The Book Thief by Markus Zusak.

4/5 rating. 550 pages.

Book #13 of 2022. Read March 8, 2022.

This is an absolutely incredible book that is told by Death. He tells the story of a young girl named Liesel (later dubbed the Book Thief) raised near Munich during World War II.

Liesel is an orphan whose parents were Communists. She is adopted by a family with a wonderful father and loving, though hard and sometimes callous, mother. Liesel experiences not only the normal adolescent worries, but also those brought on by the war and the barbarity happening around her.

Markus is amazing in his explanations of the dichotomy of humans: so much good and so much evil. The kindness of some Germans toward Jews and their willingness to risk their lives for them, while others are ready to feed them straight into the fire. It is hard to imagine those Germans who were on the right side of history. By showing the everyday struggles of these people and their battle just to stay alive and help the Jews, it makes it easier to understand what they went through. This being true, while still keeping in mind Death’s statement: “The Germans in basements were pitiable, surely, but at least they had a chance. That basement was not a washroom. They were not sent there for a shower. For those people, life was still achievable.”

This book had me basically sobbing at points, so be prepared to have your heart torn out. Death comes for everyone at some point, and during the War, it came for so many much too soon. As Death says:

“I wanted to tell the book thief many things, about beauty and brutality. But what could I tell her about those things that she didn’t already know? 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.”

You should definitely read this book as it is so poetically written, and deals perfectly with the line between good and evil in every person.

Quotes:

“There was nothing left to give.”

“When it came down to it, one of them called the shots. The other did what he was told. The question is, what if the other is a lot more than one?”

“That’s the sort of thing I’ll never know, or comprehend – what humans are capable of.”

“The girl knew from the outset that Hans Hubermann would always appear midscream, and he would not leave.”

“Not leaving: an act of trust and love, often deciphered by children.”

“She was a girl with a mountain to climb.”

“In years to come, he would be a giver of bread, not a stealer – proof again of the contradictory human being. So much good, so much evil.”

“I know what happens and so do you. It’s the machinations that wheel us there that aggravate, perplex, interest, and astound me.”

“God never says anything. You think you’re the only one he never answers.”

“‘Better that we leave the pain behind,’ Hans told her, ‘than ever forget the music.’”

“Did they deserve any better, these people?”

“Silence was not quiet or calm, and it was not peace.”

“She heard his stomach growl – and he was giving people bread.”

“There was also a great longing to tell Rosa Hubermann that she loved her. It’s a shame she didn’t say it.”

“I thought you might be too old for such a tale, but maybe no one is.”

“While the words were growing, our young Führer also planted seeds to create symbols, and these, too, were well on their way to full bloom. Now the time had come. The Führer was ready.

He invited his people toward his own glorious heart, beckoning them with his finest, ugliest words, handpicked from his forests. And the people came.”

“Certainly, war meant dying, but it always shifted the ground beneath a person’s feet when it was someone who had once lived and breathed in close proximity.”

“Three languages interwove. The Russian, the bullets, the German.”

“There were people everywhere on the city street, but the stranger could not have been more alone if it were empty.”

“That woman lets you in. She even leaves you cookies, for Christ’s sake. I don’t call that stealing. Stealing is what the army does. Taking your father, and mine.”

“‘Tell me, Rosa, how she can sit there ready to die while I still want to live.’ The blood thickened. ‘Why do I want to live? I shouldn’t want to, but I do.’”

“‘Have me,’ they said, and there was no stopping them. They were frightened, no question, but they were not afraid of me. It was a fear of messing up and having to face themselves again, and facing the world, and the likes of you.”

“At first, Liesel could not talk. Perhaps it was the sudden bumpiness of love she felt for him. Or had she always loved him? It’s likely. Restricted as she was from speaking, she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to drag her hand across and pull her over. It didn’t matter where. Her mouth, her neck, her cheek. Her skin was empty for it, waiting.”

“‘Don’t punish yourself,’ she heard her say again, but there would be punishment and pain, and there would be happiness, too. That was writing.”

“It amazes me what humans can do, even when streams are flowing down their faces and they stagger on, coughing and searching, and finding.”

“Papa – the accordionist – and Himmel Street. One could not exist without the other, because for Liesel, both were home. Yes, that’s what Hans Hubermann was for Liesel Meminger.”

“The only thing he truly did know was that he’d have done anything to have been on Himmel Street that night so that Rudy survived rather than himself.”

“I am haunted by humans.”

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