In the thirty-seventh and thirty-eighth chapters of The Book Thief, WHAT THE HELL THIS IS SO WEIRD AND UNCOMFORTABLE. Intrigued? Then it’s time for Mark to read The Book Thief.
PART FIVE
the whistler
CH. 37: THE FLOATING BOOK (Part I)
HOLY WHAT. WHAT.
How do I even talk about this? How is this even real.
A book floated down the Amper River.
A boy jumped in, caught up to it, and held it in his right hand. He grinned.
He stood waist-deep in the icy, Decemberish water.
“How about a kiss, Saumensch?†he said.
Clearly Rudy and clearly the next book Liesel is going to get, right? I don’t think this counts as a stolen one, though.
* * * A SMALL ANNOUNCEMENT * * *
ABOUT RUDY STEINER
He didn’t deserve to die the way he did.
DEATH, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? First of all: WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?! Second of all: WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS NOW AND LIKE THIS. Oh god, RUDY. :: heart shatters ::
In your visions, you see the sloppy edges of paper still stuck to his fingers. You see a shivering blond fringe. Preemptively, you conclude, as I would, that Rudy died that very same day, of hypothermia. He did not. Recollections like those merely remind me that he was not deserving of the fate that met him a little under two years later.
Ok, I am seriously confused. So whatever happens to kill Rudy isn’t even for another two years? Which would make it…1942, yes? THIS IS SO DISORIENTING. Why does Death insist on doing this?
On many counts, taking a boy like Rudy 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.
So Rudy dies in a bomb blast, I presume. Even when describing ugly moments, Zusak is quick to use kind of beautiful imagery. It’s almost distracting because I like it so much, but he’s describing Rudy’s death, so I feel conflicting emotions.
What the hell is going on.
CH. 38: THE GAMBLERS (A SEVEN-SIDED DIE)
Of course, I’m being rude. I’m spoiling the ending, not only of the entire book, but of this particular piece of it. I have given you two events in advance, because I don’t have much interest in building mystery. Mystery bores me. It chores me. I know what happens and so do you. It’s the machinations that wheel us there that aggravate, perplex, interest, and astound me.
There are many things to think of.
There is much story.
WELL THIS IS QUITE A WAY TO INTRODUCE THIS STORY, ISN’T IT? So Rudy Steiner dies in a bomb blast and Liesel is at his side either during or after his death. Jesus christ THIS BOOK.
And you know, as awful of a thought as that is, the entire set up and delivery of what happens in chapter thirty-eight is somehow so much worse than Rudy Steiner dying. I mean…if you’ve read it, you know. UGH. Shall we?
The Haircut: Mid-April 1941
Death/Zusak frames the entire story told here (which is incredibly long) as one long, extended metaphor: When the Hubermanns agreed to take in Max Vandenburg, they were gambling. I mean, that is a statement of fact, but, using a “seven-sided die†to represent the metaphor, Death relates the story to us through seven sections, each a different side of the die. They’re all pieces of a complex puzzle that come together to not only end with Rudy Steiner’s death, but to fulfill my not-so-talented-but-true prediction that everything here was bound to fall apart.
The first side of the die, number one, is not actually awful at all, but yet another huge moment in the relationship between Liesel and Max, who continue to grow closer. As the Hubermann household slips back to some more familiar routines of arguing and living, Max requests that someone give him a haircut. “It’s getting me in the eyes,†he explains. Hans and Rosa slip back in to their arguing, and when Max himself appears in the kitchen, Liesel becomes the center of the story:
“I’ll probably make a lot of mistakes on him anyway.â€
“Mistakes?†Papa looked ready to tear his own hair out by that stage, but his voice became a barely audible whisper. “Who the hell’s going to see him?†He motioned to speak again but was distracted by the feathery appearance of Max Vandenburg, who stood politely, embarrassed, in the doorway. He carried his own scissors and came forward, handing them not to Hans or Rose but to the twelve-year-old girl. She was the calmest option. His mouth quivered a moment before he said, “Would you?â€
I think that, in a way, Zusak puts this here as a way to contrast Liesel’s behavior later in the story, but I don’t want to ignore what it means specifically in this moment: Max trusts Liesel in a way that no one else will come close to. He knows she’s the least talented, but they have such a deep understanding of each other that Max feels that is more important to him.
The haircutting scene is wonderfully affectionate as well. I love that Max tells Liesel, “As many mistakes as you want,†further supporting this idea of his innate trustin her.
Again, Max was in the doorway, this time at the top of the basement steps. “Thanks, Liesel.†His voice was tall and husky, with the sound in it of a hidden smile.
I don’t think I’ve ever heard/read the phrase “hidden smile†before, but it’s fantastic how I know exactly what Zusak means when he writes it. Goddamn, I love this book.
The Newspaper: Early May
Time is moving much quicker in this section than any of the others so far, and I get the feeling it’s not just because we need to eventually reach Rudy Steiner in 1942. I don’t think we’ll visit these years again after this, so Zusak fills in as much of the necessary story as possible.
This second story starts to build the tension and the dread because of the inevitable entropy that is to come. As Zusak further expands the relationship of Liesel with both Max and Frau Hermann, the sense that this will all end in disarray is getting stronger. We learn here that during some of her visits with Rosa’s last remaining customer, the mayor and his wife, Liesel starts to have inklings of a desire to share with Frau Hermann that Max is hiding in her basement. I don’t know if Liesel eventually will do something so catastrophic quite yet, as I don’t get the idea that she could actually do it, but when I first read this section, I thought she was indeed doing it, until I got to the word “imagined.†Thankfully, she excuses herself immediately after the first time she has this sensation.
Frau Hermann has also started a new routine: offering Liesel the book she is reading so she can take it home. And Liesel always declines, saying she has enough books at home. I wonder if she does this because she knows it is not necessary to take the book. You know, she can continue to visit Frau Hermann if she never takes any books from her, right?
Anyway, just a side thought. On her way home from the mayor’s mansion, Liesel rummages in the various garbage cans along her route to see if anyone has discarded a Molching Express. Continuing to do unbearably sweet things for Max, she brings him home the crossword from each day, both of them quietly celebrating when Liesel finds an empty puzzle for Max. Their routine becomes the same: Max does the crossword while Liesel reads, and these silent moments are SO GODDAMN BEAUTIFUL TO ME.
Liesel would usually sit on some drop sheets. She would read while Max completed those crossword. They sat a few meters apart, speaking very rarely, and there was really only the noise of turning pages. Often, she also left her books for Max to read while she was at school. Where Hans Hubermann and Erik Vandenburg were ultimately united by music, Max and Liesel were held together by the quiet gathering of words.
“Hi, Max.â€
“Hi, Liesel.â€
They would sit and read.
A bit of a side journey about silence, which will help explain why I love this so much. I’m a talkative guy, I’d like to think. This didn’t really develop until I was in high school, most especially not until I ran away from home when I was sixteen. My mom was a loud person, and I learned that in the moments when I wasn’t being silent and obedient, I would need to be louder if I wanted to be heard. But, by and large, I wsn’t heard and my household dynamic was designed so I wouldn’t be heard. As I found my voice (literally and figuratively) in high school, I found that I really really enjoyed talking. After having been quiet, serene, and passive for so long, there was an inherent power in being able to say what I wanted and when I wanted to say it.
Over the years, I gravitated towards areas in college and in work where I would have to use my voice. Choosing to double major in political science and religious studies was quite the exercise in speaking out during discussions in class. I worked in retail and manual labor from sixteen until I was twenty-two, which is when I made the transfer over to community management in 2005. And while being a community manager generally doesn’t involve speaking outloud in person, since all the people I interact with are on the Internet, you have to be outspoken to the company you work for to constantly communicate the needs and issues that a community has.
All in all, these days I talk a lot. I would consider myself well-spoken and I’ve lost a lot of the degree of social anxiety I used to suffer from that prevented me from being candid and open with strangers. (I still have some fairly extreme social anxieties, but that is for another time!) After having gone on a relative binge of talking for so many years, I now seek out silence.
Last year, I came up to San Francisco for WonderCon for the first time. At the time, I was living in Los Angeles and I still hadn’t gotten the motivation or the means to actually move here to the Bay Area, but when I think back to that weekend, I know that subconsciously, that was a huge reason I moved here. From the moment I got off the plane that Friday until I got back to SFO on Monday evening, I can pretty much count the number of sentences I spoke. Eight to my friend’s coworker, who had her apartment keys that I was borrowing while she was out of town. (FUN FACT: I now live in her apartment! IT WAS DESTINY.) About ten to the server at Souley Vegan. Not a single word on Saturday. NOT ONE WORD. I was absolutely silent the entire day. I had to speak very briefly on Sunday at a restaurant and when some asshole WOULDN’T SHUT UP during a panel that day, but then…silence for the rest of the day. And then, on Monday, only three sentences when I dropped off the keys again before heading to the airport.
And I loved it. I loved being in a city so large, so huge, so dense, and not having to interact with anyone. I know that might seem really strange; why would you move to a major metropolitan area if you don’t want to talk? I do enough of it as it is, and I love that this place is so large that I don’t have to anymore. These days, I sit in coffee shops around the Bay, both in the East Bay and the City, huddled at my laptop or typing on my iPad, and I don’t say a word, and I enjoy my own silence.
I think that in the Hubermann household, given both Max’s and Liesel’s pasts, they, too, appreciate the calm silence of each other’s company. Sometimes, that can be a beautifully intimate moment.
The Weatherman: Mid-May
If The Standover Man was a sign of how much Max cared for Liesel, then this third section is a sign of how in sync the two of them are, both in terms of their friendship and their poetic creativity. After having scored a goal that day against Rudy’s team, Liesel rushes to tell her parents, then bounds downstairs to share the joyous moment with Max. Max, in turn, has a request for her:
“You told me all about the goal,†he said, “but I don’t know what sort of day it is up there. I don’t know if you scored it in the sun, or if the clouds have covered everything.†His hand prodded at his short-cropped hair, and his swampy eyes pleaded for the simplest of simple things. “Could you go up and tell me how the weather looks?â€
It’s a simple thing that we all take for granted. And really, this is the situation that Max has been forced into: the very basic idea of what the weather is like is a luxury to him.
“The sky is blue today, Max, and there is a big long cloud, and it’s stretched out, like a rope. At the end of it, the sun is like a yellow hole….â€
Max, at that moment, knew that only a child could have given him a weather report like that. On the wall, he painted a long, tightly knotted rope with a dripping yellow sun at the end of it, as if you could dive right into it. On the ropy cloud, he drew two figures—a thin girl and a withering Jew—and they were walking, arms balanced, toward that dripping sun. Beneath the picture, he wrote the following sentence.
Oh man, ready for one of those punch-in-the-face sentences?
* * * THE WALL-WRITTEN WORDS * * *
OF MAX VANDENBURG
It was a Monday, and they walked
on a tightrope to the sun.
I may not have figured out why this book is written the way it is, and I certainly don’t know if I’ll enjoy the second half of The Book Thief as much as the first, but good lord, I am so impressed with Zusak’s style.
The Boxer: End of May
And now we are to part four, which is perhaps the most disturbing and flat-out confusing part of The Book Thief yet. While I certainly studied a great deal of World War II in high school and college, going so far as to take a class devoted specifically to political ideologies at work in the second World War, I have never felt quite informed enough as I should be. I’m always reading new perspectives or having pre-conceived notions about how that war came about and was fought destroyed all the time. I personally find it to be one of the most fascinating (and terrifying, admittedly) moments in all of human history.
I know some of you have to be history buffs, so I’d like a little perspective specifically about how Nazi Germany and Hitler is portrayed in this book, most specifically this chapter. I don’t want to summarize all of it, but, briefly, Max’s own point of view is given almost entirely in part four. We learn more about the agonizing sensation of how time passes for him, and how his nightmares begin to evolve into this sort of waking dream about him boxing. Oh, right. Boxing Hitler. It is honestly very strange to me to read this section because I know that so much of popular culture sticks the face of Hitler on Nazi Germany and is done with it at the end of the day. He was Nazism to most people, and I know from my studies that this is horrifically simplistic.
I know that Zusak, born in Australian, drew the inspiration for a great deal of this book from the tales of his German mother, who lived these experiences. And I think that’s amazingly powerful. I said long ago, in an earlier review, how unsettling this book could be because I know this was not merely invented. We’re dealing with actual history here. So, my question to you all: What is up with this story??? Did most Jews in Nazi Germany look to Hitler as the be-all, end-all roadblock in their lives? I mean, he was certainly the face of a great deal of the propaganda produced and distributed by the Ministry of Public Enlightenment.
I guess I am concerned that because of my own perspective and lack of personal history regarding this, I don’t want to skip over this story, which might be problematic, and not say anything and just pretend that HEY ALL, EVERYTHING IS FINE. I will say, however, that Hitler’s speech after getting knocked down by Max in this dream is kind of frightening in its realism, especially in terms of how anti-Semitic propaganda was spread by Hitler’s regime:
“Can you see that this enemy has found its ways—it’s despicable ways—through our armor, and that clearly, I cannot stand up here alone and fight him?†The words were visible. They dropped from his moth like jewels. “Look at him! Take a good look.†They looked. At the bloodied Max Vandenburg. “As we speak, he is plotting his way into your neighborhood. He’s moving in next door. He’s infesting you with his family and he’s about to take you over. He—“ Hitler glanced at him a moment, with disgust. “He will soon own you, until it is he who stands not at the counter of your grocery shop, but sits in the back, smoking his pipe. Before you know it, you’ll be working for him at minimum wage while he can hardly walk from the weight in his pockets. Will you simply stand there and let him do this? Will you stand by as your leaders did in the past, when they gave your land to everyone else, when they sold your country for the price of a few signatures? Will you stand out there, powerless? Orâ€â€”and now he stepped one rung higher—“will you climb up into this ring with me?â€
Othering. Presenting the “enemy†as an invading force. Presenting them as a thief. Presenting the “failures†of past leaders. Presenting the threat of poverty. So much of it is here, and it’s such a difficult thing to read.
The New Dream: A Few Nights Later
It’s not long before Max, always trusting Liesel, decides to share this new “waking†dream that he has with his friend. And even though it’s just a dream, he tells her that this is why he does push ups and sit ups. He’s preparing:
Liesel was standing now. “Who wins?â€
At first, he was going to answer that no one did, but then he noticed the paint cans,t he drop sheets, and the growing pile of newspapers in the periphery of his vision. He watched the words, the long cloud, and the figures on the wall.
“I do,†he said.
It was as though he’d opened her palm, given her the words, and closed it up again.
I read this segement as one of hope, that by looking around his physical environment and seeing the signs of the beautiful relationship between himself and Liesel, he has hope that maybe he is actually going to win.
The Painters: Early June
And it certainly gives me hope, even briefly, that Max is in the hands of the right people when I read the sixth section of chapter thirty-eight. Max begins to tear out every page of Mein Kampf, painting each of them white and hanging them to dry. There’s even a bit of humor to the first time Liesel finds her entire family helping out:
When Liesel came down one day after school, she found Max, Rosa, and her papa all painting the various pages. Many of them were already hanging from a drawn-out string with pegs, just as they must have done for The Standover Man.
All three people looked up and spoke.
“Hi, Liesel.â€
“Here’s a brush, Liesel.â€
“About time, Saumensch. Where have you been so long?â€
HA I LOVE IT, especially since we can easily tell who said what.
That afternoon, in the secret ground below 33 Himmel Street, the Hubermanns, Liesel Meminger, and Max Vandenburg prepared the pages of The Word Shaker.
It felt good to be a painter.
So, now the question is: Is that Max’s book or Liesel’s? INTRIGUED, I MUST SAY.
The Showdown: June 24
All good things must come to an end, right? That’s how the saying goes. And this seventh section, or, as Death describes it, the seventh side of the die, occurs on two days after Germany invades Russia, three days before “Britain and the Soviets joined forces.â€
Seven.
You roll it and watch it coming, realizing that this is no regular die. You claim it to be bad luck, but you’ve known all along that it had to come. You brought it into the room. The table could smell it on your breath. The Jew was sticking out of your pocket from the outset. He’s smeared to your lapel, and the moment you roll, you know it’s a seven—the one thing that somehow finds a way to hurt you. It lands. It stares you in each eye, miraculous and loathsome, and you turn away with it feeding on your chest.
Just bad luck.
That’s what you say.
Of no consequence.
That’s what you make yourself believe—because deep down, you know that this small piece of changing fortune is a signal of things to come. You hide a Jew. You pay. Somehow or other, you must.
I don’t quite understand why this is framed as the number seven, or as an impossible side of a die. I’d like to hear what any of you feel about this, but what I do understand is that disaster is at our hands. Someone is going to find out about Max, and I don’t want to read about it. I have started to become attached to this makeshift family in 33 Himmel Street, and I don’t want them to leave.
Right off the bat, we’re told that “the showdown†has to do with Rosa being fired by her very last client, the mayor. A week before the event, when Liesel brings home the Molching Express to Max, he points out that the Mayor is on the front page. In the story, the mayor concedes that as the war continues to progress, the city needs to prepare for any necessary measures for the possibility of “harder times.†A week later, while Liesel is reading The Whistler in the library with Frau Hermann, the mayor’s wife insists that Liesel take it home with her. Finally, she agrees to it, and then prepares to ask for that week’s washing:
As she was about to ask for the washing, the mayor’s wife gave her a final look of bathrobed sorrow. She reached into the chest of drawers and withdrew an envelope. Her voice, lumpy from lack of use, coughed out the words. “I’m sorry. It’s for your mama.â€
Liesel feels instantly betrayed, always believing that someone like the mayor would never sever this solitary and singular connection for Liesel, her only access to a large swath of books, and her mother’s only access to money at all. As Frau Hermann awkwardly tries to push Liesel out of the house, her heartbreak begins to turn to indignant anger, something we’d not seen from her in a long, long time.
“If you ever want to come just to read,†the woman lied (or at least the girl, in her shocked, saddened state, perceived it as a lie), “you’re very welcome.â€
It’s hard to read the heartbreak happen before her eyes, as the act is entirely inconceivable to Liesel, who cannot believe that the mayor would do such a think.
As she sits outside the mayor’s mansion for a long time, just staring at the city below, she finally opens the letter Frau Hermann gave her, where the Mayor explains that it would look bad if he kept Rosa on to do his washing and ironing, since he just told the city to “prepare for harder times.â€
The sheer absurdity of such a statement, given that paying Rosa for her work would actually HELP a family during such harder times, overwhelms Liesel, as all of the negative emotions she is feeling begin to combine into a singular rage as she walks home. And that’s when she decides to turn around to confront the mayor’s wife, racing back to the mansion, knocking on the door furiously, and watching the mayor’s wife stare in confusion in shock as she tells her that of all things, giving her a book as a way to assuage her guilt is ridiculous.
“You and your husband. Sitting up here.†Now she became spiteful. More spiteful and evil than she thought herself capable.
The injury of words.
Yes, the brutality of words.
She summoned them from someplace she only now recognized and hurled them at Ilsa Hermann. “It’s about time,†she informed her, “that you do your own stinking washing anyway. It’s about time you faced the fact that your son is dead. He got killed! He got strangled and cut up more than twenty years ago! Or did he freeze to death? Either way, he’s dead! He’s dead and it’s pathetic that you sit here shivering in your own house to suffer for it. You think you’re the only one?â€
I don’t even know what to say about this, as it’s so brutally shocking to me to read Liesel saying these things. It’s so cruel and rude and frightening, all things I never thought I’d feel for Liesel. Above all, it just makes me sad.
Liesel throws the book at Frau Hermann’s feet, telling her she doesn’t want her “gift,†and Zusak describes the mayor’s wife’s reaction in a metaphor of violence, as if Liesel’s words actually physically assaulted her. Desiring any sort of adverse reaction from Frau Hermann, Liesel is left standing alone on the stoop as the woman merely retreats back into her house silently. The damage has already been done.
But Liesel’s fury doesn’t wane by the time she gets home, and there’s seemingly no guilt that accompanies it, either. When Rosa discovers that the mayor has fired her, she’s so dejected that she can’t even be angry at Liesel.
“It’s my fault,†Liesel answered. “Completely. I insulted the mayor’s wife and told her to stop crying over her dead son. I called her pathetic. That was when they fired you. Here.†She walked to the wooden spoons, grabbed a handful, and placed them in front of her. “Take your pick.â€
Rosa touched one and picked it up, but she did not wield it. “I don’t believe you.â€
It’s only now that I begin to understand Liesel’s reaction to Rosa’s firing. Liesel wants to be responsible and punished for it because only then will it make sense to her. Only then will it have a reason to it and only then can Liesel at least assign blame to someone. Rosa can see right through that, too, and I also think she’s partially offended that Liesel expects her to be that brutal and unfair, too. There’s no Watschen given, and as Liesel heads to her room, all she hears ar the spoons being returned to their jar, and then the jar crashing to the floor.
Guilt doesn’t seem to creep in until that night, when Hans sits with Liesel while they read. When he asks her if it’s the washing that bothers her so much, she gives a surprising answer:
“Papa,†she whispered, “I think I’m going to hell.â€
It’s kind of weird to read this, especially since God hasn’t really been mentioned at all in this story so far. But maybe this is the only term in which Liesel can express her guilt at what she did to the mayor’s wife. On a larger scale, though, it feels indicative of the storm to come, as patience is tested and the world around Liesel only becomes more absurd.
“You’re not going to hell,†Papa replied.
For a few moments, she watched his face. Then she lay back down, leaned on him, and together, they slept, very much in Munich, but somewhere on the seventh side of Germany’s die.
Well, everything’s about to get so much worse, isn’t it?
Chapter 37 and the preview of Rudy's death made me cry. I was in so disoriented by it's placement that I read it about three times to grasp what was going on and still cried each time.
I know several people have complained about Death's asides, but I especially liked the explanation provided in Chapter 38. Basically, it's not about the destination, it's about the ride, and I'm enjoying this ride.
The placement of Chapter 37 is interesting. It's almost like a reminder that Rudy exists (though apparently he won't for long). The story has been so consumed with Max for so long, that I was happy to see Rudy again. And I hope we get more of him soon.
* * * A SMALL ANNOUNCEMENT * * *
ABOUT RUDY STEINER
He didn’t deserve to die the way he did.
So after an author panel/signing, my friend and I were talking to Zusak, and my friend told him that she got to that line while reading on the train to work, and she gasped and felt like she'd been slapped. Zusak replied with a grin, "That's exactly what I was going for!" Heh. He's a really friendly, funny guy.
It’s only now that I begin to understand Liesel’s reaction to Rosa’s firing. Liesel wants to be responsible and punished for it because only then will it make sense to her. Only then will it have a reason to it and only then can Liesel at least assign blame to someone.
Interesting. I viewed this a little differently. I saw it as Liesel feeling guilty about what she'd said to the mayor's wife and trying desperately to punish herself.
That's the way I saw it, too. Also, Liesel knew losing her last customer was probably going to make Rosa really angry, and maybe she didn't want to hear Frau Hermann be further verbally abused.
I think it made her feel even more guilty when Rosa said, "I know you wouldn't say those things."
I got SO MAD at Death when he dropped that spoiler. I was like "Dammit, Death, you can't just tell me that and then NOT EXPLAIN." He just leaves you hanging. Although at least he reassures us it wasn't hypothermia, which was my immediate fear.
However, I do agree with the rest of Death's statement, about not being interested in mystery. I tend to not mind spoilers at all (and in some cases, actively seek them out) because for me it's not WHAT happens, but HOW. The example I use is a certain series that I was reading, but hadn't checked on in several months. A friend mentioned the spoiler on their journal (under a cut, I just read it anyway) and I was like "woah, that happened?" and I immediately went off to catch up. The spoiler event, when it happened, still felt like a punch to the face, even when I was expecting it. THAT is the mark of good writing, to me. A good story will make you desperately wish you could avoid the event even when you know it's coming, because it still hurts. But a poorly constructed story makes me (at least) want to read spoilers, because I don't care enough about the characters or events to see them play out.
Yes yes yes yes yes re spoilers! Hell's bells, even on a multiple re-reading of certain books I get a really visceral emotional reaction at key points in the plot. I still cry at the forest chapter in Harry Potter, every time.
Oh God Rudy oh God oh God oh God. The dread.
One of the reasons I'm looking forward to Mark reading the Golden Compass is there's a couple parts of that book that stun me, every time. I've read it a dozen times or more and one scene especially never fails to floor me. Okay, that's a lie, there are like four or five scenes that stay with me. That's good writing.
Also: RUDY NOOO D:
I think that's the mark of a good book. My favorite books are the ones I can read again and again. If a book is only readable once, I'm far less interested in it.
I also can't wait for His Dark Materials. I have lots of thoughts and feelings that I want to share.
This is one of the things that has impressed me about re-reading TBT, there are still moments that have punched me in the face or left me a blubbering wreck even though I knew they were coming.
I had the same interpretation as you regarding Liesel wanting the beating.
The line about Rudy's death is definitely a slap in the face.
You know, that is like…totally 100% valid, hahahaha.
I have such a literary crush on Zusak that I've forgiven him for the opening. But it still hurts reading over this again. D:
That's exactly how I read it, too. She wants to assuage her guilt by getting the beating she feels she deserves.
In answer to your question about Hitler, as far as my understanding goes, part of the basis of Nazism was the idea of 'Fuehrerprinzip' (leader principal) which puts the leader above everything with full responsibility and power. So Hitler was naturally presented as the be-all and end-all of all German's lives.
I don't know if anyone thinks differently?
Organizationally, Fuhrerprinzip leaves Hitler as the responsible party, but he didn't act in alone or in a vacuum. Personally, "I was only following orders" has never held any water with me, especially since the Final Solution has Heydrich, Himmler, and Goering's fingerprints all over it. Just because Nazis accepted Fuhrerprinzip doesn't mean that the public or their targets did. But thanks for bringing up an important aspect about how blame is deflected to Hitler.
The "I was only following orders" excuse is interesting. Have you read about the psychological study where they had people administer electric shocks to other people? The people being shocked were only acting. But the majority of the people doing the shocking pushed it right past the "fatal" mark when they were told to. People do a lot just because other people (people with authority) tell them to. We like to think we'd never do that, but not having been in the situation I honestly can't say I wouldn't just follow orders. It makes your own life a lot easier and it takes a tremendous amount of selflessness to step outside that.
Yeah, the Milgram experiment. I remember covering it in psych class and everyone being dumbfounded that 60-something percent of the test administrators administered the lethal shock. I think that number has been reproduced in further experimentation (there's sort of an obsession with Milgram, isn't there?). Anyway, I believe it was started right after Eichmann's trial began and he was claiming Fuhrerprinzip exonerated (or mitigated, whatever) him.
Was that part of the jailer/captive experiment? I know I've read something about a psychology experiment they did where they had jailers and "prisoners" and they ended up having to stop the experiment after only a short time because the "prisoners" were being pretty badly mistreated.
People do all kinds of things if they think they can get away with it, honestly, or even if they know it's wrong but the environment they're in condones it. Similarly, the fear of punishment can make it really hard to go against these acts.
No, although that one was interesting, too. The Milgram experiment (thanks for the name monkeybutter) was actually testing this obedience behavior. Subjects were told that they and another subject would be memorizing lists of words. One would be memorizing and the other would be administering shocks as punishments whenever the first person messed up. The person doing the memorizing was a confederate, and not actually being shocked. With each shock, the voltage was increased and the screams got louder. The dial was clearly marked with a point past which the voltage would be fatal to a person. Subjects were told to shock the victims with ever higher voltages, all the while listening to their screams. Over half of them did.
Yeah, you're thinking of the Stanford prison experiment, which is also relevant. The "guards" were given support to torture and degrade the "prisoners," so they behaved quite cruelly. A lot of the "prisoners" internalized their abuse and accepted it passively. Basically, with support from a higher authority, people feel free to act sadistically. If I remember correctly, it had completely gone to shit by the second day, culminating in a riot, and the experiment ended early. Both experiments brought up a lot of ethical concerns, and I believe they both played a part in ethical guidelines requiring informed consent and that human test subjects can't be harmed.
There's video excerpts of both experiments out there; I remember watching it in class.
My grandparents aren't among those who openly talked about and shared what they experienced. It was too hard for them. My grandfather died when I was 12, and I don't remember him speaking much at all. I found out years later that he'd been severely depressed for decades and had been receiving shock therapy. My grandmother–who's still alive–never spoke about much of a personal nature either. But every couple of years, something would prompt her to mention something. Like about how in the concentration camps, she and her sister ate potato skins they stole from the garbage, but that her sister was always the one to sneak away to steal them, because my grandmother was too scared. There was also talk of the marches in snow with no shoes. There wasn't much about the time leading up to the war and who, exactly, they viewed as the big villain in the picture. However, when talking about the camps, she definitely would say "Hitler" did such-and-such as often as she'd say "the Nazis." So it does seem like she did view him as the master orchestrator. But it's hard to know if that's how she viewed things at the time.
Thanks for sharing this.
I saw the seventh side of the die as the unexpected event that upsets the order of the Hubermann household. Every other roll of the die felt like a logical progression of them adapting to each other, Max and Liesel becoming closer, and how living in the basement has affected Max. Life and fate are illogical things, like a seventh side of a die.
As for the basement boxing, like you mentioned, Hitler is the face of Nazism, which oversimplifies things if you leave it there. It makes sense that the face of Nazism is who Max pictures in his basement fights, but I disagree that what Zusak has done was another instance of oversimplifying Nazi Germany. Goebbels is his cutman, feeding him lines. The referee plainly states that the rules are stacked against Max. And the crowd is the entire German public, ready to be called upon to attack him, coming over the ropes on demand from their leader. Boxing Hitler is a lot more complex than Max getting a chance at fighting Hitler.
As for historical context, I don't know. From every account that I've read — memoir, diary, or historical overview (yeah, yeah secondary sources) — Jews were well aware of Goebbels, Goering, Himmler, Eichmann, all of the party and military leaders, and how exactly these men threatened their existence. There's also bitterness about local politicians, an apathetic public or one of true-believers, or, for contrast, a disbelief that the public or local authorities would allow something truly horrible to happen. Some people had faith that the good in humanity would save them, some didn't. And postwar, there was definitely disgust and outrage about Nazis and collaborators outside of those leadership positions who walked free and were allowed to continue doing business. It's seen as a failure of society, not an individual, and that's why we're all responsible for making sure that something like the Holocaust never happens again. I don't think anyone blames Hitler alone, but there has to be some visceral satisfaction in imagining yourself punching him right in the moustache.
I agree very hard. I read Max fighting Hitler as an attempt at agency, at giving himself a bit of power in a powerless situation by reducing it to just a man, because he can fight a man – even if he loses in the end. But like you say, there's a whole infrastructure that makes it more than a fight between men, and even if Max starts to win on a personal level then Hitler's words and the power of rhetoric take over and the opponent is intangible and too big for him again.
DEATH, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? First of all: WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?! Second of all: WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS NOW AND LIKE THIS. Oh god, RUDY. :: heart shatters ::
I have been waiting for you to get to this SMALL ANNOUNCEMENT for the whole book. It's as if all of Death's asides were simply preparing you for this one, even though you were never prepared at all.
I know, I was dreading Mark's reaction. And I thought it occurred earlier in the book, so the announcement of Rudy's death was sort of hanging over my head. I like how Death addresses his spoiling though: the journey is more important than the (really, really sad) destination.
I'm sure it's extra true from Death's perspective. I mean, honestly we all know the end of our stories: we die. We just really hate to remember that. For Death, though, that's his task and he doesn't seem to think there's any benefit to ignoring that. And since we're all going to the same place, all that matters to him is what happens on the way.
Okay, who nominated Rudy for president? >:O
I think I did in an earlier review!
:'O
The curse strikes again! I can't believe it!
It's all your fault!!! tears forever…
Yes. Yes you did. I read that comment yesterday. I had already gotten past that part of the book.
I don't want Rudy to die. And I never thought he'd die so early. Now I'm thinking that he must be the red death from the prologue. Which means his isn't the next death, but is certainly coming soon.
When Death is basically like, "Yeah, I'm spoiling you. Deal with it." I laughed so hard, mostly because I can just imagine Mark not being ok with that at all (with the spoiler policy and all) But his sentiment that it's about the journey, not the destination, the story not the ending really rang true for me. We know exactly what's going to happen. This book is about seeing it happen.
I have to admit, I was surprised that Max was getting beaten in his boxing dream. It's presented as a fantasy (at least that's how I read it), and I very much expected it to go in a different direction, with him pounding on Hitler for all the pain and shame and unfairness he's been dealt. I found it to be an interesting commentary on his self-esteem that he gets beaten so completely in his own fantasy. When he tells Liesel that he wins, I like to think that he did start winning in the dream after that.
I also like Liesel's description of the weather. It makes me think that some of the language in this book isn't Death's voice so much as Liesel's. Some of the descriptions of people and places seem to come from her, via her diary. Maybe Death gravitated to Liesel because they view the world in a similar way.
The seventh sided die is interesting. Of course rolling a 7 is impossible with one die, but with 2 dice it's inevitable and the most common number to get. You can also view it as getting two opposite sides at once. Those always add up to seven. I was also thinking of it in terms of adding another dimension. The die exists in three dimensions. But the Huberman's have added an extra dimension to their life: a Jew hiding in the basement. It could add a fourth dimension to the die, forcing the seven to appear and be rolled. I don't know. I've spent entirely too much of my life thinking about numbers and dimensions and reality and all that. Maybe this made no sense. And it probably explains nothing. But there's certainly a lot wrapped up in the metaphor, just waiting to be untangled.
As for the silent moments with Liesel and Max, those scenes are so calming. I'm a fairly quiet person, which I get from my mother. We usually had music playing when I was growing up, but my house was always a fairly quiet place. It wasn't that we never talked, but we could spend hours sitting in the same room and reading different things. Or going about our business without constantly having to verbally communicate it. I can't even imagine a life without moments like the ones that Max and Liesel steal in the basement. I do think it speaks very much to their intimacy, that they don't need to fill silences, they can just let them be. It's one of the most important qualities I seek out in my friends: the ability to just be.
When Max tells Liesel that he wins, I took that as his realization that he was winning through the simple act of trying to survive. He feels like the whole country is telling him he deserves to die, but he still has the strength to endure.
I like to think of it the same way. Even though it's a fantasy, it's grounded in reality enough that he doesn't win in the dream. But for him, he's fighting again. He found a way to be fighting again, which is a huge win, even if it isn't an end to the atrocities and the current situation.
I completely agree. He's winning through the simple act of trying to survive – and through forging relationships that subvert the world view that Hitler et al espouse.
I hadn't thought of it that way. It still seems like it doesn't really count as winning. But I suppose Max has to take what he can get. It's all so tragic!
Exactly. He's still alive and fighting, so they haven't won.
I wouldn’t be too worried that Rudy will die soon. He is probably around for the rest of the book. Death spoiled the end, and this spoiler feels much like Rudy dies when Death meets Liesel for the third time and takes her diary. Death also spoiled the end of this Part V, but this can only be when Chapter 37 will really happen, and still several months to go (it has to be cold again).
One of the best things in the world is the silent company of my wife and daugther, while we all enjoy our books. Unfortunately it doesn’t happen too often these days (kids grow up) and we don’t always enjoy the same books. My wife is the only person I know who tried to read Harry Potter and gave up. (There are few others who didn’t even try.)
The newspapers Max read were full of “success stories”, making Hitler seem to be undefeatable. So let’s have some more historical context:
Fanfare: “Hungary joined the Axis!”
Fanfare: “Romania joined the Axis!”
Fanfare: “Bulgaria joined the Axis!”
Fanfare: “Yugaslavia joined the Axis!”
Fanfare: “Cyrenaika (eastern Libya) reconquered by the Deutsches Afrika Korps!”
Fanfare: “Yugaslavia conquered in another Blitzkrieg!” WTF? There had been a putsch against the nazi-friendly government.
Fanfare: “Greek mainland conquered in another Blitzkrieg!” Italy had attacked Greece for no apparent reason (really, I don’t get it), Britain came to the rescue (of course) and the oil fields of Ploesti/Romania were in range of british bombers. Something had to be done about this.
Fanfare: “Greek islands occupied by german troops!” (Except british occupied Kreta.)
Fanfare: “Kreta conquered in the greatest airborne operation of history!” (Casualties were so horrible that Germany never again tried an airborne operation that is worth to mention.)
But when the Soviet Union was invaded, not only Mayor Hermann felt that Germany might have biten more than could be swallowed.
Liesel will own Mein Kampf some day, but it will be a totally different book? Death, you’re teasing me. Will “Mein Kampf” and “The Word Shaker” count as one or two books? I’ll watch your fingers, Death. (Referring to Death spoiling that Liesel will own fourteen books.)
I don’t know anything about gambling with dices. (Shouldn’t there be two or more? Rolling two dices, seven will be the most probable result.) To me this seventh side of the dice felt like the zero at the roulette. Nobody can bet on this, the bank wins everything.
It's funny. My whole life I've known that the Nazi ideal was blonde-haired, blue-eyed and they thought everyone else should die. And my whole life I've known that Hitler has brown hair and brown eyes. But I never put those facts together until this very moment and saw his hypocrisy. I guess there's just so much else to focus on?
I get your point and I concur, but Hitler had blue eyes and dark hair. Sorry, I wrote a poem about Nazi Germany for English class a week ago with the same thought as you did, and got points taken off since I didn't "know [my] facts well enough." You'll thank me later, I'm sure. :$
Corrections are always welcome! 🙂
Oh my goodness this line.
He’d have been glad to witness her kissing his dusty, bomb-hit lips.
Especially considering this line in chapter 8.
As long as both she and Rudy Steiner lived, she would never kiss that miserable, filthy Saukerl, especially not this day.
cannot handle
<img src= "http://img822.imageshack.us/img822/4427/puppybrainfreeze2463127.jpg" />
I know when I first read that I was in shock, then denial, then sadness. But rereading it, while it still fills me with that horrible dread and sadness, I imagine Death as Deal With It gif and it makes me feel a little bit better.
Yeah, I'm Death/Zusak and I'm a spoiler. I don't like mysteries, I like the journeys. DEAL WITH IT!
<img src="http://i290.photobucket.com/albums/ll269/hellojackgoodbyeson/gif/Xander-Deal.gif" border="0" alt="Xander Deal Pictures, Images and Photos"/>
oh man, so perfect
Here's one, for a little overlap between Mark Sites
<img src="http://i666.photobucket.com/albums/vv24/moriahbard/miscellany/gifs/Elevendealwithit.gif" border="0" alt="Eleven deal with it">
HAHAHAHAHA THANK YOU FOR THIS.
For death I think he/she/it? doesn't see it as spoiling. How can it be? Mortals DIE. The end of our stories is our meeting Death. Death is just reminding us of a fact of nature.
I think Death thinks it;s being kind, in warning us before it happens, giving us time to prepaer. I don't think Death, as a character remembers that even though we all know we're going to die being reminded of it is a constant shock.
In terms of style I think it's wonderful. It makes everything from here on tainted with the knowledge, sort of heavy and full of dread. Rudy is going to die. Wonderful, clever, brave, loving Rudy.
***A SMALL ANNOUNCEMENT ***
ABOUT RUDY STEINER
He didn’t deserve to die the way he did
JFC DEATH SPOILER TAG THAT SHIT WTF
ALSO NO THANK YOU I THINK I’LL STOP READING NOW
Dear Death, I like you and everything but STOP IT WITH THE SPOILERS! Sincerely, irritated reader.
I cried.
"Why does Death insist on doing this?" LOL I do this, too. Not thinking of this book as being written/told by Mark Zusak, a real person who is not Liesel or Death. (It's just THAT good!)
Chapter 38 is my favorite chapter of The Book Thief so far, and I'm almost done with the book. I just love the whole seven-sided die metaphor. I think, with the seventh side of the die, Zusak just meant that normal dice always have six sides, and having a seventh was… strange? It makes sense in my head, but I think everything does. =/
And my favorite passage OF ALL TIME was the end of Chapter 38, how Liesel confides in her seemingly sleeping papa that she thinks she's going to hell.
"She kissed his cheek. 'You need a shave,' She said. 'You're not going to hell,' He replied."
:'( IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL AND CHILLING.
I seriously did a double-take at Chapter 37, sputtering, "WHAT CAN HE DO THAT!??" Seriously, Death? Seriously? (Though I have to admit, it made me more eager to read this book, and read it faster. 😉 )
Death is Death's connection to us. To him it is only interesting in that it gives him a reason to care about our stories, to know us. And I imagine, since it's his job, it has long lost its ability to shock him (after all he knows first hand there is no escaping, well, him) and so he doesn't think twice about announcing someone's upcoming death.
Especially if he feels it important to know Rudy is going to die soon so you can better appreciate and give more weight to what's happening in his "story" now. Not that Rudy wasn't already a favorite of mine but now I want to savor all the moments I'll have left with him in a way I probably wouldn't have if I didn't know how short that time is going to be…
Of course, I like how perverse Death is (ha), he calls it "A SMALL ANNOUNCEMENT" when he knows it is anything but small.
My heart broke into a million pieces when I found out Rudy was going to die. I love Rudy. 🙁 Death's "small announcements" both amuse and annoy me. On the one hand, I love how Death is just like, "Yeah, I spoiled the ending. WHAT NOW?" But on the other hand, I wish he wouldn't, because I feel like I'm not getting the full impact of a lot of scenes if Death already tells me they're coming.
The first time I read this book, I somehow didn't pick up on the hint about Rudy dying in a bomb blast, so after Death's announcement about Rudy dying, I was terrified during every scene Rudy was in because I kept thinking he was going to die right then.
Spoilers. I have read this book so many times and I still shed all the tears at all the points. The gift of this writer/story is that we have the knowledge, we can prepare ourselves, we can deal with Death. Then the act happens in real-time and YOU ARE NOT PREPARED AT ALL! You cannot read through the tears, you cannot hear through your heart breaking.
Both of my parents died after prolonged illnesses. We were prepared, paper work done, all the words said, just the wait for the inevitable. All the tears cried. NOT! Death was not mitigated, it was not gentle, it was not accepted. My Father-IN-Law died very sudden. I can tell you there was no difference in reaction to these deaths.
DEATH know this, that is why it is really death writing this, not some mortal.
A million thumbs up. Even if we have all the warning in the world, we're never fully prepared for the death of loved ones.
On a different topic: guys, Mark just tweeted that after Book Thief is His Dark Materials and then LOTR! (and that he's completely unspoiled for LOTR). So excite! This is going to be the least prepared of all unpreparedness ever.
Slightly less excited about His Dark Materials – I _loved_ the first book, but thought the second and third got too weird and random. (I hope saying this doesn't count as a spoiler? Won't say why I disliked them just in case). And the movie was just horrendous.
This is a beautiful comment
* * * A SMALL ANNOUNCEMENT * * *
ABOUT RUDY STEINER
He didn’t deserve to die the way he did.
And this was the point where I put down the Book Thief and didn't pick it up again fo ra month or so. As much as I loved this book back when I read it that first time, I just couldn't deal with that spoiler.
I don't remember if I was angry or just sad, but it took me ages to forgive Death for spoiling me like that