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A review by missmansanas
The Book Thief by Markus Zusak
5.0
It's difficult to properly describe how I felt about The Book Thief, or more correctly, how the book made me feel. In the end, I loudly profess my love for the novel, as made obvious by the rating I have given. It's the first hands-down-incredible book that I have held for a while.
First impressions: I was attracted to the idea of a young, impoverished girl in a relationship with books. My hesitations came from the setting of the story — Nazi Germany. I don't hate history or historical fiction. I just never developed an appreciation for it.
After two years of wanting, I finally bought myself a copy of the book. (Only because my first-choice purchase wasn't there. The Book Thief really wasn't my priority because I was unsure.) It then took two weeks to get past the prologue, and another two weeks to complete the rest. I usually read books faster than that, but The Book Thief had a trudging slow pace. That, and the use of Death as the narrator, which was both interesting and confusing.
Unfavorites aside, I loved the book because it drew me in. The dragging description of nearly every day in Liesel's life gave me a certain experience of it. I watched everything and I overshadowed her life on a zoomed-in screen. My feelings through it were nostalgic and sentimental, perhaps a bit childish. Some people might hate that, but it worked for me. I resented anything the second it interrupted my rendezvous with the characters, I couldn’t wait to get back whenever I was away, and even though the ending was depressing, I didn't want it to go away. I had gotten used to living in that book.
I read it when I was tired, when I was lethargic, when I was excited and when I was sad. It worked for me the way I think the best kinds of books should work — as an escape.
My favorite characters, and I admit I could be cheating here, are the three main men in Liesel's life. Hans Hubermann, her foundation for strength and courage, and her guide. Strong and silent, an accordion-playing promise-keeper. I love him because he becomes a symbol of how strong men can be when they have got their virtues in check.
And then there is Max Vandenburg. He was hard to imagine in my head, except whenever we followed his point of view. But he was the epitome of suffering, of shame and humiliation, and patience. So much patience. I had always wondered how many could still insist on surviving on their
bed of suffering, and Max Vandenburg, I think gave me my answer: there is hope, and there is strength. A different kind of strength.
Lastly--and I took time to convince myself about this one--I love Rudy Steiner. Mischievous, but subtly heroic, he is Liesel's personal savior and better half without even knowing it.I sometimes wished she kissed him, for no reason except that he deserved that much. Rudy is Rudy, and Death was right.
All in all, the book is an enthralling web of suffering and surviving, of stolen books, borrowed accordions, true love nested in German curses, in finding out what matters and sticking to it once you do. Most of all, it is about humans, how powerful they are, and how terrible or wonderful they can be when they decide what to do with that power. Don't let the title fool you. It is barely about the books at all.
First impressions: I was attracted to the idea of a young, impoverished girl in a relationship with books. My hesitations came from the setting of the story — Nazi Germany. I don't hate history or historical fiction. I just never developed an appreciation for it.
After two years of wanting, I finally bought myself a copy of the book. (Only because my first-choice purchase wasn't there. The Book Thief really wasn't my priority because I was unsure.) It then took two weeks to get past the prologue, and another two weeks to complete the rest. I usually read books faster than that, but The Book Thief had a trudging slow pace. That, and the use of Death as the narrator, which was both interesting and confusing.
Unfavorites aside, I loved the book because it drew me in. The dragging description of nearly every day in Liesel's life gave me a certain experience of it. I watched everything and I overshadowed her life on a zoomed-in screen. My feelings through it were nostalgic and sentimental, perhaps a bit childish. Some people might hate that, but it worked for me. I resented anything the second it interrupted my rendezvous with the characters, I couldn’t wait to get back whenever I was away, and even though the ending was depressing, I didn't want it to go away. I had gotten used to living in that book.
I read it when I was tired, when I was lethargic, when I was excited and when I was sad. It worked for me the way I think the best kinds of books should work — as an escape.
My favorite characters, and I admit I could be cheating here, are the three main men in Liesel's life. Hans Hubermann, her foundation for strength and courage, and her guide. Strong and silent, an accordion-playing promise-keeper. I love him because he becomes a symbol of how strong men can be when they have got their virtues in check.
And then there is Max Vandenburg. He was hard to imagine in my head, except whenever we followed his point of view. But he was the epitome of suffering, of shame and humiliation, and patience. So much patience. I had always wondered how many could still insist on surviving on their
bed of suffering, and Max Vandenburg, I think gave me my answer: there is hope, and there is strength. A different kind of strength.
Lastly--and I took time to convince myself about this one--I love Rudy Steiner. Mischievous, but subtly heroic, he is Liesel's personal savior and better half without even knowing it.
Spoiler
He didn't deserve to die the way he did.All in all, the book is an enthralling web of suffering and surviving, of stolen books, borrowed accordions, true love nested in German curses, in finding out what matters and sticking to it once you do. Most of all, it is about humans, how powerful they are, and how terrible or wonderful they can be when they decide what to do with that power. Don't let the title fool you. It is barely about the books at all.