Worth Repeating: The Book Thief
This is truly one of the most remarkable bits of literature I’ve ever read. I am enthralled. The writing is exquisite, lyrical, and captivating. Stop what you are doing and go buy, borrow, or steal this book. Set in Germany, during World War II – the description on the back reads: “It is 1929, Nazi Germany. The country is holding its breath. Death has never been busier, and will become busier still. ”
When the book closed, they shared a sideways glance. Papa spoke:
“We made it, huh?”
Liesel, half-wrapped in blanket, studied the black book in her hand and its silver lettering. She nodded, dry-mouthed and early-morning-hungry. It was one of those moments of perfect tiredness, of having conquered not only the work at hand, but the night who had blocked the way.
Papa stretched with his fists closed and his eyes grinding shut, and it was a morning that didn’t dare to be rainy. They each stood and walked to the kitchen, and through the fog and frost of the window, they were able to see the pink bars of light on the snowy banks of Himmel Street’s rooftops.
“Look at the colors,” Papa said. It’s hard not to like a man who not only notices the colors, but speaks them.
Liesel still held the book. She gripped it tighter as the snow turned orange. On one of the rooftops, she could see a small boy, sitting, looking at the sky: “His name was Werner,” she mentioned. The words trotted out, involuntarily.
Papa said, “Yes.”
The Book Thief