Mark Reads ‘The Book Thief’: Chapters 47-48

In the forty-seventh and forty-eighth, the household at 33 Himmel Street must come to terms with the fact that there is a man in their house who is dying. Intrigued? Then it’s time for Mark to read The Book Thief.

Watching someone die is a really weird thing.

(Trigger warning, just in case, for discussion of death.)

And I suppose that sentence is in itself pretty bizarre, because watching someone die is a whole slew of other things besides weird, like TERRIFYING or DEPRESSING or UNSETTLING or ANY OTHER BIG SCARY WORD LIKE THIS. But the very concept is strange, and having had to live through it twice, it’s still something I don’t think I’ll ever understand.

While I wasn’t as present as the second time I went through it, nor as frequent as the characters in 33 Himmel Street, my first real experience with death on a personal, prolonged level was my father. I’d had a friend die suddenly in high school, but he’d graduated and I’d lost touch, so it didn’t hit quite as hard. I had a friend die due to complications from AIDS my sophomore year of college, but he had gone away to the East Coast to die with his family close by, and he didn’t really tell any of us that was the point of his trip home. We all found out after the fact.

In the summer of 2006, my dad’s Alzheimer’s got worse and every time I came to visit him, he seemed to forget more and more of the life we’d shared together. On top of that, just a month before he died, he’d found out he had brain and lung cancer, and he told us that he wasn’t going to fight it. In a way, that was very much like my father. His culture, being half Japanese and half Hawaiian, taught him to be serene, pensive, and patient, and the fact that he decided that it was his time to go made sense, at least in the context to who he was.

But I didn’t understand it for myself, and I became possessed with this desire to fight for him. However, I knew it was a nonsensical gesture to try anything, so in those last days when I could escape LA to come visit him, I just spent time with him. He gave me a letter and told me not to read it until he passed, and I obeyed him. When he passed, I was in Los Angeles, at the old Buzznet offices near MacArthur Park, those shiny, spacious lofts, and I still remember the color of the sky and the way the light gleamed off the concrete floor when I found out.

It was hard to wrap my mind around most of those days, even now, after I’ve written extensively about the death of my father. It’s coming up on five years since he left, and some days I still think he’s sitting at home in his recliner, watching awful re-runs and drinking bitter cups of lukewarm coffee. But he’s not, and that’s what death does. It takes someone away from you and you don’t believe it, even though you have to.

The second time I watched someone die, thankfully, it didn’t actually end with their death, but it was somehow worse, because I was there the entire time, day after day for a month straight, watching someone slip into a coma, and then slip away from all signs of life, watch them fall into a state of being clinically dead, and having to see someone you care about be unable to speak or communicate in anyway, and that’s somehow worse than death, because with death, the physical form is gone. And here was someone I cared about who looked like they were still here, but they weren’t. And that was so much more painful to me.


Reading through chapter thirty-three was somewhat like reading a diary of sorts of my own life. My own ritual that I created for both my father and my friend involved something eerily similar: I brought things for them. Small things, things they’d remember, and in the case of my friend, things they might wake up for.

Liesel starts to bring things for Max, and she does it in a way to get him to wake up, thinking that maybe if he knows that she brought him a deflated soccer ball, or maybe a pinecone, or maybe a description of a cloudy day, he’ll wake up and say hello.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “it’s not much. But when you wake up, I’ll tell you all about it. I’ll tell you it was the grayest afternoon you can imagine, and this car without its lights on ran straight over the ball. Then the man got out and yelled at us. And then he asked for directions. The nerve of him…”

Wake up! She wanted to scream.

Or shake him.

She didn’t.

All Liesel could do was watch the ball and its trampled, flaking skin. It was the first gift of many.

If it’s the same for her as it was for me, it’s a routine. It’s an attempt to bring some sense of normalcy back to her life, maybe even make her feel like she can control things that otherwise are completely out of her control.

When she was alone, she would conduct those conversations.

“So what’s all this?” Max would say. “What’s all this junk?”

“Junk?” In her mind, she was sitting on the side of the bed. “This isn’t junk, Max. These are what made you wake up.”

Liesel constructs this narrative as a way to comfort herself, and it’s easy to admit that this is really heartbreaking to me. Despite that, though, there is some hope to be found in this chapter, as we watch Hans give Liesel the inspiration she needs to further develop her ability to be a writer. We know from very early on in The Book Thief that Liesel will eventually write her own book of sorts, and Hans has been encouraging her in small bits. When the two of them are walking home, Liesel points out a monster of a white cloud that’s moving into town, and Hans remarks that she should give Max that as a gift. She expresses confusion at the suggestion, until Hands tells her to, “Memorize it. Then write it down for him.”

“…It was like a great white beast,” she said at her next bedside vigil, “and it came from over the mountains.”

When the sentence was completed with several different adjustments and additions, Liesel felt like she’d done it. She imagined the vision of it passing from her hand to his, through the blankets, and she wrote it down on a scrap of paper, placing the stone on top of it.

Seriously, to all of you who told me to read this book next for Mark Reads, DO YOU LIVE INSIDE MY MIND. I suppose it’s terribly obvious that I would absolutely love this, being a reader and a writer myself, but it’s almost as if this story is, in many ways, uniquely catered to my brain. I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH.

But despite finding this new thing for her, this new gift to give, her concern for Max becomes more severe as his condition never seems to improve:

She did not have dinner that afternoon or go to the toilet. She didn’t drink. All day at school, she had promised herself that she would finish reading the book today, and Max Vandenburg was going to listen. He was going to wake up.

And so Liesel puts herself on a mission, maybe to distract herself from the reality of Max’s condition, maybe for a sense of personal challenge, and maybe just a combination of any number of things.  But she becomes determined to finish off The Whistler in a final journey. The book itself seems pretty morbid, considering we know it’s about a murder and the last few paragraphs are all about how the killer gets away with his crime, but the content of the book seems to matter less to Liesel, because she finished the entire book, here at Max’s side. But when she looks up, he’s still just as silent as ever.

As Hans bids her goodbye, leaving to go play his accordion, and Rosa calls after her to come eat dinner, Rose stands along side Max, expecting her valiant act to wake him up:

As she hovered above him, she couldn’t help herself. “Come on, Max,” she whispered, and even the sound of Mama’s arrival at her back did not stop her from silently crying. It didn’t stop her from pulling a lump of salt water from her eye and feeding it onto Max Vandenburg’s face.

Mama took her.

Her arms swallowed her.

“I know,” she said.

She knew.

Then I began to freak out, thinking that Max had just passed away, so, like you probably did too, I quickly had to read on.


And that chapter title DID NOT HELP THINGS AT ALL. A Jewish corpse? Oh god, MAX IS GOING TO DIE, ISN’T HE?

Zusak isn’t quite prepared to give us the answer to that (YOU ASSHOLE), as we take a detour from Max’s condition to Rudy Steiner and Liesel Meminger, who both want to return to the mayor’s house to steal. This time, Rudy wants to make sure that he is in on the action, that Liesel doesn’t just leave him behind so she can steal a book without telling him.

Their approach to this round of thieving is different as well, as Rudy suggests the two of them take bicycles up to the mayor’s house so that they have a better escape plan just in case. Well….I also enjoyed Liesel’s jab at Rudy regarding the bikes:

“We’ll just ride around the block a few times,” Rudy said. “Lucky we brought the bikes, huh?”

“Just make sure you remember to take yours home.”

“Very funny, Saumensch. It’s a bit bigger than your filthy shoes.”

I enjoy how comfortable these two are with each other, and I refuse to think about how this is all going to end soon. Well, of course, now I am thinking about it, but whatever. MUST ENJOY WHAT IS HERE WHILE IT LASTS.

Rudy gets impatient after a long bout of waiting, as it feels too risky for them to enter the house when someone is clearly on the bottom floor. When he rides off, asking if Liesel is coming along, she stays. Of the two of them, I would definitely have pegged Liesel as the more patient one. Of course, then she immediately drops her bike in the gutter, walks up to the library window, removes her shoes, and hops right inside of the house. LIKE THAT. LIKE A TRUE BAMF.

Given that she’s done this before, I, like Liesel, feel a lot more comfortable about her being there, which is probably bad because you shouldn’t feel comfortable about breaking into someone’s house. But something about this theft seemed so…easy? I mean, Zusak describes the theft and escape in just one sentence:

She slid the book [The Dream Carrier] from the shelf, tucked it under her arm, climbed to the window ledge, and jumped out, all in one motion.

Seriously, you are a BOSS, Liesel Meminger. I also love that this book has essentially turned me into a cheerleader for theft. Bless this book. BLESS IT.

Death suggests that the creeping thought I had about the ease of this theft may have had another reason than Liesel’s skill:

Or maybe there was a woman on
Grande Strasse who now kept her
library window open for another
reason—but that’s just me being
cynical, or hopeful. Or both.

HA! Maybe the mayor’s wife does feel bad about having to fire Rosa. I mean, that doesn’t erase how fucked up the situation is for the Hubermanns, but there are still moments of hope to latch on to in this story.

Liesel uses The Dream Catcher to continue to hope that Max will be inspired by her words and wake up, that they’ll be able to laugh about their ridiculous journey and that something in her life will be ok. Two chapters a day. That’s what she reads to Max, one of them before she goes to school in the morning, the other the second she returns home.

She gave The Dream Carrier to max as if the words alone could nourish him. On a Tuesday, she thought there was movement. She could have sworn his eyes had opened. If they had, it was only momentarily, and it was more likely just her imagination and wishful thinking.

By mid-March, the cracks began to appear.

Those cracks that Death refers to are the little instances in Liesel’s life at 33 Himmel Street that show that the family can’t maintain this routine for very much longer. Rosa’s the first to bring up something that really does need to be discussed, and as uncomfortable as the conversation is, I actually breathed a sign of relief.

One afternoon, Liesel overhears a stressed Rosa asking Hans what they are supposed to do if Max dies. Truthfully, I was so averse to the idea of Max dying that I also had not thought about the reality of a Jewish corpse in the basement of that house. How do you dispose of his corpse without drawing attention to yourself and doom yourself and your family to certain death? But still, I had to admit that I felt the chapter title referred to this conversation, and not to anything that actually happened.

Liesel isn’t comforted by the conversation, though. Why should she be? But she does correct the terror in that kitchen, even if it’s just for a moment.

Her cold hands felt for her sleeves and a sentence dropped from her mouth. “He’s not dead yet.” The words landed on the table and positioned themselves in the middle. All three people looked at them. Half hopes didn’t dare rise any higher. He isn’t dead yet.

That night, Liesel’s nightmare changes for the first time, and it’s an ominous sign, so that half hope Death just mentioned goes away for me:

For the most part, all is identical.
The train moves at the same speed.
Copiously, her brother coughs.  This
time, however, Liesel cannot see his
face watching the floor. Slowly,
she leans over. Her hand lifts him
gently, from his chin, and there
in front of her is the wide-eyed face
of Max Vandenburg. He stares at her.
A feather drops to the floor. The
body is bigger now, matching the
size of the face. The train screams.

It’s not hard to imagine that this is a sign that Liesel’s subconscious is suggesting the death of Max, maybe to prepare her for the inevitable, or maybe just to remind her that she’s going to lose someone close to her again. Either way, like the conversation in the kitchen about Max’s corpse, it’s not comforting at all.

Rosa Hubermann. Oh, Rosa. If I was to make a list of my favorite scenes in the book by the end of this novel, I know that what happens eight days after this new nightmare appears would make the top part of the list. If you recall, when Liesel went out to play soccer on that day she brought him the deflated ball, her first gift to him, so told Rosa that if Max woke up, she could merely yell at Liesel with anger and insults as a signal that she should come home right away.

While Liesel is at school, I was shocked (AND AMAZINGLY JOYOUS!) when Rosa Hubermann shows up, standing in the doorway, the entire class intimidated by her mere presence. When Liesel steps out into the hallway, the insults start flowing. Hair bursh this, Saumensch that.

The tirade went on for perhaps another minute, with Liesel making a desperate suggestion or two about the possible location of the said brush. It ended abruptly, with Rosa pulling Liesel close, just for a few seconds. Her whisper was almost impossible to hear, even at such close proximity. “You told me to yell at you. You said they’d all believe it.” She looked left and right, her voice like a needle and thread. “He woke up, Liesel. He’s awake.” From her pocket, she pulled out the toy soldier with the scratched exterior. “He said to give you this. It was his favorite.” She handed it over, held her arms tightly, and smiled. Before Liesel had a chance to answer, she finished it off. “Well? Answer me! Do you have any other idea where you might have left it?”

I LOVE YOU FOREVER, ROSA HUBERMANN. I SHOULD HAVE NEVER DOUBTED YOU FOR HALF A SECOND. This moment is so gorgeous because it’s so heartfelt on Rosa’s part, even a bit silly, too. Hell, the silliness of it all is what makes it so great. And then, on top of it all, MAX WOKE UP! HE’S AWAKE!

Everyone waited.

“Stupid cow,” she whispered under her breath.

Liesel plays the part and we know she doesn’t mean it. AND I LOVE IT UNTIL THE END OF TIME.

When she made it home that afternoon, he was sitting up in bed with the deflated soccer ball on his lap. His beard itched him and his swampy eyes fought to stay open. An empty bowl of soup was next to the gifts.

They did not say hello.

It was more like edges.

The door creaked, the girl came in, and she stood before him, looking at the bowl. “Is Mama forcing it down your throat?”

He nodded, content, fatigued. “It was very good, though.”

“Mama’s soup? Really?”

HOW MANY OF YOU EXPERIENCED SHATTERING HEARTS OF JOY AT THIS CONVERSATION. I MEAN REALLY NOW. I’m so glad that Max isn’t dead, and that he’s eating, that there’s a chance he might recover from all of this.

After an hour, Liesel made an attempt on the truth. “We didn’t know what we’d do if you’d died, Max. We—“

It didn’t take him long. “you mean, how to get rid of me?”

“I’m sorry.”

“No.” He was not offended. “You were right.” He played weakly with the ball. “You were right to think that way. In your situation, a dead Jew is just as dangerous as a live one, if not worse.”

Did this strike anyone as a particularly terrifying revelation? The fact that these people live in a world where this is something that Max can just utter very matter-of-factly and no one is like, “OH HEY, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SAYING” Well, that’s the privilege that most of us live under, in that we literally cannot conceive of such a frightening concept.

He sat up a little higher and paused for a dozen silent sentences. Trepidation found its way onto his face and he made a confession to the girl. “Liesel?” He moved slightly to the right. “I’m afraid,” he said, “of falling asleep again.”

Liesel, dedicated to saving him and keeping alive, agrees to continue to read to him to keep him awake, and do anything she can to make sure he doesn’t fall asleep.

Obviously, this is not a workable solution, and it only lasts for just a day or so, but it’s the start of Max’s journey to returning to a healthier state.

In Liesel’s world, there was great relief in that time. Outside, things were starting to look shaky. Late in March, a place called Lübeck was hailed with bombs. Next in line would be Cologne, and soon enough, many more German cities, including Munich.

Yes, the boss was at my shoulder.

“Get it done, get it done.”

The bombs were coming—and so was I.


About Mark Oshiro

Perpetually unprepared since '09.
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35 Responses to Mark Reads ‘The Book Thief’: Chapters 47-48

  1. I kind of want to read The Whistler. I wonder if it's inspired by M, which is also about a whistling killer.

    • cait0716 says:

      I'm convinced The Whistler has something to do with Pffiffikus, which is definitely not how you spell that. At least thematically. Especially with the way that book ended, I think Pffiffikus is far more sinister than he appears.

      • Gabbie says:

        How do you say his name? Three consonants in a row, DNW.

        • cait0716 says:

          No idea. In my head, I just refer to him as "P".

        • Emily Crnk says:

          Honestly? I just say "Puffy-kiss" in my head…. INCORRECT AND I KNOW IT

        • CuriousApe says:

          Pf is pronounced like a sharper "f", kind of like "umph" without the "um". No idea if that description makes any sense whatsoever. But it's basically like the Name Marcus, just replace "Mar" with "Fiffy". (The correct spelling should be "Pfiffikus", btw. Only deletes one of the consonants, but still.)

          Man, my language is *weird*.

  2. SecretGirl127 says:

    MAX IS ALIVE!!!!!!!!!

  3. anninyn says:

    'The bombs were coming- and so was I' goddamn you WHY MUST YOU MAKE ME SUFFER LIKE THIS GIVE ME ONE THING, ONE THING. All I want is for these people I have grown to love to be untouched by this horrible, brutal war, PLEASE.

    I think people in Britain forgot that we bombed Germany too. We had to, we genuinely didn;t have a choice. German planes were hitting civilian targets, and we were angry and scared, so we bombed their civilian targets too, to show them that it wasn;t just them who could do that and did they really want to play this game when we had nothing to lose?

    I think people should always remember the atrocities their countries have perpertrated, as well as the atrocities that others forced on us. It would foster understanding and remove anger, to just admit that you hurt people too. Americans should visit Hiroshima. The British should visit Dresden. So on, and so on.

    • ldwy says:

      You make a really good, beautiful and sad point. No one comes out of a war innocent. No person, no country. Ignoring that will never help us progress, hopefully, to a point where we never repeat these things.

  4. monkeybutter says:

    I LOVE YOU FOREVER, ROSA HUBERMANN. I SHOULD HAVE NEVER DOUBTED YOU FOR HALF A SECOND. This moment is so gorgeous because it’s so heartfelt on Rosa’s part, even a bit silly, too. Hell, the silliness of it all is what makes it so great.

    Despite its title, Chapter 48 is one of my favorites in the book, purely because of Rosa. It's odd how much of a relief it is to see her angry and shouty again; that's how you know everything's fine! She only calls people names when things are going fine. That the entire class is terrified of her mere presence is icing on the cake. And then one of the first things Liesel says to Max is a dig at Rosa's cooking. Beautiful. They're a great family.

    I'm sorry, Mark. I watched a family member die a slow death due to dementia, and it's painful to watch someone you love lose herself. You want to fix things, but you can't. The best I could do was visit and try to remind her that she was loved, even if she wasn't conscious of it. It's as much for your comfort as theirs. I loved Liesel's gifts for that reason; it gave her a feeling of control over the situation, and a reminder that he was wanted gave Max something to hang onto.

  5. QuoteMyFoot says:

    Max & Liesel in this chapter = ALL OF THE HEARTWARMING, Y/Y. Even Liesel's new nightmare is heartwarming in a way, because Max is now family. At least, that's what it means to me.

    And then of course Death has to spoil it all for us. Thank you very much, sir. I absolutely needed to worry more about my heart being crushed to itty bitty pieces. Again.

  6. cait0716 says:

    I was holding my breath all the way through these chapters. Death even says right up front that Max doesn't die, and I was still half convinced that he would die. I was so relieved when Rosa came to school to yell at Liesel. Definitely shattered my heart with joy.

    • SecretGirl127 says:

      I was so caught up, I didn't even remember Death telling us Max doesn't die at the beginning.

      • cait0716 says:

        This happens a lot to me with the things Death has spoiled. I forget about it until he reminds me again that Rudy's going to die or something. It's just so easy to get caught up in the story. Zusak has a definite gift

      • ldwy says:

        I definitely didn't remember it until people started posting about it.

  7. mugglemomof2 says:

    I LOVE YOU FOREVER, ROSA HUBERMANN. I SHOULD HAVE NEVER DOUBTED YOU FOR HALF A SECOND. This moment is so gorgeous because it’s so heartfelt on Rosa’s part, even a bit silly, too. Hell, the silliness of it all is what makes it so great. And then, on top of it all, MAX WOKE UP! HE’S AWAKE!
    Clearly one of the best scenes in the entire book!!!!

  8. canyonoflight says:

    I was there when my dad died, or more aptly when the machines ceased to keep his body alive. He had been brain dead for a long time and was still having seizures. I could see them move across his forehead like scarabs. He had had a heart attack that afternoon while working at a house with his friend Mike. He was sitting on the steps and keeled over, hitting his head on a rock. It took an hour of CPR to get a faint pulse, so he was already gone by the time I got to the hospital. They tried everything anyway and he didn't flat line until 12 hours later. My mother and I were the only ones in the room with him. To be honest, I was only there so she wouldn't be alone. My sister couldn't do it. It was the most horrible day of my life.

    A couple of years later, we were all with my grandmother when she passed. She had dementia and it had gotten to the point where she refused to eat. Then, a pipe burst over her bed at the nursing home and she got pneumonia. The nursing home is connected to the hospital (it's a very small town) so she was put there almost immediately when she showed symptoms. But, she refused to eat and after a few days, the feeding tube just wasn't enough. Her sister was able to come up to see her and after she left, my grandma let go. The death gurgle exists. It was very peaceful. I was actually relieved that her suffering was over because she had been in and out of hospitals and nursing homes for six years and she couldn't remember who we were. My mom wasn't as prepared as she thought she was, though. It broke my heart to see her so broken.

    • LOTRjunkie says:

      Oh, god, you guys, I'm going to cry. I'm sorry all of you had to go through this. My grandpa had Alzheimer's, too, although he died a little over a year ago due to complications with cancer. The last time I saw him, he gave me a short, sweet speech about how I should do well in school, listen to my parents, and have a basically good life. (If you're wondering about his priorities, keep in mind that he was a traditional Chinese man. It makes sense.) To this day, I completely believe that he knew it was the last time we were going to see each other and that was his goodbye. One of the greatest gifts my grandpa ever gave me was that goodbye- It gave me sense of closure when I was dealing with the aftermath of his death and left me with one of the best reminders of what he was like.

  9. jennywildcat says:


    *raises hand. Twice*

    Honestly, I thought Max had already died (shows how much I pay attention) and that chapter title meant this would be able the Hubermanns getting Max's body out of the house without being noticed – BUT MAX IS ALIVE!! YAY!!

  10. Gabbie says:

    How many things have we all decided on this site that we love 'til the end of all time?
    Let's see, there's the characters:
    -Finnick, I'm sure
    (We need more! someone make a list.)
    And then awesome moments throughout this book and the last book series you reviewed. Rosa interrupting Liesel's class to tell her in code that Max woke up is definitely one of them. (It's one of my favorite parts, as well as all things Rudy and Hansi.)

    • SecretGirl127 says:

      You left out Hagrid!

      • Gabbie says:

        Holy smokes, you're right!! *adds to list*

        • canadadian says:

          And Luna! And Molly Weasley, and Katniss, and Hedwig, and Lupin, and the Twins, and Dobby, and Boggs, and Hermione, and Johanna…
          Sorry. I'm a geek, what're you gonna do about it? But basically all of the BAMFs and purely awesome/hilarious characters.

  11. Gabbie says:

    My mind immediately thought of Omaha Beach, but yeah you're right. (I stink at timelines and geography.)

  12. tethysdust says:

    My visit to Hiroshima was very emotionally exhausting. I went with a few friends, and an older gentleman offered to guide us around the city (yes, I know, sounds sketchy). Apparently, he was a fetus when the bomb hit, and his mother was far enough away from the blast that neither she nor he died. As one of the 'last survivors' he decided it was his responsibility to help people understand what had happened there, so that it would hopefully never happen again anywhere. He took us around to all the major sites of Hiroshima, giving us historical information and stories to put each in context, and left us at the Peace Memorial Museum. I have no idea if he was a fraud or not, but he did not ask for or even accept any money from us. He said that giving these tours was his life's work, not his career. Starting with so much information and personal context, I felt that the Peace Museum was very effective in getting its point across. "Let All Souls Here Rest in Peace, For We Shall Not Repeat the Evil."

    I would vote for Americans visiting Hiroshima, simply because the way we (or at least I and everyone I know) are taught of the nuclear strikes on Japan (and WWII for that matter) is ridiculously self-righteous. The US has done great things, but we have also done some pretty terrible things. I think it would be a good idea to acknowledge them.

  13. tethysdust says:

    I totally thought Max was going to die. Why does Death spoil us on so much and then just casually throw out titles like "FRESH AIR, AN OLD NIGHTMARE, AND WHAT TO DO WITH A JEWISH CORPSE"!?!? I am still afraid that he's going to die at some point during the story, but so relieved that at least he has a little more time.

    I also like the idea that the mayor's wife is consciously letting Liesel steal books. I really hope that's true, because it is just so awesome to think that she understood why Liesel lashed out, she understands why Liesel doesn't feel like she can accept books as gifts from her, and that she still wants to help her somehow.

  14. Ellalalalala says:

    These chapters. I wept. Then I came here, and wept some more. JEEBUS.

    The basement snowman through Max's recovery are my favourite chapters thus far. The gifts broke me. This family breaks me.

    And I'm so proud of Max for fighting off Death. He didn't quite land a punch on his nose, but he wasn't ready to go yet.

    And reading about your and everyone else's experiences with losing loved ones is beautiful and devastating. There are no words that can help, but there are lots of thoughts for you all.

  15. maybenow says:

    I just wanted to thank you for being so conscious of what effect the things you post could have on people. I've had the unfortunate experience of reading blatantly triggering self-injury stuff with absolutely no warning multiple times, so I really appreciate you erring on the side of caution with your trigger warnings.
    I haven't been commenting since you moved off buzznet (too lazy to make yet another account) but I've been reading your reviews and ended up reading and loving both The Hunger Games and The Book Thief.
    So yeah, I'll end here before I just start gushing about your awesomeness. But infinite thanks for sharing your views and stories with all of us <3.

  16. Aylalala says:

    That is kind of like how the audiobook pronounces it.

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