{"id":287,"date":"2011-04-12T07:00:25","date_gmt":"2011-04-12T14:00:25","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/markreads.net\/reviews\/?p=287"},"modified":"2011-04-10T14:58:03","modified_gmt":"2011-04-10T21:58:03","slug":"mark-reads-the-book-thief-chapter-37-38","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/markreads.net\/reviews\/2011\/04\/mark-reads-the-book-thief-chapter-37-38\/","title":{"rendered":"Mark Reads ‘The Book Thief’: Chapter 37-38"},"content":{"rendered":"

In the thirty-seventh and thirty-eighth chapters of The Book Thief<\/em>, WHAT THE HELL THIS IS SO WEIRD AND UNCOMFORTABLE. Intrigued? Then it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s time for Mark to read The Book Thief<\/em>.<\/p>\n

PART FIVE
\nthe whistler<\/strong><\/p>\n

CH. 37: THE FLOATING BOOK (Part I)<\/strong>
\n<\/strong><\/p>\n

HOLY WHAT. WHAT<\/em>.<\/p>\n

How do I even talk about this? How is this even real<\/em>.<\/p>\n

A book floated down the Amper River.<\/p>\n
A boy jumped in, caught up to it, and held it in his right hand. He grinned.<\/p>\n
He stood waist-deep in the icy, Decemberish water.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153How about a kiss, Saumensch<\/em>?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he said.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
Clearly Rudy and clearly the next book Liesel is going to get, right? I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t think this counts as a stolen one, though.<\/p>\n
* * * A SMALL ANNOUNCEMENT * * *
\nABOUT RUDY STEINER
\nHe didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t deserve to die the way he did.<\/strong><\/p>\n
DEATH, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? First of all: WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!<\/em> Second of all: WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS NOW AND LIKE THIS. Oh god, RUDY. :: heart shatters ::<\/p>\n
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.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
Ok, I am seriously confused. So whatever happens to kill Rudy isn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t even for another two years? Which would make it\u00e2\u20ac\u00a61942, yes? THIS IS SO DISORIENTING. Why does Death insist on doing this?<\/p>\n
On many counts, taking a boy like Rudy was robbery\u00e2\u20ac\u201dso much life, so much to live for\u00e2\u20ac\u201dyet somehow, I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m certain he would have loved to see the frightening rubble and the swelling of the sky on the night he passed away. He\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d 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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d have been glad to witness her kissing his dusty, bomb-hit lips.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
So Rudy dies in a bomb blast, I presume. Even when describing ugly moments, Zusak is quick to use kind of beautiful imagery. It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s almost distracting because I like it so much, but he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s describing Rudy\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s death, so I feel conflicting emotions.<\/p>\n
What the hell is going on.<\/p>\n
CH. 38: THE GAMBLERS (A SEVEN-SIDED DIE)<\/strong><\/p>\n
Of course, I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m being rude. I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m 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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t have much interest in building mystery. Mystery bores me. It chores me. I know what happens and so do you. It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s the machinations that wheel us there that aggravate, perplex, interest, and astound me.<\/p>\n
There are many things to think of.<\/p>\n
There is much story.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
WELL THIS IS QUITE A WAY TO INTRODUCE THIS STORY, ISN\u00e2\u20ac\u2122T 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<\/em>.<\/p>\n
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<\/em> than Rudy Steiner dying. I mean\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6if you\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve read it, you know<\/em>. UGH. Shall we?<\/p>\n
The Haircut: Mid-April 1941<\/em><\/p>\n
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 \u00e2\u20ac\u0153seven-sided die\u00e2\u20ac\u009d to represent the metaphor, Death relates the story to us through seven sections, each a different side of the die. They\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re all pieces of a complex puzzle that come together to not only end with Rudy Steiner\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s death, but to fulfill my not-so-talented-but-true prediction that everything here was bound to fall apart.<\/p>\n
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. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s getting me in the eyes,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d 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:<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll probably make a lot of mistakes on him anyway.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Mistakes?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Papa looked ready to tear his own hair out by that stage, but his voice became a barely audible whisper. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Who the hell\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s going to see<\/em> him?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d 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, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Would you?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
I think that, in a way, Zusak puts this here as a way to contrast Liesel\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s behavior later in the story, but I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t 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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s the least talented, but they have such a deep understanding of each other that Max feels that is more important to him.<\/p>\n
The haircutting scene is wonderfully affectionate as well. I love that Max tells Liesel, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153As many mistakes as you want,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d further supporting this idea of his innate trustin her.<\/p>\n
Again, Max was in the doorway, this time at the top of the basement steps. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Thanks, Liesel.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d His voice was tall and husky, with the sound in it of a hidden smile.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t think I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve ever heard\/read the phrase \u00e2\u20ac\u0153hidden smile\u00e2\u20ac\u009d before, but it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s fantastic how I know exactly what Zusak means when he writes it. Goddamn, I love this book.<\/p>\n
The Newspaper: Early May<\/em><\/p>\n
Time is moving much quicker in this section than any of the others so far, and I get the feeling it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s not just because we need to eventually reach Rudy Steiner in 1942. I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t think we\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll visit these years again after this, so Zusak fills in as much of the necessary story as possible.<\/p>\n
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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s 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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t know if Liesel eventually will do something so catastrophic quite yet, as I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t get the idea that she could actually<\/em> do it, but when I first read this section, I thought she was indeed doing it, until I got to the word \u00e2\u20ac\u0153imagined.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Thankfully, she excuses herself immediately after the first time she has this sensation.<\/p>\n
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?<\/p>\n
Anyway, just a side thought. On her way home from the mayor\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s mansion, Liesel rummages in the various garbage cans along her route to see if anyone has discarded a Molching Express<\/em>. 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.<\/p>\n
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.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Hi, Max.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Hi, Liesel.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
They would sit and read.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
A bit of a side journey about silence, which will help explain why I love this so much. I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m a talkative guy, I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d like to think. This didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t 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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t being silent and obedient, I would need to be louder<\/em> if I wanted to be heard. But, by and large, I wsn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t heard and my household dynamic was designed so I wouldn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t<\/em> be heard. As I found my voice (literally and figuratively) in high school, I found that I really really enjoyed talking<\/em>. After having been quiet, serene, and passive for so long, there was an inherent power in being able to say what<\/em> I wanted and when<\/em> I wanted to say it.<\/p>\n
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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t involve speaking outloud in person, since all the people I interact with are on the Internet, you have<\/em> to be outspoken to the company you work for to constantly communicate the needs and issues that a community has.<\/p>\n
All in all, these days I talk a lot. I would consider myself well-spoken and I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve 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.<\/p>\n
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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t 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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s 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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122T SHUT UP during a panel that day, but then\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6silence 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.<\/p>\n
And I loved it. I loved being in a city so large, so huge, so dense<\/em>, 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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t want to talk? I do enough of it as it is, and I love that this place is so large that I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t 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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t say a word, and I enjoy my own silence.<\/p>\n
I think that in the Hubermann household, given both Max\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s and Liesel\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s pasts, they, too, appreciate the calm silence of each other\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s company. Sometimes, that can be a beautifully intimate moment.<\/p>\n
The Weatherman: Mid-May<\/em><\/p>\n
If The Standover Man<\/em> 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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s 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:<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153You told me all about the goal,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he said, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153but I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t know what sort of day it is up there. I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t know if you scored it in the sun, or if the clouds have covered everything.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d His hand prodded at his short-cropped hair, and his swampy eyes pleaded for the simplest of simple things. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Could you go up and tell me how the weather looks?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s 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<\/em> is a luxury to him.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153The sky is blue today, Max, and there is a big long cloud, and it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s stretched out, like a rope. At the end of it, the sun is like a yellow hole\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
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\u00e2\u20ac\u201da thin girl and a withering Jew\u00e2\u20ac\u201dand they were walking, arms balanced, toward that dripping sun. Beneath the picture, he wrote the following sentence.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
Oh man, ready for one of those punch-in-the-face sentences?<\/p>\n
* * * THE WALL-WRITTEN WORDS * * *
\nOF MAX VANDENBURG
\nIt was a Monday, and they walked
\non a tightrope to the sun.<\/strong><\/p>\n
I may not have figured out why<\/em> this book is written the way it is, and I certainly don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t know if I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll enjoy the second half of The Book Thief<\/em> as much as the first, but good lord, I am so impressed with Zusak\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s style.<\/p>\n
The Boxer: End of May<\/em><\/p>\n
And now we are to part four, which is perhaps the most disturbing and flat-out confusing part of The Book Thief <\/em>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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m 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.<\/p>\n
I know some of you have to be history buffs, so I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d like a little perspective specifically about how Nazi Germany and Hitler is portrayed in this book, most specifically this chapter. I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t want to summarize all of it, but, briefly, Max\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s 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<\/strong>. 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<\/em> Nazism to most people, and I know from my studies that this is horrifically simplistic.<\/p>\n
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<\/em> these experiences. And I think that\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s 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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re 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.<\/p>\n
I guess I am concerned that because of my own perspective and lack of personal history regarding this, I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t 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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s 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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s regime:<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Can you see that this enemy has found its ways\u00e2\u20ac\u201dit\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s despicable ways\u00e2\u20ac\u201dthrough our armor, and that clearly, I cannot stand up here alone and fight him?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d The words were visible. They dropped from his moth like jewels. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Look at him! Take a good look.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d They looked. At the bloodied Max Vandenburg. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153As we speak, he is plotting his way into your neighborhood. He\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s moving in next door. He\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s infesting you with his family and he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s about to take you over. He\u00e2\u20ac\u201d\u00e2\u20ac\u0153 Hitler glanced at him a moment, with disgust. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153He 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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll 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? Or\u00e2\u20ac\u009d\u00e2\u20ac\u201dand now he stepped one rung higher\u00e2\u20ac\u201d\u00e2\u20ac\u0153will you climb up into this ring with me?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
Othering. Presenting the \u00e2\u20ac\u0153enemy\u00e2\u20ac\u009d as an invading force. Presenting them as a thief. Presenting the \u00e2\u20ac\u0153failures\u00e2\u20ac\u009d of past leaders. Presenting the threat of poverty. So much of it is here, and it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s such a difficult thing to read.<\/p>\n
The New Dream: A Few Nights Later<\/em><\/p>\n
It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s not long before Max, always trusting Liesel, decides to share this new \u00e2\u20ac\u0153waking\u00e2\u20ac\u009d dream that he has with his friend. And even though it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s just a dream, he tells her that this is why he does push ups and sit ups. He\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s preparing:<\/p>\n
Liesel was standing now. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Who wins?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
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.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I do,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he said.<\/p>\n
It was as though he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d opened her palm, given her the words, and closed it up again.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
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<\/em> he is actually going to win.<\/p>\n
The Painters: Early June<\/em><\/p>\n
And it certainly gives me<\/em> 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<\/em> page of Mein Kampf<\/em>, painting each of them white and hanging them to dry. There\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s even a bit of humor to the first time Liesel finds her entire family helping out:<\/p>\n
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<\/em>.<\/p>\n
All three people looked up and spoke.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Hi, Liesel.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Here\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s a brush, Liesel.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153About time, Saumensch<\/em>. Where have you been so long?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
HA I LOVE IT, especially since we can easily tell who said what.<\/p>\n
That afternoon, in the secret ground below 33 Himmel Street, the Hubermanns, Liesel Meminger, and Max Vandenburg prepared the pages of The Word Shaker<\/em>.<\/p>\n
It felt good to be a painter.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
So, now the question is: Is that Max\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s book or Liesel\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s? INTRIGUED, I MUST SAY.<\/p>\n
The Showdown: June 24<\/em><\/p>\n
All good things must come to an end, right? That\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s 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 \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Britain and the Soviets joined forces.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
Seven.<\/p>\n
You roll it and watch it coming, realizing that this is no regular die. You claim it to be bad luck, but you\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve 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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s smeared to your lapel, and the moment you roll, you know it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s a seven\u00e2\u20ac\u201dthe 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.<\/p>\n
Just bad luck.<\/p>\n
That\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s what you say.<\/p>\n
Of no consequence.<\/p>\n
That\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s what you make yourself believe\u00e2\u20ac\u201dbecause 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.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t quite understand why this is framed as the number seven, or as an impossible side of a die. I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d 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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t want to read about it. I have started to become attached to this makeshift family in 33 Himmel Street, and I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t want them to leave.<\/p>\n
Right off the bat, we\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re told that \u00e2\u20ac\u0153the showdown\u00e2\u20ac\u009d 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<\/em> 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 \u00e2\u20ac\u0153harder times.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d A week later, while Liesel is reading The Whistler<\/em> in the library with Frau Hermann, the mayor\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s wife insists that Liesel take it home with her. Finally, she agrees to it, and then prepares to ask for that week\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s washing:<\/p>\n
As she was about to ask for the washing, the mayor\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s 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. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m sorry. It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s for your mama.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s 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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d not seen from her in a long, long time.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153If you ever want to come just to read,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d the woman lied (or at least the girl, in her shocked, saddened state, perceived it as a lie), \u00e2\u20ac\u0153you\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re very welcome.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s 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.<\/p>\n
As she sits outside the mayor\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s 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 \u00e2\u20ac\u0153prepare for harder times.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s when she decides to turn around to confront the mayor\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s wife, racing back to the mansion, knocking on the door furiously, and watching the mayor\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s 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.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153You and your husband. Sitting up here.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Now she became spiteful. More spiteful and evil than she thought herself capable.<\/p>\n
The injury of words.<\/p>\n
Yes, the brutality of words.<\/p>\n
She summoned them from someplace she only now recognized and hurled them at Ilsa Hermann. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s about time,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she informed her, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153that you do your own stinking washing anyway. It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s 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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s dead! He\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s dead and it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s pathetic that you sit here shivering in your own house to suffer for it. You think you\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re the only one?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t even know what to say about this, as it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s so brutally shocking to me to read Liesel saying these things. It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s so cruel and rude and frightening, all things I never thought I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d feel for Liesel. Above all, it just makes me sad.<\/p>\n
Liesel throws the book at Frau Hermann\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s feet, telling her she doesn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t want her \u00e2\u20ac\u0153gift,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d and Zusak describes the mayor\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s wife\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s reaction in a metaphor of violence, as if Liesel\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s 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.<\/p>\n
But Liesel\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s fury doesn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t wane by the time she gets home, and there\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s seemingly no guilt that accompanies it, either. When Rosa discovers that the mayor has fired her, she\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s so dejected that she can\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t even be angry at Liesel.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s my fault,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Liesel answered. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Completely. I insulted the mayor\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s wife and told her to stop crying over her dead son. I called her pathetic. That was when they fired you. Here.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d She walked to the wooden spoons, grabbed a handful, and placed them in front of her. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Take your pick.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
Rosa touched one and picked it up, but she did not wield it. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t believe you.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s only now that I begin to understand Liesel\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s reaction to Rosa\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s firing. Liesel wants to be responsible and punished for it because only then<\/em> 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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s partially offended that Liesel expects her to be that brutal and unfair, too. There\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s no Watschen<\/em> 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.<\/p>\n
Guilt doesn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t seem to creep in until that night, when Hans sits with Liesel while they read. When he asks her if it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s the washing that bothers her so much, she gives a surprising answer:<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Papa,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she whispered, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I think I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m going to hell.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s kind of weird to read this, especially since God hasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t 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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s 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.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153You\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re not going to hell,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Papa replied.<\/p>\n
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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s die.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
Well, everything\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s about to get so much worse, isn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t it?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
In the thirty-seventh and thirty-eighth chapters of The Book Thief, WHAT THE HELL THIS IS SO WEIRD AND UNCOMFORTABLE. Intrigued? Then it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s time for Mark to read The Book Thief.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[43],"tags":[23,46,45,44],"class_list":["post-287","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-the-book-thief","tag-mark-reads","tag-mark-reads-the-book-thief","tag-markus-zusak","tag-the-book-thief-2"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/markreads.net\/reviews\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/287","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/markreads.net\/reviews\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/markreads.net\/reviews\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/markreads.net\/reviews\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/markreads.net\/reviews\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=287"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/markreads.net\/reviews\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/287\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/markreads.net\/reviews\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=287"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/markreads.net\/reviews\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=287"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/markreads.net\/reviews\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=287"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}