{"id":302,"date":"2011-04-18T07:00:33","date_gmt":"2011-04-18T14:00:33","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/markreads.net\/reviews\/?p=302"},"modified":"2011-04-16T19:26:56","modified_gmt":"2011-04-17T02:26:56","slug":"mark-reads-the-book-thief-chapters-47-48","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/markreads.net\/reviews\/2011\/04\/mark-reads-the-book-thief-chapters-47-48\/","title":{"rendered":"Mark Reads ‘The Book Thief’: Chapters 47-48"},"content":{"rendered":"

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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s time for Mark to read The Book Thief. <\/em><\/p>\n

Watching someone die is a really weird thing.<\/p>\n

(Trigger warning, just in case, for discussion of death.)<\/p>\n

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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s still something I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t think I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll ever understand.<\/p>\n

While I wasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t 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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d had a friend die suddenly in high school, but he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d graduated and I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d lost touch, so it didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t 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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t really tell any of us that was the point of his trip home. We all found out after the fact.<\/p>\n

In the summer of 2006, my dad\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s Alzheimer\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s got worse and every time I came to visit him, he seemed to forget more and more of the life we\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d shared together. On top of that, just a month before he died, he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d found out he had brain and lung cancer, and he told us that he wasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t 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.<\/p>\n

But I didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t understand it for myself, and I became possessed with this desire to fight for <\/em>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.<\/p>\n

It was hard to wrap my mind around most of those days, even now, after I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve written extensively about the death of my father. It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s coming up on five years since he left, and some days I still think he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s sitting at home in his recliner, watching awful re-runs and drinking bitter cups of lukewarm coffee. But he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s not, and that\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s what death does. It takes someone away from you and you don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t believe it, even though you have to.<\/p>\n

The second time I watched someone die, thankfully, it didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t 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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s somehow worse<\/em> than death, because with death, the physical form is gone. And here was someone I cared about who looked<\/em> like they were still here, but they weren\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t. And that was so much more painful to me.<\/p>\n

CH. 33: THIRTEEN PRESENTS<\/strong><\/p>\n

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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d remember, and in the case of my friend, things they might wake up for.<\/p>\n

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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll wake up and say hello.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m sorry,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she said, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s not much. But when you wake up, I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll tell you all about it. I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll 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<\/em> he asked for directions. The nerve of him\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
Wake up! She wanted to scream.<\/p>\n
Or shake him.<\/p>\n
She didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t.<\/p>\n
All Liesel could do was watch the ball and its trampled, flaking skin. It was the first gift of many.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
If it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s the same for her as it was for me, it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s a routine. It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s 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.<\/p>\n
When she was alone, she would conduct those conversations.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153So what\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s all this?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Max would say. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153What\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s all this junk?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Junk?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d In her mind, she was sitting on the side of the bed. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153This isn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t junk, Max. These are what made you wake up.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
Liesel constructs this narrative as a way to comfort herself, and it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s 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<\/em> 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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s 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, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Memorize it. Then write it down for him.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6It was like a great white beast,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she said at her next bedside vigil, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153and it came from over the mountains.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
When the sentence was completed with several different adjustments and additions, Liesel felt like she\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d 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.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
Seriously, to all of you who told me to read this book next for Mark Reads, DO YOU LIVE INSIDE MY MIND.<\/em> I suppose it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s terribly obvious that I would absolutely love this, being a reader and a writer myself, but it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s almost as if this story is, in many ways, uniquely catered to my brain. I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH.<\/p>\n
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:<\/p>\n
She did not have dinner that afternoon or go to the toilet. She didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t 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.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
And so Liesel puts herself on a mission, maybe to distract herself from the reality of Max\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s condition, maybe for a sense of personal challenge, and maybe just a combination of any number of things.\u00c2\u00a0 But she becomes determined to finish off The Whistler<\/em> in a final journey. The book itself seems pretty morbid, considering we know it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s 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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s side. But when she looks up, he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s still just as silent as ever.<\/p>\n
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:<\/p>\n
As she hovered above him, she couldn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t help herself. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Come on, Max,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she whispered, and even the sound of Mama\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s arrival at her back did not stop her from silently crying. It didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t stop her from pulling a lump of salt water from her eye and feeding it onto Max Vandenburg\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s face.<\/p>\n
Mama took her.<\/p>\n
Her arms swallowed her.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I know,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she said.<\/p>\n
She knew.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
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.<\/p>\n
CH. 48: FRESH AIR, AN OLD NIGHTMARE, AND WHAT TO DO WITH A JEWISH CORPSE<\/strong><\/p>\n
And that chapter title DID NOT HELP THINGS AT ALL. A Jewish corpse? Oh god, MAX IS GOING TO DIE, ISN\u00e2\u20ac\u2122T HE?<\/p>\n
Zusak isn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t quite prepared to give us the answer to that (YOU ASSHOLE), as we take a detour from Max\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s condition to Rudy Steiner and Liesel Meminger, who both want to return to the mayor\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s house to steal. This time, Rudy wants to make sure that he is in on the action, that Liesel doesn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t just leave him behind so she can steal a book without telling him.<\/p>\n
Their approach to this round of thieving is different as well, as Rudy suggests the two of them take bicycles up to the mayor\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s house so that they have a better escape plan just in case. Well\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6.I also enjoyed Liesel\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s jab at Rudy regarding the bikes:<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153We\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll just ride around the block a few times,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Rudy said. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Lucky we brought the bikes, huh?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Just make sure you remember to take yours home.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Very funny, Saumensch<\/em>. It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s a bit bigger than your filthy shoes.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
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<\/em> thinking about it, but whatever. MUST ENJOY WHAT IS HERE WHILE IT LASTS.<\/p>\n
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<\/em>.<\/p>\n
Given that she\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s done this before, I, like Liesel, feel a lot more comfortable about her being there, which is probably bad because you shouldn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t feel<\/em> comfortable about breaking into someone\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s house. But something about this theft seemed so\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6easy? I mean, Zusak describes the theft and escape in just one sentence:<\/p>\n
She slid the book [The Dream Carrier<\/em>] from the shelf, tucked it under her arm, climbed to the window ledge, and jumped out, all in one motion.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
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.<\/p>\n
Death suggests that the creeping thought I had about the ease of this theft may have had another reason than Liesel\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s skill:<\/p>\n
A SMALL SUGGESTION
\nOr maybe there was a woman on
\nGrande Strasse who now kept her
\nlibrary window open for another
\nreason\u00e2\u20ac\u201dbut that\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s just me being
\ncynical, or hopeful. Or both.<\/strong><\/p>\n
HA! Maybe the mayor\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s wife does<\/em> feel bad about having to fire Rosa. I mean, that doesn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t erase how fucked up the situation is for the Hubermanns, but there are still moments of hope to latch on to in this story.<\/p>\n
Liesel uses The Dream Catcher<\/em> to continue to hope that Max will be inspired by her words and wake up, that they\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll be able to laugh about their ridiculous journey and that something<\/em> in her life will be ok. Two chapters a day. That\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s what she reads to Max, one of them before she goes to school in the morning, the other the second she returns home.<\/p>\n
She gave The Dream Carrier<\/em> 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.<\/p>\n
By mid-March, the cracks began to appear.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
Those cracks that Death refers to are the little instances in Liesel\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s life at 33 Himmel Street that show that the family can\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t maintain this routine for very much longer. Rosa\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s 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.<\/p>\n
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<\/em> 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<\/em> conversation, and not to anything that actually happened.<\/p>\n
Liesel isn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t comforted by the conversation, though. Why should she be? But she does correct the terror in that kitchen, even if it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s just for a moment.<\/p>\n
Her cold hands felt for her sleeves and a sentence dropped from her mouth. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153He\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s not dead yet.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d The words landed on the table and positioned themselves in the middle. All three people looked at them. Half hopes didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t dare rise any higher. He isn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t dead yet.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
That night, Liesel\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s nightmare changes for the first time, and it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s an ominous sign, so that half hope Death just mentioned goes away for me:<\/p>\n
For the most part, all is identical.
\nThe train moves at the same speed.
\nCopiously, her brother coughs.\u00c2\u00a0 This
\ntime, however, Liesel cannot see his
\nface watching the floor. Slowly,
\nshe leans over. Her hand lifts him
\ngently, from his chin, and there
\nin front of her is the wide-eyed face
\nof Max Vandenburg. He stares at her.
\nA feather drops to the floor. The
\nbody is bigger now, matching the
\nsize of the face. The train screams.<\/strong><\/p>\n
It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s not hard to imagine that this is a sign that Liesel\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s subconscious is suggesting the death of Max, maybe to prepare her for the inevitable, or maybe just to remind her that she\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s going to lose someone close to her again. Either way, like the conversation in the kitchen about Max\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s corpse, it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s not comforting at all.<\/p>\n
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.<\/p>\n
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<\/em> that.<\/p>\n
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. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153You told me to yell at you. You said they\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d all believe it.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d She looked left and right, her voice like a needle and thread. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153He woke up, Liesel. He\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s awake.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d From her pocket, she pulled out the toy soldier with the scratched exterior. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153He said to give you this. It was his favorite.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d She handed it over, held her arms tightly, and smiled. Before Liesel had a chance to answer, she finished it off. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Well? Answer me! Do you have any other idea where you might have left it?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
I LOVE YOU FOREVER, ROSA HUBERMANN. I SHOULD HAVE NEVER DOUBTED YOU FOR HALF A SECOND. This moment is so gorgeous because it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s so heartfelt on Rosa\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s part, even a bit silly, too. Hell, the silliness of it all is what makes<\/em> it so great. And then, on top of it all, MAX WOKE UP! HE\u00e2\u20ac\u2122S AWAKE!<\/p>\n
Everyone waited.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Stupid cow,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she whispered under her breath.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
Liesel plays the part and we know she doesn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t mean it. AND I LOVE IT UNTIL THE END OF TIME.<\/p>\n
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.<\/p>\n
They did not say hello.<\/p>\n
It was more like edges.<\/p>\n
The door creaked, the girl came in, and she stood before him, looking at the bowl. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Is Mama forcing it down your throat?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
He nodded, content, fatigued. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153It was very good, though.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Mama\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s soup? Really?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
HOW MANY OF YOU EXPERIENCED SHATTERING HEARTS OF JOY AT THIS CONVERSATION. I MEAN REALLY NOW<\/em>. I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m so glad that Max isn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t dead, and that he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s eating, that there\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s a chance he might recover from all of this.<\/p>\n
After an hour, Liesel made an attempt on the truth. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153We didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t know what we\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d do if you\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d died, Max. We\u00e2\u20ac\u201d\u00e2\u20ac\u0153<\/p>\n
It didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t take him long. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153you mean, how to get rid of me?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m sorry.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153No.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d He was not offended. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153You were right.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d He played weakly with the ball. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153You were right to think that way. In your situation, a dead Jew is just as dangerous as a live one, if not worse.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
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, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153OH HEY, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SAYING<\/em>\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Well, that\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s the privilege that most of us live under, in that we literally cannot conceive of such a frightening concept.<\/p>\n
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. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Liesel?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d He moved slightly to the right. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m afraid,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he said, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153of falling asleep again.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
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\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t fall asleep.<\/p>\n
Obviously, this is not a workable solution, and it only lasts for just a day or so, but it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s the start of Max\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s journey to returning to a healthier state.<\/p>\n
In Liesel\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s world, there was great relief in that time. Outside, things were starting to look shaky. Late in March, a place called L\u00c3\u00bcbeck was hailed with bombs. Next in line would be Cologne, and soon enough, many more German cities, including Munich.<\/p>\n
Yes, the boss was at my shoulder.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Get it done, get it done.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
The bombs were coming\u00e2\u20ac\u201dand so was I.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
GODDAMNIT, WAY TO SHRED MY JOY TO PIECES<\/strong>, DEATH. Ugh.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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\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-302","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":"https:\/\/markreads.net\/reviews\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/302","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/markreads.net\/reviews\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/markreads.net\/reviews\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/markreads.net\/reviews\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/markreads.net\/reviews\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=302"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/markreads.net\/reviews\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/302\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/markreads.net\/reviews\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=302"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/markreads.net\/reviews\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=302"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/markreads.net\/reviews\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=302"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}