, courage and beauty in its author. I shall await the promised sequels – and trust that when they arrive they will be as delightfully packaged as this literally was, clothed with ribbons and tinsel.
Al Barz 