I probably put off reading The Book Thief for a while, since it was likely during the school year and I was busy with everything, including assigned reading. (I actually struggled to do well in English class, harder than I had to struggle to do well in AP Calculus - reading is one thing, but analytical writing is, for me, far more difficult and annoying than finding the derivative of sin x squared plus y cubed.)
I know I read this book for the first time over the summer. I know I read it curled up in my pink butterfly chair. I probably read it while listening to the Pirates of the Caribbean soundtrack on repeat. This was my CD of choice at the time. Even now, I usually listen to the Hans Zimmer Pandora station, which plays a lot of songs from the four Pirates movies.
The Book Thief had me captivated immediately. Never in my life had I read a book with such strong imagery. On this read, which is at least the third time I've read the book, I couldn't stop crying through the first few chapters. Partly because I got emotional remembering myself curled up in my chair, most likely stroking my kitty Miles absentmindedly as he sat curled in my lap. Partly because I knew about all of the sad things that were coming. But mostly, because the book is so god damn beautiful that every bit of imagery had my eyes welling up. And there is a ton of imagery in this book. Voices personified more than I have ever seen in any other book. "She seemed to collect the words in her hand, pat them together, and hurl them across the table," p 35, is one of my favorite examples.
Of course, it's always hard to read about Nazi Germany, even if it's a beautiful story from the perspective of a preteen. This time, there was a passage that truly scared me. To set the scene for those who haven't read the book:
During the first air raid in the town of Molching, several families are huddled in an air raid shelter. They are all holding hands, silent, waiting for the raid to end.
"Did they deserve any better, these people?
How many had actively persecuted others, high on the scent of Hitler's gaze, repeating his sentences, his paragraphs, his opus? Was Rosa Hubermann responsible? ... Or Hans? Did they all deserve to die? The children?" (p 375-6.)
This passage always made sense to me when I read the book before. But never has it actually resonate with me before. Replace the name Hitler with Trump, and... well... you can probably figure out the rest. Reading this passage, I couldn't help but to envision a dark, scary future in which Trump is President and there is a second Civil War, and a group of people in Trump-America are huddled together, hoping not to die together, each unsure of how much of a part in this war each of them has.
Okay, I don't want to get too political here, but it had to be said. Moving on.
"There are lines on his cheeks. They look drawn on and, and for some reason, when I see them, I want to cry. It is not for any sadness or pride. I just like the way they move and change" (p 527).
This line made me cry a little. Because I realized that I am just like Liesel in that regard. Sometimes, I like something so much that I cry a little. A line in a book. The swell of notes in music - even in action movie soundtracks or pop songs, sometimes. A new scent that flows in through the open window. A loving hug, in real life or in a movie. People gathered together in the town square, singing Jingle Bells after Santa lit the Christmas tree. (That one happened this past Christmas.) Some things in life are so pretty, or nice, or normal, that I take a quiet moment to appreciate them, and my eyes water either a little or a lot. (Usually a lot.)
It's worth noting that The Book Thief is one of the only books-to-film that was truly perfect. Yes, the film cut out some scenes, but it's a 550-page book. The 2013 film really managed to capture the sad beauty of the book. That's the best way I can describe the tone of this book: Sad, beautiful. Tragically beautiful. Beautifully sad. Sometimes sad, sometimes beautiful, sometimes both at once. It's a book that really makes you feel. It's a book where, every few chapters, there's a sentence so beautiful, so powerful, so tragic, that you just have to stop reading and bask in it for a few moments before moving on. I won't quote any of those sentences here because it's unfair to pull them out of context and plaster them on to your screen, especially surrounded by my awkward, stumbling, rambling sentences. (I say that with all the pride in the world for my writing style, and perhaps a bit of inspiration from Zusak's style.)
I think I've said all that needs to be said about The Book Thief at this point, though I know I could ramble on about my love for the book for pages. If you haven't read this book yet, read it as soon as humanly possible. If you have read it, read it again when you get the chance. And watch the movie after you've read the book, because it's good enough that it won't ruin your image of the book.
I haven't quite decided which challenge to do next! It will likely be one of the following:
-Six Characters in Search of an Author, Luigi Pirandello - a book I can read in a day
-Lord of the Rings, J R R Tolkein - a book that intimidates me (yes, all 3 books!!)
-Too Far, Rich Shapero - a book that I previously abandoned
I've made my decision of what to read for most of the rest of the challenges, but I don't own any of them so I'll finally have to pay a visit to my library - which is only about two blocks away! And for the life of me, I don't know what to read for a book that was published before I was born. There are just way too many classics to choose from! (Scary thought: there are children at the appropriate reading level who could choose Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone for that challenge. Eeek!)
