The Book Thief by Markus Zusak
It is 1939 Nazi Germany. The country is holding its breath. Death has never been busier, and will become busier still.
By her brother’s graveside, Liesel Meminger’s life is changed when she picks up a single object, partially hidden in the snow. It is The Grave Digger’s Handbook, left there by accident, and it is her first act of book thievery. So begins a love affair with books and words, as Liesel, with the help of her accordion playing foster father, learns to read. Soon she is stealing books from Nazi book-burnings, the mayor’s wife’s library, wherever there are books to be found.
But these are dangerous times. When Liesel’s foster family hides a Jew in their basement. Liesel’s world is both opened up and closed down.
Trying to make sense of the horrors of World War II, Death related the story of Liesel – A young German girl whose book-stealing an story-telling talents help sustain her family and the Jewish man they are hiding, as well as their neighbours.
Have any of you ever read a book in the voice of Death?
This is my first one.
The excerpt from the book is actually 20 pages in because he introduces Death and his job, describing the colours and how he takes people off of this world.
It actually quite an interested interpretation.
As for the story itself I enjoyed it. The author really breaks up his pages with little announcements and short sentences making the pages fly past. In one part of the book the Jew in the basement creates a book Leisel and you actually get to read and see the illustrations. That was my favourite part of the book.
“There was once a strange, small man. He decided three important details about his life:
1. He would part his hair from the opposite side to everyone else.
2. He would make himself a small strange mustache
3. He would one day rule the world”
From the Book:
With one eye open, one still in a dream, the book their – also known as Liesel Meminger – could see without question that her younger brother, Werner, was now sideways and dead.
His blue eyes started at the floor.
Seeing nothing.
Prior to waking up, the book thief was dreaming about the Fuhrer, Adolph Hitler. In the dream, she was attending a rally at which he spoke, looking at the skull coloured part in his hair and the perfect square of his moustache. She was listening contentedly to the torrent of words spilling from his mouth. His sentences glowed in the light. In a quieter moment, he actually crouched down and smiled at her. She returned the smile and said, “Guten tag, Herr Fuhrer: Wie geht’s dir heut?” She hadn’t learned to speak too well, or even to read, as she had rarely frequented school. The reason for that she would find out in due course.
Just as the Fuhrer was about to reply, she woke up
It was January 1939. She was nine years old, soon to be ten
Her brother was dead.
One Eye open.
One still in a dream
It would be better for a complete dream, I think, but I really have no control over that
The second eye jumped awake and she caught me out, no doubt about it. It was exactly when I knelt down and extracted is soul holding it limply in my swollen arms. He warmed up soon after, but when I picked him up originally, the boy’s spirit was soft and cold, like ice cream. He started melting in my arms. Then warming up completely. Healing.
For Liesel Meminger, there was the imprisoned stiffness of movement and the staggered onslaught of thoughts. Es stimmt nicht. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening.
And the shaking.
Why do they always shake them?
Yes, I know, I know, I assume it has something to do with Instinct. To stem the flow of truth. Her heart at that point was slippery and hot, and loud, so loud so loud.
Stupidly I stayed. I watched.
Comments