Book #2 - The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

[Dee]

The extraordinary #1 New York Times bestseller. Markus Zusak's unforgettable story is about the ability of books to feed the soul.

It is 1939. Nazi Germany. The country is holding its breath. Death has never been busier, and will become busier still.

Liesel Meminger is a foster girl living outside of Munich, who scratches out a meager existence for herself by stealing when she encounters something she can't resist-books. With the help of her accordion-playing foster father, she learns to read and shares her stolen books with her neighbors during bombing raids as well as with the Jewish man hidden in her basement.

In superbly crafted writing that burns with intensity, award-winning author Markus Zusak, author of I Am the Messenger, has given us one of the most enduring stories of our time.


About the Author
Markus Zusak is the author of I Am the Messenger, a Printz Honor Book and Los Angeles Times Book Award Finalist, and the international bestseller, The Book Thief, which has been translated into over thirty languages and has sold nine million copies around the world. He is the recipient of the Margaret A. Edwards Award for significant and lasting contribution to writing for teens and lives in Sydney, Australia, with his wife and children.

[Nic]

Great.
This one has been on my reading list since my friend recommended it last month. I planned to read it in the Summer.

[Lori]

Great, Nic - I just got my copy. I did see the movie a while back. Glad you are interested!

[Nic]

I have my book, it arrived today. I plan to enjoy during my two weeks leave which starts Friday Yay!

[Lori]

I am going to read this further on the airplane as I leave for the weekend. I'm sorry I am delinquent in reading and presenting this story, but then again I've always been a little delinquent. The tail's been wagging the dog in my life and the holidays won't remedy that!

So far, really an amazing perspective from which the author writes!

[Moonchime]

The Book Thief
Yes the time has come.
I know no-one is ready to discuss this but I reckon I've got to make a start before I completely forget the whole book. Maybe it will spur someone on.
It's probably best not to read this if you're still reading the book so as not to spoil anything for yourself although I think there is really only one real spoiler alert.

I wondered how I’d feel about Death being used as a narrator in this story, but I can see now that it was a clever device for adding a fresh viewpoint on events and experiences that have been written about many times.
Zusak can immediately draw the reader in, stirring their curiosity about the colours of the sky and the observations of humans; making them wonder who this third person is. It enables a distance from events while allowing pertinent reflections on humanity and the terrible events that take place through the book. We are able to feel them even more poignantly through the “eyes” of the final incumbent of life. Death talks about “tenderly carrying” or being constantly in demand; it has the advantage of being able to comment as a non-human; although I for one, felt Death had a distinctly human side as evidenced by so many of his/her reactions:

"He does something to me, that boy. Every time. It's his only detriment. He steps on my heart. He makes me cry.”

So Death does have a heart eh?

“A small but noteworthy note. I've seen so many young men over the years who think they're running at other young men. They are not. They are running at me.”
Ah the sad truth of this.

Zusak’s characters I found wonderfully rich. Hans Hubermann the gentle accordion player who works his magic with patience and gentleness wins your heart but he is a troubled man: he lives while others have died. He owes a debt that brings terrible risk to his family, but he cannot escape his fate even when his natural desire to help one of the Jews being paraded results in having to turn Max out. He knows to be true to himself is to put all he loves at risk. How can he win?

Mrs. Hubermann does not win Liesel’s heart in the same way that her husband does but it is clear to us all, and indeed to Liesel, that she loves her family dearly. It is a great relief to find someone able to put that across while at the same time describing her hitting Liesel with the wooden spoon.
I am not advocating the latter, but times were different then and love will make itself felt despite imperfections, something which we can be in danger of forgetting in a very PC world.
She finds it so much more difficult to show her emotions and yet how tenderly she holds her husband’s accordion when he is away and how eagerly she goes to the school to tell Liesel that Max is better. I felt that was the only way she knew how to cope without the difficulties of her life overwhelming her; she had to keep her emotions in check in order to go on:

“Make no mistake, the woman had a heart. She had a bigger one that people would think. There was a lot in it, stored up, high in miles of hidden shelving. Remember that she was the woman with the instrument strapped to her body in the long, moon-slit night.”

What a very powerful image this evoked and how aptly he describes the hidden heart.

Liesel’s character is perhaps the one that develops most through the story as she grows in age and maturity, holding fast to her fascination for books and words throughout all that happens. Zusak is more than a little fond of using irony in the book and the very title, whilst catching your imagination, is not really accurate as Liesel is very careful to start with only to take books that no-one else wants. Her behaviour does change with Isla Hermann although even then she knows Isla is aware of what she is doing. She longs for books even though, originally she can’t read.


“She was the book thief without the words.”

How typically human to long for what she doesn’t have.
How wonderful then, that with the help of Hans she is able to slowly, but surely, conquer the world of the written word.

“Trust me, though, the words were on their way, and when they arrived, Liesel would hold them in her hands like the clouds, and she would wring them out like rain.”

That image of Liesel extracting every last drop of meaning and life from words is so powerful and helps you to understand the strength of her passion and need. It was in images like that I would feel the power of Zusak’s use of language and the poet in him. It didn’t happen with every description, but when it did it swept me away and it was that imagery that most moved me.


I love the feeling of community, the street life, that Zusak evokes with all its petty squabbles and gossip; it’s a microcosm of the world with all its faults and in its analysis we see ourselves; families with problems and heartache and prejudice, brought closer by the hard times; pain unites them.

Spoiler:

I found the chapter on the bombing of the street one of the hardest to read; Liesel coming up from the cellar to find all she had loved gone. I knew it was coming but it was just a little too much for me – there was no-one left – well one person... that was the essential redemption I suppose.
Without Max and the reunion I would have been so angry, even though I know truth is no respecter of feelings, authors perhaps have to be.
They say true Tragedy should be uplifting and I have to admit that come the end of the book I did not feel uplifted, just rather wrung out and wondering if the real Liesels in life could manage to carry on and live happily, or if they would be just too broken.

I did enjoy the book, mostly for its rich characterisation and poetic images. It was good to read a war story from the viewpoint of a German family, albeit from one that was not really sympathetic to the Nazi cause.
It did make me think that the real challenge would be to evoke as much sympathy whilst showing how a normal family supported the status quo.
Zusak certainly has some admirable skills as a writer and some of Death’s comments are still buzzing around in my head because somewhere they hit a half formed thought or realisation.

“Like most misery, it started out with apparent happiness."


“The question is, what colour will everything be at that moment when I come for you? What will the sky be saying?”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

I wait patiently in the Book Cove should anyone sail by.

[Moonchime]

photographer unknown

When attempting to explain the material conditions that permitted Adolf Hitler's rise, many point to Germany's devastating experience with hyperinflation.

In this photo, taken in 1923, children playing with worthless German currency. At the height of Germany’s hyperinflation, it took 4.2 trillion Deutsche Marks to equal $1 USD.

Information and photo from allthatsinteresting.com

[Lori]

MC - I know I risk making you collapse to the floor, but I am now halfway through the book and loving it. I am waiting to read the above, but look forward to discussing this with you (and others?...NR - you may enjoy it while you are recuperating? Dee, I know you are steadfastly or steadslowly also working on it). Let's not let this dissuade us from another selection in the future. For some reason, this one was just hard to dive into!



The above photographs of children playing with Deutsche Marks is just crazy. It's incredibly hard to process how that all happened and in relatively recent history!

[Moonchime]

Lori I cannot tell you how thrilled I am!!
I was on the floor but now am just having difficulties getting my breathing back to normal.

Spoiler:

I have not gone into any other part of the harbour yet - once I saw that little tick the palpitations started.

I'm so glad you're enjoying it - half way through's good enough for me - though I suspect you'll sail to the end now. Hurray and thank you.

[Lori]

MC, I have finished the book and read your very interesting and insightful comments above. Some of the quotes and observations you have highlighted hit me hard also. I will return when work allows this week and join you. Thank you for your beautiful thoughts.

[Moonchime]

So glad you've finished and enjoyed it.
I await your return when life and work allows it.

[Lori]

“I have hated words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right.”
~ The Book Thief

At times, I’ve wondered if it can be a detriment when authors speak through characters so intimately their own questions, perceptions, agendas, and values. In this case, I think it is sweet revelation and a lasting gift. That Markus Zusak loves the written word is deeply apparent in this amazing work, spun down and entitled simply yet poignantly The Book Thief.

“The best word shakers were the ones who understood the true power of words. They were the ones who could climb the highest. One such word shaker was a small, skinny girl. She was renowned as the best word shaker of her region because she knew how powerless a person could be WITHOUT words.”

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me? I don’t think so.

The POWER of words. In this beautiful giving piece of literature, words reign supreme while hidden beneath garments, written in dank cellars, or handed gently down from a harshly-seasoned yet not irreparably damaged man called Hans Hubermann. Words to instruct, infuse expression, and ultimately free the human mind. Amen and Amen. Words are the wings of ideas.

“I like that every page in every book can have a gem on it. It's probably what I love most about writing—that words can be used in a way that's like a child playing in a sandpit, rearranging things, swapping them around. They're the best moments in a day of writing—when an image appears that you didn't know would be there when you started work in the morning.” ~ Markus Zusak

Isn’t this the apex of art? The surprise of it all in this process of creation? Whether it be the written word, painted canvas, composed song, or….arranged stones in the water spiraling circular and shimmering in the sunlight, all things that appeared where first there was nothing and provide a sweetly jolting release from reality into the blue. Or perhaps an expression of reality named and therefore somewhat tamed. "Look at this thing. Look at the beauty - the tragedy - the triumph - the message - the memory...or simplicity speaking. The colors of humanity."

“It’s a small story really, about, among other things:

* A girl
* Some words
* An accordionist
* Some fanatical Germans
* A Jewish fist fighter
* And quite a lot of thievery”

But, is it really? In my humble opinion, it is not a small story and it is not about the above seemingly small subjects.

Zusak streams his thoughts from the pen, through the Narrator “Death”, and blows them from his palm into the world in an array of colors. By the end of The Book Thief, I understood more fully the Narrator. Truly, for me the stage Zusak created wasn’t that of the bleak setting of Himmel Street or the burning bombs of war. Instead, it was with color that he and his Narrator, Death, set the stage - the splendidly mercurial colors of humanity.

“I could introduce myself properly, but it's not really necessary. You will know me well enough and soon enough, depending on a diverse range of variables. It suffices to say that at some point in time, I will be standing over you, as genially as possible. Your soul will be in my arms. A color will be perched on my shoulder. I will carry you gently away.”

“…The question is, what color will everything be at that moment when I come for you? What will the sky be saying?

“People observe the colors of a day only at its beginnings and ends, but to me it’s quite clear that a day merges through a multitude of shades and intonations, with each passing moment. A single hour can consist of thousands of different colors. Waxy yellows, cloud-spat blues. Murky darknesses. In my line of work, I make it a point to notice them.”
~ Death

On the Book Thief’s last day, the sky was red.

The above descriptive colors of the day from beginning to end represent to me an arc of a life.

_________________________________________________________________


Oh, the characters forever milling about Himmel Street are permanently ingrained in our hearts!

Liesel Meminger – The Book Thief in all her finery. The full rainbow arc of human life in the story – the one who caught Death’s eye and represented the finer points from start to finish. The “glorious’. She was perfect in her imperfection and pure in her loving.

Hans Hubermann “Papa” – Our sad eyed Teddy Bear pillar of strength. The Book Thief’s forever touchstone and shining example of the gray area of choices, promises kept, and quiet perseverance.

Rosa Hubermann “Mama” - Tough love incarnate. As Mz. Moonchime quoted “Make no mistake, the woman had a heart…” We worried about Rosa when the bravado faded and berating ceased. We knew at that moment the bullet had hit the bone...just got real. And yes, she was the woman who held that accordion to her heart with all it represented, much like she held Liesel to her heart.

Rudy Steiner – “The boy next door”. Soul mate. Cohort in childhood crimes and forever frozen golden-haired and sopping wet from fishing a book from a river. This was a real relationship written so faithfully.

“On many counts, taking a boy like Rudy Steiner was robbery--so much life, so much to live for--yet somehow, I'm certain he would have loved to see the frightening rubble and the swelling of the sky on the night he passed away. He'd have cried and turned and smiled if only he could have seen the book thief on her hands and knees, next to his decimated body. He'd have been glad to witness her kissing his dusty, bomb-hit lips. Yes, I know it. In the darkness of my dark-beating heart, I know. He'd have loved it all right. You see? Even death has a heart.”

Max Vandenburg – Representation of a beating heart. The only beating heart. A buried blue flickering flame. To let him be stolen and snuffed would blacken the entire sky on Himmel Street. So much humanity rested in his writing, actions, and meaning. His were the feet they washed while risking their own existences. Yet, to do otherwise would be trading their own souls. He was a promise kept, and that bodes hope for the future.

I loved the flavored characters on Himmel Street. The Mayor’s wife, neighbors, villains. Liesel’s younger brother, Werner, was a beautiful and haunting marker for her emotional progress. She felt the expectation and need to rise to the level of who he (and she) felt she could ultimately be. His departure was a milestone, bittersweet and exquisite in the fare-thee-well.

DEATH: Mostly, however, I loved this Narrator with his pragmatic sensibilities (Death is a man, correct? ) and deep underlying tenderness. This book to me is more about the Narrator than Liesel, the ostensible main character. Indeed, when asked what Death looks like, he encourages the reader to “look in the mirror”. This is a reflective look at our layers.

“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 their love visions and freed them from their fear.”

“A human doesn't have a heart like mine. 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."

I AM HAUNTED BY HUMANS

“I wanted to explain that I am constantly overestimating and underestimating the human race - that rarely do I even 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...
I AM HAUNTED BY HUMANS.” ~ Death