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As a Malaysian who read Enid Blyton voraciously as a child, introduced to it by my mom who was also another Blyton enjoyer growing up in a convent missionary school - this piece literally is so relatable. Mentioning how I enjoyed her books to my English friends got me schooled quick as the protective bubble of childhood never nudged me to dig deep into her history. I suppose passing the media/lit you engaged with as a commonwealth kid through a decolonial lens is a rinse and repeat when it comes to also dismantling the internalised pedestal Britain is put on that we grow up with.

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