In the fifth chapter of The Book Thief, we learn how Death came to meet young Liesel Meminger. Intrigued? Then it’s time for Mark to read The Book Thief.
PART ONE
the grave digger’s handbook
CH. 5: ARRIVAL ON HIMMEL STREET
I can somewhat get a feel for what we’ll see from a portion of this book. That’s not to say that Zusak doesn’t have a lot to surprise me with, but the book is starting to come together in small ways. We now have absolute confirmation that this book is taking place during Hitler’s reign in Germany, and, guessing from the list of intended topics for Death to go over on the page introducing  Part One, chapters five through fourteen comprise this first section. That’s a guess, but I could be wrong.
This chapter seems to be as long as all of the prologue put together and it was nice to get into the swing of things. Zusak’s style still includes portions of prose strung together to form the larger narrative of the story and, unlike I predicted at the end of chapter four, Death is still the narrator. Death will be telling us what this book is and I get less of a feeling that the book is entirely written by the book thief. But we’ll see.
Death flashes back to the first time he meets the book thief. It’s when Death took her brother as he died on a trip to Munich to go live in a foster how. Death still interrupts segments with those bolded sections that seem to act as asides to the reader, clueing them into things they were not or might not be privy to. The book thief’s brother, only six years old, died suddenly after a bout of intense coughing. Then, as Death puts it, just “nothing.â€
With one eye open, one still in a dream, the book thief—also know as Liesel Meminger—could see without question that her younger brother, Werner, was now sideways and dead.
His blue eyes stared at the floor.
Seeing nothing.
It doesn’t take Zusak long to get to the tragedy of all this, and I don’t imagine there will be little of this to come. Liesel is just nine years old when her brother dies and her mother takes her to Munich in hopes to give her a more steady life in a foster home than what she can give her. It’s insinuated that this is an act inspired by the hopeless poverty that they live in, but as of yet, nothing is confirmed. Still, this, too, is an act of tragedy, having to give up your son and daughter to strangers to give them a better life. Oh, and then your son dies on the way there.
Fuck.
Next, her mother.
She woke her up with the same distraught shake.
If you can’t imagine it, think clumsy silence. Think bits and pieces of floating despair. And drowning in a train.
Ok, again, will not defend this to anyone because I completely get not liking this: I like Zusak’s style. It is brief and choppy, but it’s very frank. He’ll choose this sort of poeticism to use, but make it very matter-of-fact. There is a neat rhythm to the way these words unfold, one to the next, that I appreciate.
On the way to Munich, as snow fell heavily to the ground, Liesel and her mother have to watch Werner be buried. The Munich train was stopped because of the weather, so Liesel doesn’t even know what city she is in when they take a side trip with a priest and two gravediggers to lay little Werner to rest.
I don’t quite understand Death’s intrigue with Liesel, but he spends two days away from her after he first sees her (and she apparently sees him) before, against his better judgment, he returns to watch Wener get buried.
From miles away, as I approached, I could already see the small group of humans standing frigidly among the wasteland of snow. The cemetery welcomed me like a friend, and soon, I was with them. I bowed my head.
Death has seen millions upon billions of souls leave Earth. Why does he attend this ceremony? What is so special about Liesel Meminger?
I don’t know yet, but I do get to see the moment that Liesel earns her nickname:
Standing to Liesel’s left, the grave diggers were rubbing their hands together and whining about the snow and the current digging conditions. “So hard getting through all the ice,†and so forth. One of them couldn’t have been more than fourteen. An apprentice. When he walked away, after a few dozen paces, a black book fell innocuously from his coat pocket without his knowledge.
Liesel doesn’t notice it at first, understandably so, because she becomes entirely consumed by grief. We’re just five chapters in and I’m already sad.
Still in disbelief, she started to dig. He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t—
Within seconds, snow was carved into her skin.
Frozen blood was cracked acrossher hands.
Somewhere in all the snow, she could see her broken heart, in two pieces. Each half was glowing, and beating under all that white. She realized her mother had come back for her only when she felt the boniness of a hand on her shoulder. She was being dragged away. A warm scream filled her throat.
Nine years old. Nine years old. Good god. As Liesel and her mother leave, Liesel notices a book with silver writing on the cover. And she steals it. The book thief. What is the book? What’s inside of it? I’m beginning to think it’s impossible for the book to be about Liesel, since someone else owned it. Unless…was the book Death picked up a different one from this one?
A final, soaking farewell was let go of, and they turned and left the cemetery, looking back several times.
As for me, I remained a few moments longer.
I waved.
No one waved back.
I shouldn’t, but I laughed. This is a bit too silly for me. Why is Death waving at anyone, for that matter? Suddenly, I had an image of Death crying into his scarf on his walk home and listening to Jawbreaker. Oh god, I should never write a book, it will be ridiculous.
On the complete opposite end of the spectrum, though, Zusak writes a sentence (which I will bold in the next quote) that literally made me stop for a couple minutes because it hit me so hard.
When the train pulled into the Banhof in Munich, the passengers slid out as if from a torn package. There were people of every stature, but among them, the poor were the most easily recognized. The impoverished always try to keep moving, as if relocating might help. They ignore the reality that a new version of the same old problem will be waiting at the end of the trip—the relative you cringe to kiss.
As someone who grew up extremely poor, HOLY GOD THAT IS SO RIGHT. It’s eerie how fitting that is. I love it when once sentence can knock you down like that. I LOVE BOOKS, Y’ALL.
The remaining two members of the Meminger family continue on their journey to the foster home, the sorrow of their reality weighing them down. And Zusak continues to make this chapter one of the most depressing things I’ve ever read:
There was the chaos of goodbye.
It was a goodbye that was wet, with the girl’s head buried into the wooly, worn shallows of her mother’s coat. There had been some more dragging.
Liesel lost her brother and is now losing her mother, too. Gutting. Holy shit, this is intense. Liesel, consumed by the sadness of it all, is taken in a car to her foster parents, the Humbermans, who live in a city called Molching. On a street with the name of Himmel. Which translates to “Heaven.†IT HURTS, EVERYTHING HURTS.
There was the constant rise and fall of her stomach, and the futile hopes that they’d lose their way or change their minds. Among it all, her thoughts couldn’t help turning torward her mother, back at the Bahnhof, waiting to leave again. Shivering. Bundled up in that useless coat. She’d be eating her nails, waiting for the train. The platform would be long and uncomfortable—a slice of cold cement. Would she keep an eye out for the approximate burial site of her son on the return trip? Or would sleep be too heavy?
The car moved on, with Liesel dreading the last, lethal turn.
There’s a finality in the way this is written, and it makes me feel futile. I have a feeling Liesel will never see her mother again. This is it. Perhaps it’s the hopelessness that comes with knowing that there’s no going back. She’s going to live in foster care, with new parents who might say they love their “daughter,†but everyone will know it’s not the same. It’s not the same. It can certainly grow into that. I mean, I lived with my biological mother, then foster care, then my adoptive parents. I love my adoptive parents, and no one else. They’re who I grew to love.
With trepidation and terror, Liesel arrives on Himmel Street to meet her new parents, Hans and Rosa Hubermann. And Liesel just flat out refuses to get out of the call. Perhaps she believed that if she didn’t move, they’d have to take her back. Contact her mother and send her back on the train to home. But Hans Hubermann finally coaxes her out of the car. We don’t know what he says to her to get her out, but it happens. And she leaves her entire familiar world behind to live with the Hubermanns. I don’t know enough about them to know whether I should be anxious or excited by them. I’ll have to wait to see how they’ll turn out.
The more important thing now, though, is the fact that the narration turns back to that small black book that Liesel stole. And then we learn what that specific book is:
* * * THE GRAVE DIGGER’S HANDBOOK * * *
A Twelve-Step Guide to
Grave-Digging Success
Published by the Bayern Cemetery Association
The book thief had struck for the first time—the beginning of an illustrious career.
Oh christ, her brother was just buried. She’s not going to….
Ok, nevermind, BAD THOUGHT. There is an interesting phrase used here: “for the first time.†Does this mean the book Death got after the third time he saw Liesel was at the end of a long line of books? That could mean it is her own book as well.
I like this a lot so far.
Death seems like a really lonely "character" [I use quotes because character doesn't quite seem to encapsulate just what he is]. Waving and no one waves back…which makes sense since I'm assuming he can't be seen. Although didn't he admit that Liesel saw him in the prologue?
But the funeral scene? Absolutely heart wrenching. I couldn't believe how on point and brutal it was for being so short.
And after Liesel transitions into the care of her foster parents, all I could imagine was the mother…headed back home on the train…in her pathetic excuse for a coat…in the snow. Empty handed. How horrific. I really wish we could learn more of the back story and understand how the family got to the point where putting her two children into foster care was her only option.
And for the record…I never once considered that Liesel may consider digging up her brother. THANK YOU FOR PUTTING THAT GOD AWFUL IMAGE IN MY HEAD. :shudder:
This book makes me a bit sad all over.
I don't think that Liesel saw death in the literal sense of a figure standing there, but more in the metaphorical sense. She saw the abstract death as we think of it, not the character/narrator we see presented here. That's how I read it if that makes any sense…
I agree with you that death seems quite lonely and sad, and I feel badly for him. (I'll go with the masculine for now since the author is male).
It will be interesting to follow along as you read this book. I don't feel these wrap-ups will welcome the usual comments from followers. I could be alone in my opinion of this.
I've read this book but I am at a loss for how to comment on what you just read (I am also afraid to spoil anything as it has been a while since I read it)- so I'll just say "Keep reading!"
"Still in disbelief, she started to dig. He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t—
Within seconds, snow was carved into her skin.
Frozen blood was cracked across her hands."
<img src="http://i53.tinypic.com/2ecl0dg.gif" border="0" alt="Image and video hosting by TinyPic"> "It was a goodbye that was wet, with the girl’s head buried into the wooly, worn shallows of her mother’s coat. There had been some more dragging."
Oh Liesel. I just want to hug her but you know what she'd really want is her brother and the comfort of burying your face in your mother's hug. She's just a nine year old child who's little brother is buried in a town she doesn't even know the name of, who as far as we know may never see her mother again and here she is clinging to the front gate of her new home because she doesn't want to go in. It's all so sad.
Liesel's dream about Hitler on the train is interesting because I think it demonstrates that, as much as we look back and revile him, at the time Hitler was a popular leader, so much so that a little girl has a good dream about being at a rally and talking to him.
I will probably say this multiple times throughout the book but I love the style of writing and simply adore the descriptions. I can understand why people don't like it but for me it's just perfect.
On a lighter note: “A TRANSLATION OF ROSA HUBERMANN'S ANNOUNCEMENT "What are you assholes looking at?"” Rosa you instantly have my love.
OMG DON'T CRY WILF. :'( :'( :'(
I HAVE DECIDED. I WANT A WILF AND A DEATH. AND I WANT TO GIVE THEM BOTH HUGS. LIESEL TOO. IN FACT, WHY CAN I NOT ADOPT ALL FICTIONAL CHARACTERS EVER, MY LIFE IS A TRAGEDY.
IT REALLY IS. AND LUPIN. AND HARRY. AND SIRIUS. AND PEETA. AND CINNA. AND FINNICK AND THE LIST GOES ON AND ON. I WANT TO HUG YOU GUYS. WHY AREN'T YOU REAL. I ORDER YOU TO BE REAL. OBEY ME.
/creepy.
Oh god, I should never write a book, it will be ridiculous.
You should definitely write a book, it might be ridiculous.
(You know, if you want to.)
Mark Read's Mark's book?
YES PLEASE
But my head hurts to think about spoiler policies and such
Oh man, the way Zusak writes just GUTS ME. I mean, you get all caught up in the poetry and the flow of the words, and then all of a sudden the sadness comes out and punches you in the face.
This book is beautiful, but it makes my tummy hurt. 🙁
Getting caught up in it and then punched in the face is a perfect way to describe it. It flows along so well, and then suddenly you just kind of stumble because a line or phrase or passage will hit you and you have to pause and really react.
"One day, I will give you a kitten. You will fall in love with the kitten. And then one day in the middle of the night, I'm going to come, and I'm going to sneak into your house, and I'm going to punch you in the face."
Sorta like that. 😛
Is that Sue Sylvester?
It is. 😀 One of my favorite quotes from that series (although I only ever saw Season 1, I'm way behind.)
I honestly take every word and analyze it, which get tiring, but I love those moments where you find hidden meaning. 😀 Makes me feel ~speshul~.
Yes, this is all sadness on top of sadness, but on the heels of The Hunger Games' abrupt bam-bam style, this seems more soothing. Soothing and misery. Nice combo.
Soothing and misery.
That is an excellent description of this chapter.
Pretty much! A+ description.
When the train pulled into the Banhof in Munich, the passengers slid out as if from a torn package. There were people of every stature, but among them, the poor were the most easily recognized. The impoverished always try to keep moving, as if relocating might help. They ignore the reality that a new version of the same old problem will be waiting at the end of the trip—the relative you cringe to kiss.
That passage struck me, too. I love the imagery of the torn package; the people are moving out as if by diffusion, not under their own power or guidance, but simply in the direction of less pressure. It's passive. And though the poor keep moving, it's out of desperation, not choice, and their problems are following them. Everyone is a bit adrift.
There was another line about Liesel's slippery heart that I liked, too. I'm glad the florid language and sentence structure have grown on you Mark!
Oh, and when Rosa Hubermann is described as a wardrobe, did anyone else imagine her looking like the armoire from Beauty and the Beast? I love the imagery in this book.
Yes! I had to stop for a minute and get the image of the wardrobe out of my head because otherwise I’d never take Rosa Hubermann seriously. 🙂
This book. I love that little touch on the main page though you did. Nice job there.
This book though… GAAGGHHH WAAAAAAAAHHHHH!! Gut punched. Heart broken. Now the nightmare’s real.
So just a couple of weeks ago, before I knew this was going to be the next Mark Reads book, I re-read The Book Thief for something like the 4th or 5th time straight through. This book affects me so deeply. I'm so glad a trustworthy source first recced it to me with such enthusiasm, because otherwise I might have passed it by; as an Orthodox Jew who grew up with Holocaust stories–including my grandparents'– at every turn, I don't generally feel the need or desire to read WWII stories. But this one is very, very different.
Anyway, my favorite line of this chapter may be: "In the words of the book thief herself, the journey continued like *everything* had happened." I love that. I think there's a subtle cleverness to that line.
Ah, I remember noting that line as well, I really liked it.
That is a good line.
THIS BOOK IS BEAUTIFUL, Y’ALL. No, really it is. Suzak's writing style IS brief and choppy, as Mark put it, but there's also such a beauty about it, it's frank and honest and, at times, downright cruel. But given the circumstances, it's supposed to be. The fact that all of this is happening to a nine year old gutted me. But it also gave me a feeling of reality, because THIS happened, to a lot of people, and the poetry and irony and sad of it, it's just, GAH I LOVE THIS BOOK. Also, Death is waving. Do I really need to say anything else? I don't think so.
ENDLESS SAD. Just endless sad.
I second this.
We’re just five chapters in and I’m already sad.
Taste the sad, Mark. Taste the sad.
Suddenly, I had an image of Death crying into his scarf on his walk home and listening to Jawbreaker.
Ha ha ha, given that I have two Jawbreaker songs, and one of them is "I Love You So Much It's Killing Us Both," this image is even more absurd than it should be.
Zusak writes a sentence (which I will bold in the next quote) that literally made me stop for a couple minutes because it hit me so hard.
This won't be the last time, I bet.
I am so impatient for you to meet [spoiler] and get to [spoiler] and read that one line where [spoiler] and that oh God that part where [spoiler] and then [spoiler].
(Okay, you guys, you do realize this is an opening for Fake Spoiler Mad Libs.)
I am so impatient for you to meet their neighbour Bob and get to the crazy zeppelin race across Europe and read that one line where it's revealed he's actually a fob watched Time Lord and that oh God that part where they fix Donna and then they all run away in the TARDIS together.
But shhhh, don't tell Mark.
Hey! Let's not give too much away!
I am so impatient for you to meet [Death's cat, Fluffy] and get to [the part about yo-yos] and read that one line where [Zusak clearly rips off Jane Austen] and that oh God that part where [Fluffy kills a mouse] and then [eats it].
Yes! He also takes [a potato chip] and then he [EATS IT!].
Sorry, couldn't help myself. Because my mind if all over the place like that.
And this chapter makes me sad. I can't stand when hurt comes to children. Damn you Zusak.
I love what you said about that sentence hitting you so hard. I feel like Zusak does that kind of thing a lot- says something so simply and bluntly, but in a way that's so truthful we immediately know the exact feeling. My favorite line in this chapter (and possibly the whole book) that made me react the same way was when Death was describing Liesel shaking her brother, and wondering why humans alway try to shake the dead awake. "To stem the tide of truth." he says. I love that, it completely bowled me over when I read that.
Speculation: Liesel has found a gravedigger's handbook, and she is the Book Thief, so… she steals books from people buried with them? That's my guess.
I need to actually acquire a copy of this book so I can get the full effect. Reading the reviews only is just not the same.
Oh wow, that would be morbid and interesting.
You can read an e-version of the book online on epubbud.com, just search "The Book Thief." Some of the formatting is lost, but it's mostly good, and that could tide you along until you get your hands on a copy. That's what I was doing until I was able to find a library copy.
Thanks for the link!
I'm really liking this book, the writing style seems to add to the story itself, rather than just being a gimmick (as I feared at first). What's struck the most, though, is how the narrative style is pretty much the opposite end of the spectrum from The Hunger Games. With those books you get a first person, straight-forward telling of the story from the main character's point of view; on the other hand, with this book, the storytelling isn't even third person from the perspective of the main character (like Harry Potter was), but a separate person (can we call Death a person?) telling the story.
And yet, despite that the narrator is detached from the events of the story, it is still so very, very tragic (and I'm worried about how much worse is likely is going to get!)
That line about Death waving goodbye made me laugh, as did a line later in the chapter describing a woman,
The squat shape of Rosa Hubermann who looked like a small wardrobe with a coat thrown over it.
I can totally imagine exactly what this woman looks like now, but that is a hilarious way to describe the shape of a woman! Or maybe all the sads have made me jaded to how sad it is that a woman would look like that in the first place. :-/
"Whoever named Himmel Street certainly had a healthy sense of irony. Not that it was a living hell. It wasn't. But it sure as hell wasn't heaven, either" Probably my favorite quote in the entire book.
Death has got *quite* the sense of humour!
While there is a simple poetry in the writing style that I like, it just doesn't make me feel connected to any of the characters. I always feel very aware of the fact that we are being told a story, and so I haven't felt that anything is *sad* yet. Werner dies and it's just that general sympathetic feeling you get when you read in a newspaper article that someone you don't know has died and "Oh, isn't that a shame. Moving on now…" so I'm still wondering if I will find this book as sad as everyone else seems to. *Shrug* Time will tell.
I loved the "I waved. No one waved back." part. Death strikes me as a friendly, even innocent kind of being. I just want to give him a hug or something.
I feel the same way. I tend to feel detached when a story is clearly being told to me and it isn't being told by someone who is interacting with any of the characters they're talking about.
The prose is beautiful, most of the time, but not engaging. I guess. Not yet. But it's only the fifth chapter so I'm sure I'll get attached to the characters eventually.
Someday, when you get some time (if that ever happens) you should read Beatrice and Virgil by Yann Martel. I thought of it yesterday when a commenter was emphasizing that this isn't the Hunger Games, it's real life. Beatrice and Virgil is an exploration of the 'rules' regarding literature first, it's a combination of novel and play which breaks real boundaries in and of itself, but it also challenges the mystique surrounding certain historical events – particularly WWII and the Holocaust, and how society does not welcome real "fiction" about the era unless it is true-to-life fiction, a reflection of actual historical events with fictional characters standing in for real people. It's also just a really good read.
The question becomes: does it matter that this novel is set in a dystopian past, rather than a dystopian future? Does it or should it change how we experience the literature? After all, it's fiction.
Excellent suggestion. I'll check that book out.
Oh, that sounds really interesting *jots down*
Totally, me too! Ridiculous and random, makes for a good read!
But who would we read it with or would Mark do a Mark Reads Mark's book?
Oh dear. That feels like it could quickly become a Doctor-Who style paradox!!!
I think we're safe as long we don't cross the streams with a Mark Spoils Mark Reads Mark's Book site.
Although at least it would give Mark a chance to constantly tell us how unprepared we are.
it would be funny.
GUYS, YOU ARE NOT PREPARED.
let's see how we like it 😉
but i'm so glad Mark's reading the Book Thief because it is ONE OF MY FAVOURITEST BOOKS EVA, Y/Y/Y/Y?
Y.
There would have to be a disclaimer at the beignning of the book, "Haters, please familiarize yourselves with the left-hand evacuation procedure." Also, "You are not prepared."
Nail on the head–the way it was written (though I'll not deny it was beautiful and eerie and poetic and heartwrenching,) put me off after about the first ten chapters. I just couldn't keep up with that; and then I felt guilty for not liking it. Same with American Gods. They're these books that I see exactly WHY I ought to like them, and I want to like them so badly, and then I feel frustrated and like a horrible person because I simply don't/can't and sometimes I can't put my finger on why.
I really like this chapter, its very sad, yes, with Leisal trying to unbury her brother, having to watch him die and everything, and then her mother leaving her with a foster home, but all in all its really very real.
Death is quite the narrator….that's very true, but all in all I'm glad that hes the narrator, for this story, it feels right. I have to say that this line really stuck out to me, "I traveled the globe as always, handing souls to the conveyor belt of eternity. " I really like that metaphor, I don't know why, maybe it is a little corny but it really stuck out to me….conveyor belt of eternity, that theres a line of souls, systematically going on to eternity, and the afterlife. All those souls, all the deaths, yeah, I liked that line…
Looking forward to the next chapter, when we get to know the Hubermanns a bit better….
This passage really got to me. You'd think that Death would be inured to this type of occurence, and would think the symbolism and ritual humans drape around death and dying is pointless and tedious, but here Death is, astounded by the idea that someone could do something as symbolically damning as dropping their own dead child, completely staggered by the fact that that person could carry on seemingly without pause or repercussion.
Now that I'm actually reading the book (yay ebooks), I think the short, simple narrative style works perfectly. It's full of imagery, and it makes me feel a little bit like I'm reading a graphic novel. Each scene is pictured so clearly in my mind that it's like seeing a series of snapshots or illustrations.
I also feel like everything's in shades of black and grey, with brief flashes of color. Like the art style of Limbo, or possibly this video I saw the other day. I don't know, something about this song/video seems to reflect the meloncholy (but also vaguely hopeful) mood of this book.
(I wanted to embed this but it won't work, so here's a link instead: http://vimeo.com/20823980 )
I was about to quibble about your putting 'daughter' in quote marks, but luckily read the rest of the paragraph. I see why you did it, since you see things on a different scale. I was adopted too (when I was 4) but never knew my biological family, my parents are the ones that raised me and that's that. It's very different to remember going from one home to another.
Poor Liesel though, I can't imagine what it's like to lose a sibling then your mother, she sounds scared out of her mind and the narration of Death being a distant figure is very interesting. Some of the sentences are very poignant and I'm trying to find the book so I can read it too!
Although I'm enjoying Zusak's prose, I must say I haven't yet been that affected by the content. So far we've had quite a few tragic things described – the death of Werner, the graveyard scene, the separation of Liesel from her mother, etc., but although (as some other poster put it) I feel a general sadness as when reading about horrific tragedies in newspapers, I've yet to feel proper, heartrending emotion or utter sadness. I think this is because I don't really know the characters yet – they've barely been introduced to us, and we hardly know anything about them. Until I know a lot more about these characters, and until I've 'bonded' with them and grown to love them as I have with so many other literary characters, I just don't really care about what happens to them – at the moment they're just names on a page. I think this lack of empathy problem is also compounded by the fact that, from page one, everything has been in a very tragic tone, and its been one heartbreaking line after another, and so now, five chapters in, it's having less of an effect on me (still a bit, but less). I feel that I need some variance in tone, some highs as it were, so that the lows can be properly effective, if that makes any sense. I think that to make the reader really care about a something bad happening to a character, you have to show the normal, or something to compare it with, for it to make real impact, if that makes any sense. Eg. to use the first example I can think of, in Oliver Twist there's a long section in the middle where Oliver seems to have found happiness – he's living with an perfect, loving family in the countryside, etc, and this just makes his inevitable kidnap and later tragic events even more horrible.
That said, I'm still very much enjoying the experience of reading, and I'm sure as we get to know the characters better I'll end up loving the book to bits, as I seem to do with every single book I start off being indifferent to.
You and Erin summed up my thoughts on the content; it feels like I'm watching a text version of the History Channel. There are, however, five hundred pages of possible character development remaining, so I'm not too worried yet. 😉
Mark, you're as interesting as the books you read. I want to know more about you.
lol, my daughter just asked me what the date was and I replied "The Ides of March."
Wow, this book is interesting so far. I want to know more about her foster family now… and of course what Liesel does with the book.
The most chilling part of this for me was this other man who was in the car. Who is he?
TERRIFYING. Since I don't know who this guy is, I'm not sure what's going on, but thematically it seems to correspond with the earlier interjection:
Then you get the Final Solution.
I'm glad you like this. Really glad.
Wait…is Liesel supposed to be Jewish? I assumed she was, because it feels very weird and uncomfortable to be to be telling a story about Oh Those Poor Poverty-Stricken Nazi-era Aryan Germans…I don’t know, I’m not expressing this very well, but it makes me feel uncomfortable. I thought she was until the funeral bit with the priest, and how she is relocated, not outside the country, but to a German town to live with a German family.
This was exactly what I feared would happen when Mark announced he would read this book next. I'm German and as a result of that I've grown up with learning also what happened in Germany during the war.
I've grown up with grandparents who lived in Germany during the war and who I love deeply, even though I know they didn't fight against the Nazis in any way and in case of my father's dad, who died when I was two, I'm pretty sure he was a Nazi. On the other hand I'm feeling incredibly guilty for what my country did and the concentration camps I visited where the most horrible places I've ever been to and I can't even begin to understand how anyone could be so blind as to follow Hitler. I'm very conflicted on this issue as is our entire country to this day, even though we made great progress dealing with our past since the 1968s.
Does this mean I blame my grandmother, who turned twelve the day WW2 started and who had to flee from her home twice during the war? My other grandmother watched her mother get shot and was shot herself, holding my one-year old uncle in her arms. My great aunt had to leave her two children in Poland while crossing the border because they were to sick to make it.
I don't want to bore you with these stories and I certainly know that their suffering does not in any way come close to what the jews had to suffer on the hands of Germany. But I think it is important to see that wars made by men lead to suffering for everyone, especially the women and children and are never a thing of glory.
This is just my family's story, but maybe you are also interested to know that there where Germans in Germany that fought the Nazis. One of the best children's book I read when I was eleven about the time was about a communist family chronicling the time between the end of WW1 to the end of WW2. You might also be interested in the story of the Scholl-siblings, who where students in Munich and "Nazi-era Aryan Germans" and were eventually killed by the Nazis for making anti-war propaganda. Just to show you that not all stories taking part in Germany have to be from an "evil" perspective.
I have difficulties expressing myself properly in English, so I hope I brought my point across in a way that can't be misinterpreted.
I understand how you feel, Rivka. As an Orthodox Jew with family members who lived through or died in the concentration camps, I was slightly dubious when I first heard about the book. But it quickly became one of my favorites of all time–if not my absolute favorite. Let me reassure you in as nonspoilery a way as possible that Zusak's telling a story about a gentile girl does not in any way brush aside or minimize the horror of what was done to the Jews. But he's chosen to tell a different story–bits of which are lifted straight from what his German mother observed growing up in a town not far from a concentration camp.
Thank you for your reassurance! 🙂 I'm happy to stick with it, I just feel weird and uncomfortable about it so far.
Continued from my last comment (because it couldn't all fit in one):
The way I see it is like this: when things are going badly for me, I HATE when someone says something like, "There are people out there who have it so much worse." Yes, I know that. But just because someone else has it worse, doesn't mean that I don't have it BAD, you know? So just because we Jews had it WORSE than even the poorest Germans, it doesn't mean that some of the Germans didn't have it bad.
Please keep plugging away with this book. If you let yourself, I think you'll really love it!
Conflicted history is exactly that, conflicted. It's hard and it's complicated but we need to understand it all. There is black, white and all the conceivable shades of grey in between. WW2 has so many stories and this is one of them. It's no more or less relevant than any other story because of the perspective it's told from. In fact it's important that we hear stories from as many different perspectives as possible. Please trust us and stick with the book, it is well worth it.
Not all Germans were Nazis. I get how you feel but being German and non-Jewish during this era doesn't automatically make them horrible people or even collaborators; they lived under a very oppressive government and yes, for the most part they were poverty-stricken.
Personally, I commend Markus Zusak for writing from this perspective, because this is the first Holocaust fiction book I've read that has taken this approach. It seems like a lot of these writers are afraid to write sympathetic non-Jewish characters from this time period, precisely because of reactions like yours.
I absolutely LOVE this book so far.
Hey, Mark: I remember you deleting a couple of comments when people spoiled parts of Mockingjay for you. Just out of curiousity, since we've all finished Mockingjay, what parts were spoiled?
One of my favorite parts of this book is the inclusion of German, which is used (in my memory of the book, it's been a few years) accurately and properly. I first read this book (in English) when I was living in Karlsruhe for ten months in high school, having taken it out from the American library there, which was bizarre. The use of just simple words like Bahnhof just are a lovely addition to this incredibly layered story.
The Jews in Germany were German too, Mr. Cow.
I, too, love the book because it's about a non-Jewish girl. Like I said in my earlier comment, I never heard stories about the holocaust that didn't have to do with Jews, so this was a very nice change for me.
The Jews in Germany were German too, Mr. Cow.
Tomato, the Torah. My point is all stories about the Holocaust don't have to be about little Jewish girls. We've read the diary and numbered the stars already, so it's time to meet the book thief.
Heh, I know. I was just picking on you. Mainly for picking-on-you's sake, but also because it actually is an interesting little identity crisis that many German secular Jews had to deal with: their names and identities were German, and then suddenly Germany–and, eventually, the rest of the world–stopped viewing them as German. But I digress. Main point: I totally agree with you about the value in books examining a diverse range of perspectives.
Alright, things I am loving:
There have been about seven or eight sentences so far that are so beautiful, so perfectly constructed, that I would quite happily have them tattooed on me. That's right.
Those little asides, notes on the language, character descriptions – I like them. It adds to this feeling that you're reading a story about someone telling a story (perhaps a story originally told by someone else) when you have these layers of narrative.
That incredible, creeping sense of dignity in despair.
Love.
BUT. My god, this pet peeve of mine. Why on earth, in English language books that feature foreign language speakers, do the authors insist on making people repeat themselves? If someone says 'are you stupid?', you can either have them say it in English, as a narrative translation, or have them say it in German and then just hope that the reader understands it.
You do not make them say: 'Spinnst du? Are you stupid?'
Because then they just said: 'Are you stupid? Are you stupid?'
Zusak has done this several times and it bugs me. It's even more irritating because he has already established this fabulous device for explaining these very phrases that add colour. For example, he explained the swearwords so that they could be peppered into the dialogue in the German. There is no need for him to make characters say things once in each language!
This.
I seem to remember some of the books I read when I was younger (The Prydain Chronicles, I think? and a few others) having untranslated Welsh and Cornish in the text, sometimes with a glossary of the terms at the end and sometimes not, and it never really bothered me. It's strange that something similar wasn't done in this book, since obviously this book is for an older audience that wouldn't be as deterred by having to use glossaries, and German is so common a language that there wouldn't be much of a problem getting a translation even without a glossary included. I'm guessing it had to do with the sheer length of this book, as well as publisher pressure to have in-text translations for younger readers, but I wish it were at least better incorporated into the narrative.
The same "Foreign language sentence. English translation sentence" pattern was sometimes used in Susan Cooper's The Grey King (along, IIRC, with bits of untranslated Welsh with context clues) but it made complete sense because it was Welsh characters talking to each other and then having to explain themselves to someone who only speaks English. In The Book Thief, though, there's really no in-text reason for the characters to speak that way.
'It's strange that something similar wasn't done in this book, since obviously this book is for an older audience that wouldn't be as deterred by having to use glossaries'
I've never been able to understand *why*, but certainly at first, this was marketed and classified by the publisher as YA fiction. So I'd presume there *was* publisher pressure for the in-text translations.
I agree completely. It's totally a pet peeve of mine.
I actually read the repetition as just a characterization of Rosa (I think she's the only one who repeats stuff, so far anyway). I see her as the kind of person who says everything twice because you didn't respond fast enough the first time, or just to drive the insult home. And why not include it in two different languages?
Yeah there are a couple of instances where it could just be characterisation: if they're saying it twice anyway then it makes more sense.
But more than one person has done it, the 'spinnst du' example in my post was one of the guards near the beginning. It makes me think it's more of a style thing than a character thing.
It's funny but this style of writing can go either way for me. Sometimes I feel writers use it as a gimmick in order to set their books apart when there really is no reason to write said book the way they wrote it and I especially think authors that don't have great writing skills to begin with shouldn't use it. Thankfully, Zusak writes this really well so I quite like the writing style of Book Thief. I can't wait for you to get to know Hans and Rose. Hans is my favorite character in this.
You expressed yourself perfectly. Thank you for sharing your stories and your perspective.
Read Soul Music by Terry Pratchett. *thumbs up*
I'm really enjoying this book. I hadn't heard anything about this book beforehand, so I've come into it knowing nothing and have been blown away.
The line that you quoted as possibly one people wouldn't like "If you can’t imagine it, think clumsy silence. Think bits and pieces of floating despair. And drowning in a train." was actually one that really stuck out at me when I first read it. It was something I could picture, because I've been there. The silence so think you can feel it, only punctured now and then by a sob. That kind of vivid imagery really adds something to the story.
And, as a German minor in college, I love the inclusion of the German language. Obviously it has to be used sparingly so that non-German speakers will understand, but I do think it adds just a bit more oompf to the book. Plus I rarely get a chance to practice my German these days so anything helps!
I'm loving this book so far. I've never read it before, and I have started reading it without knowing anything about it at all. I really like the prose, it flows so organically, it's almost like Zusak's words are ghosting into my brain, bypassing my eyes. I get the feeling that he chose each individual word very carefully, and it makes his sentences all that much more meaningful. Many of the quotes people have selected are ones that stood out to me too, especially when he mentions bits and pieces of floating despair. He uses just a few words at a time to create a beautiful, albeit sad, picture.
I'm trying not to theorize where this will go next, because I want to let Death tell me the story in 'his' own way, and I don't want to over-think this too much.
'the passengers slid out as if from a torn package'
You know, I get it. I really do get how people could dislike his style of writing. But his imagery? Just SLAMS me in the chest. I love love love this while at the same time fully recognising how everyhting about how he writes could drive other people batty.
I should clarify that I don't mean that I think all Hitler-era Germans were Nazis, or collaborators. And I second the comment that German Jews were also Germans with German names!
I'm having a hard time putting my finger on what feels uncomfortable to me about this story, but it's still squicking me. Maybe it's the omniscient narrator Death, and how the writer has decided it cared more about this girl than any of the genocide victims (some of whom also weren't Jewish). I think it's the erasure that bothers me.
I am incredibly uncomfortable with the idea of "oh we've read all the Holocaust stories about Jews already, thank goodness we've finished all that and don't have to deal with those stories any more. Now at least we can get to stories about Christian white people!"
I was of the impression that she was called the book thief because she stole multiple books, the first one being the gravedigger's handbook, because it was there? (although is it really STEALING? FINDERS KEEPERS.) Which is interesting because at this point, the book says that Liesel can't quite read yet (hence not knowing what town her brother was buried in)… I don't know. Maybe it was comforting for her to keep this found book from the site of where her brother was buried?
This chapter is full of sad, and yet… it's so beautifully written. I am actually quite enjoying the style of this book, even though it only wants to dispense information in little bits at a time. I'm probably just used to much more straightforward books, which makes this interesting.
Also, I feel bad for Death. He(She?It?) seems lonely. 🙁
Markus Zusak's has a knack for lines that catch you off guard. You'll see. 😀
I find myself not knowing what or how to comment on this book. Mostly because I am highly confused and intrigued at the same time. ALSO…. this is one sad book and it's only been like… 30 pages?! And the whole book itself is 552 pages?
Oh God, I wonder what kind of journey I'm in for this time.