For purposes that you, the reader, will understand by the end of this memoir, my name will be known as Fazool Saraiy, “Nothing Man” in the Pashto language; the names of individuals herein have been altered for similar precautions. The events are true. This is the recollection of a dark period in my life and the lives of all Pakistanis by a threat that still looms on the fringes of our borders, hiding in the mountains of this beautiful land, eager to unleash itself upon a world weary of terror, should we again let down our guard. With the help of my dear friend, my account of these two years is here documented. It is both a tribute to those good people everywhere who have given the ultimate sacrifice to keep our world from crumbling into the abyss as well as my effort as one small man toward the perpetuation of the freedom for which they suffered.
I really wanted to rate this book two stars instead of three, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. The author, who writes under a pseudonym for the protection of himself and his family, lived in the Swat Valley in Pakistan during the troubles they experienced as Taliban influence spread from Afghanistan. This is not a history, and I don't really think it is a memoir because there is not much in the way of reflection. It is more a narrative of the challenges the author, his family, and his neighbors faced during this terrible time in their nation's history.
The narrative itself is somewhat dis-jointed, with long periods of time slipped through in a sentence or two, and presents the reader with a series of vignettes that demonstrate how bad went to worse. There is clearly a tone of pain and frustration that I found heart-rending. And yet, the author portrays everything as just life, and he retains an optimism that I can't quite grasp.
He doesn't in any way set himself up as heroic, but, in a way, most of the individuals he writes about are heroic in their own ways. And that is something to think about.