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A review by pjmbyul
The Book Thief by Markus Zusak
5.0
In early 2014, my family rented The Book Thief movie and watched it on a Friday night, merely hours after my mom had purchased the book. It was merely coincidental, my father renting the movie not knowing that my mother had bought the book and planned to read it. She decided to watch the movie with us despite not having yet read the book, and I'll be honest: The movie was okay. It was a very simple story, but nothing spectacular. My mom then decided to not read the book because the ending of the story was far too depressing for her.
For over two years, The Book Thief novel sat upstairs on a lonely bookshelf full of old college textbooks and Bible devotionals.
Until five days ago.
I had nothing to read due to having finished my last book and waiting for my recent order of books to arrive, so I decided to read The Book Thief out of simply needing something to read.
This book is now one of my favorite books, deserving the five stars I'm giving it and all of the awards and love it's already received.
The Book Thief follows Liesel Meminger from ages nine to fourteen, years 1939 to 1943 in a fictional town called Mulching in Munich, Germany. Yes, if you weren't aware, this is a World War II novel. But, unlike others, it is narrated by that of which surrounded WWII: Death. No, not Death like a hooded gray man with a sharpened scythe as a weapon.
I do not carry a sickle or scythe.
I only wear a hooded black robe when it's cold.
And I don't have those skull-like facial features you seem to enjoy pinning on me from a distance. You want to know what I truly look like? I'll help you out. Find yourself a mirror while I continue.
Death tells this very story, adding a different and unique bone-chilling factor to a heart wrenching period of time. Like I said about the movie, the story is simple, but it's the writing, the beautiful yet uneasy narration that makes this story so beautiful and so melancholy at the same time. The narration is spectacular, making this book a new favorite of mine.
Death is said to be best friends with war, but that's not the case in this book. Death is tired of his job, speaking of his occupation of carrying away souls as weary and exhausting. He isn't friends with war. One thing Death is known for in this book is his thoughts on humans.
I am haunted by humans.
His perception of the human race is so beautifully written, so moving. Examples:
I guess humans like to watch a little destruction. Sand castles, houses of cards, that's where they begin. Their great skill is their capacity to escalate.
Please believe me when I tell you that I picked up each soul that day as if it were newly born. I even kissed a few weary, poisoned cheeks. I listened to their last, gasping cries. Their vanishing words… I watched the sky as it turned from silver to gray to the color of rain. Even the clouds were trying to get away.
Sometimes I imagined how everything looked above those clouds, knowing without question that the sun was blond, and the endless atmosphere was a giant blue eye.
They were French, they were Jews, and they were you.
I wanted to explain that I am constantly overestimating and underestimating the human race-that rarely do I ever simply estimate it. I wanted to ask her how the same thing could be so ugly and so glorious, and its words and stories so damning and brilliant.
The human heart is a line, whereas my own is a circle, and I have the endless ability to be in the right place at the right time. The consequence of this is that I'm always finding humans at their best and worst. I see their ugly and their beauty, and I wonder how the same thing can be both. Still, they have one thing I envy. Humans, if nothing else, have the good sense to die.
Liesel Meminger is the main character of this story. Her mother, unable to take care of her children any longer, is on the way to drop off her two children when her son, Liesel's brother, dies on the journey. Liesel arrives to her new home, 33 Himmel Street (Himmel translated=Heaven), to meet her new foster parents, Hans and Rosa Hubermann, and she's utterly alone.
Slowly, she comes close to her new parents, specifically her accordion playing papa who comes to her room every night when she wakes from nightmares and ends up teaching her how to read, starting with her first stolen book, The Gravedigger's Handbook. She also becomes friends with her neighbor and schoolmate, Rudy Steiner, a lemon-haired boy who constantly is seeking a kiss from Liesel, and who also is obsessed with gold medalist Jesse Owens, going as far to paint himself black with charcoal to be more like him. There's also the mayor's wife, who after catching Liesel steal a book from a book burning rally, invites her to read in her library.
Last on the list is Max Vandenburg, a twenty four year old Jew who ends up hiding in the Hubermann's basement. He and Liesel become very good friends, their love of knowledge of words bringing them together.
Max lifted his head, with great sorrow and great astonishment.
"There were stars," He said. "They burned my eyes."
The Book Thief is not for fast readers, those who have simple minds who wish to plow through a book or who like tons of action rather than figurative language. The story is slow, yet entirely gripping. It's a sad ending, let me tell you right now. Death doesn't care for mystery, so why should I?
Of course I'm being rude. I'm spoiling the ending […]. […] I don't have much interest in building mystery. Mystery bores me. It chores me. I know what happens and so do you. It's the machinations that wheel us there that aggravate, perplex, interest, and astound me.
The ending is very sad, but it very much shows one of the main points of this book: The Germans didn't like Hitler either. The German were affected too. Of course, nothing could ever compare to the Jews and their concentration camps, but what this story does such a good job showing is that the commoners of Germany weren't living it up. Their lives weren't colorful and free, they were equally as gray and trapped. You were whipped and enlisted in the army if you even so much as dropped a piece of bread on the ground for a Jew. You were poor and hungry, you were chained and unable to speak. You were silent.
This book's ending is ironic. It's everything Hitler didn't want.
It's unwanted death and unwanted survival.
Hopefully that doesn't spoil you too much, but you are to be spoiled in this book. Like Death said above, he doesn't care for mystery and surprises.
The bombs were coming—and so was I.
With the tragically beautiful narration and lovely story from the point of view of a German child during WWII, this book is one of the best books I've ever read. I highly recommend it for anyone, for everyone.
Even death has a heart.
For over two years, The Book Thief novel sat upstairs on a lonely bookshelf full of old college textbooks and Bible devotionals.
Until five days ago.
I had nothing to read due to having finished my last book and waiting for my recent order of books to arrive, so I decided to read The Book Thief out of simply needing something to read.
This book is now one of my favorite books, deserving the five stars I'm giving it and all of the awards and love it's already received.
The Book Thief follows Liesel Meminger from ages nine to fourteen, years 1939 to 1943 in a fictional town called Mulching in Munich, Germany. Yes, if you weren't aware, this is a World War II novel. But, unlike others, it is narrated by that of which surrounded WWII: Death. No, not Death like a hooded gray man with a sharpened scythe as a weapon.
I do not carry a sickle or scythe.
I only wear a hooded black robe when it's cold.
And I don't have those skull-like facial features you seem to enjoy pinning on me from a distance. You want to know what I truly look like? I'll help you out. Find yourself a mirror while I continue.
Death tells this very story, adding a different and unique bone-chilling factor to a heart wrenching period of time. Like I said about the movie, the story is simple, but it's the writing, the beautiful yet uneasy narration that makes this story so beautiful and so melancholy at the same time. The narration is spectacular, making this book a new favorite of mine.
Death is said to be best friends with war, but that's not the case in this book. Death is tired of his job, speaking of his occupation of carrying away souls as weary and exhausting. He isn't friends with war. One thing Death is known for in this book is his thoughts on humans.
I am haunted by humans.
His perception of the human race is so beautifully written, so moving. Examples:
I guess humans like to watch a little destruction. Sand castles, houses of cards, that's where they begin. Their great skill is their capacity to escalate.
Please believe me when I tell you that I picked up each soul that day as if it were newly born. I even kissed a few weary, poisoned cheeks. I listened to their last, gasping cries. Their vanishing words… I watched the sky as it turned from silver to gray to the color of rain. Even the clouds were trying to get away.
Sometimes I imagined how everything looked above those clouds, knowing without question that the sun was blond, and the endless atmosphere was a giant blue eye.
They were French, they were Jews, and they were you.
I wanted to explain that I am constantly overestimating and underestimating the human race-that rarely do I ever simply estimate it. I wanted to ask her how the same thing could be so ugly and so glorious, and its words and stories so damning and brilliant.
The human heart is a line, whereas my own is a circle, and I have the endless ability to be in the right place at the right time. The consequence of this is that I'm always finding humans at their best and worst. I see their ugly and their beauty, and I wonder how the same thing can be both. Still, they have one thing I envy. Humans, if nothing else, have the good sense to die.
Liesel Meminger is the main character of this story. Her mother, unable to take care of her children any longer, is on the way to drop off her two children when her son, Liesel's brother, dies on the journey. Liesel arrives to her new home, 33 Himmel Street (Himmel translated=Heaven), to meet her new foster parents, Hans and Rosa Hubermann, and she's utterly alone.
Slowly, she comes close to her new parents, specifically her accordion playing papa who comes to her room every night when she wakes from nightmares and ends up teaching her how to read, starting with her first stolen book, The Gravedigger's Handbook. She also becomes friends with her neighbor and schoolmate, Rudy Steiner, a lemon-haired boy who constantly is seeking a kiss from Liesel, and who also is obsessed with gold medalist Jesse Owens, going as far to paint himself black with charcoal to be more like him. There's also the mayor's wife, who after catching Liesel steal a book from a book burning rally, invites her to read in her library.
Last on the list is Max Vandenburg, a twenty four year old Jew who ends up hiding in the Hubermann's basement. He and Liesel become very good friends, their love of knowledge of words bringing them together.
Max lifted his head, with great sorrow and great astonishment.
"There were stars," He said. "They burned my eyes."
The Book Thief is not for fast readers, those who have simple minds who wish to plow through a book or who like tons of action rather than figurative language. The story is slow, yet entirely gripping. It's a sad ending, let me tell you right now. Death doesn't care for mystery, so why should I?
Of course I'm being rude. I'm spoiling the ending […]. […] I don't have much interest in building mystery. Mystery bores me. It chores me. I know what happens and so do you. It's the machinations that wheel us there that aggravate, perplex, interest, and astound me.
The ending is very sad, but it very much shows one of the main points of this book: The Germans didn't like Hitler either. The German were affected too. Of course, nothing could ever compare to the Jews and their concentration camps, but what this story does such a good job showing is that the commoners of Germany weren't living it up. Their lives weren't colorful and free, they were equally as gray and trapped. You were whipped and enlisted in the army if you even so much as dropped a piece of bread on the ground for a Jew. You were poor and hungry, you were chained and unable to speak. You were silent.
This book's ending is ironic. It's everything Hitler didn't want.
It's unwanted death and unwanted survival.
Hopefully that doesn't spoil you too much, but you are to be spoiled in this book. Like Death said above, he doesn't care for mystery and surprises.
The bombs were coming—and so was I.
With the tragically beautiful narration and lovely story from the point of view of a German child during WWII, this book is one of the best books I've ever read. I highly recommend it for anyone, for everyone.
Even death has a heart.