I Am Malala by Malala Yousafzai
Little, Brown  •  $26  •  ISBN 9780316322409
Published October 8, 2013


On Tuesday, October 9, 2012, 15-year-old Pakistani Malala Yousafzai was on her way home after school when she was shot in the head at point-blank range. This was no random act of violence. Her hometown of Mingora, in the Swat Valley, had recently come under the control of the Taliban, who are known to vigorously oppose the education of girls. Malala—whose parents had always encouraged her education, her father even founding her school—did not shy away from publicly speaking out about her belief in the right of all girls to go to school. Doing so made her a target, leading to that fateful October afternoon.

Defying all odds and expectations, Malala survived the shooting, making a full recovery and more determined than ever to fight for the right of girls around the world to be educated. I Am Malala is her story—a story that is simply incredible, simply unforgettable, simply inspiring. Here are her eloquent and powerful opening words:

I come from a country that was created at midnight. When I almost died it was just after midday.

One year ago I left my home for school and never returned. I was shot by a Taliban bullet and was flown out of Pakistan unconscious. Some people say I will never return home, but I believe firmly in my heart that I will. To be torn from the country that you love is not something to wish on anyone.

Now, every morning when I open my eyes, I long to see my old room full of my things my clothes all over the floor, and my school prizes on the shelves. Instead I am in a country which is five hours behind my beloved homeland Pakistan and my home in the Swat Valley. But my country is centuries behind this one. Here there is every convenience you can imagine. Water running from every tap, hot or cold as you wish; lights at the flick of a switch, day and night, no need for oil lamps; ovens to cook on that don't need anyone to go and fetch gas cylinders from the bazaar. Here everything is so modern one can even find food ready cooked in packets.

When I stand in front of my window and look out, I see tall buildings, long roads full of vehicles moving in orderly lines, neat green hedges and lawns, and tidy pavements to walk on. I close my eyes and for a moment I am back in my valley—the high snow-topped mountains, green waving fields and fresh blue rivers—and my heart smiles when it looks at the people of Swat. My mind transports me back to my school and there I am reunited with my friends and teachers. I meet my best friend Moniba and we sit together, talking and joking as if I had never left.

Then I remember I am in Birmingham, England.

What do you think, readers? Do you plan on reading I Am Malala?

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