Authored by Liesel Meminger, an orphan girl growing up on Himmel Street. (‘Himmel’ is German for heaven)
Set in Nazi Germany, the scene of unequal suffering is offered by Death’s omniscient voice. If there ever was a book that mastered visual language, it is this, a mastery of imagery and emotions painted from the colours of the sky.
Liesel’s tale is punctuated with little details, facts, memories and moments recorded by Death to create a complete story. Rules of chronology are not followed; the narration interweaves between moments but are threaded together. With what are they threaded together? That is up you to read and discover, but I will recommend that you read this book again, it’s a different experience realising the messages left behind.
Reading requires humility, to trust the author with the hand they guide you into their world. Try for a moment to live as Liesel.
Before I continue, there will be spoilers, as I delve into analysis of passages and my personal connection to them. Stop here, read the book first, maybe.
"You are going to die."
This is our undeniable reality. Only Death remains a certainty in this life. But what does Death mean to you? Is it a source of redemption, a transient process to the afterlife, what meaning does it have for you?
Some of us live forever running away from this question, escaping.
It is only reasonable, Zusak begins with a reminder to the fragile nature of the human soul, one that will meet its end one day. So, what does Death mean to you?
How will you face Death when it finally catches up to you?
Will you leave with a smile?
“A final dirty joke. Another human punchline”
Death is the ultimate absurdity or inevitability, almost as if it is mocking life’s intricacies.
“There seemed a quick shadow again, a final moment of eclipse — the recognition of another soul gone.”
The eclipse is the darkest reflection of the sky that lasts only a few moments, symbolising the fleeting yet profound impact of witnessing Death. Death is seen as an eclipse — a temporary darkening, a poignant reminder of life’s transience and the soul’s departure. As if the world momentarily dims in acknowledgment of a lost soul.
“When she came to write her story, she would wonder exactly where the books and the words started not to just mean something, but everything.”
Words are everything, like a photograph that captures a moment forever, time escapes its linear path. It becomes eternal and transcends death by living in the memories of others. This is one of the motivations of my analytical review, “lest we forget” our past, humanity’s darkest times. Its ironic, is it not, that today it repeats.
Words are hated, words are loved, words can change a world, words can change you. I sincerely hope, that suffering stops, but we only continue to fail.
A definition not found in the dictionary: Not-Leaving: Act of trust and love, often deciphered by children.
“Papa knew what to say… He always knew what to say.”
If you love someone, you want to spend your time with them. It really is a spending shared by both, as they give you their time in return. The fairest trade of all, we exchange time for time and are rewarded with love and belonging. Be in places that you share and can offer a sense of belonging.
The Book’s meaning: 1. The last time she saw her brother. 2. The last time she saw her mother.
“She was the book thief without words. Trust me, though, the words were on their way, and when they arrived, Liesel would hold them in her hands like the clouds, and she would wring them out, like rain.”
This is the start of everything for Liesel, the start of holding on. Holding on her brother, her mother with the book, holding onto Papa with the accordion. Death leaves everything behind, alone we make the passage out of this life. Dying alone is perhaps one of our deepest fears. For this, in life, we hold onto everything, carrying the sentiment and nostalgia, hoping with a feverous heart to relive the past, wanting to experience it all again, to savour the taste, the sounds and the feelings of the moment.
I won’t lie, I myself am an offender of this. Alongside writing book reviews, I take pictures, it is the preservation of a moment for an eternity that draws me towards it (I might publish some later, on my website). “An eternity” like eternity is something finite, something I could carry in my hands. How beautiful.
Sometimes, people change, their feelings and your feelings towards them change, but it reminds you of a moment where you shared time.
“Like most misery, it started with apparent happiness.”
How fleeting is the happiness of this world, soon it becomes a normality.
“They were French, they were Jews, and they were you.”
They are Palestinian, they are Muslim, and they are you.
They are Syrian, they are Muslim, and they are you.
They are Lebanese, they are Muslim, and they are you.
They are Palestinian, they are Christian, and they are you.
They are Syrian, they are Christian, and they are you.
They are Lebanese, they are Christian, and they are you.
A body, a name, a soul, they are you.
“I want them to come for me. Anything’s better than this waiting.”
Anxiety can be a lethal force. Many people are killed first by their thoughts.
“No hours, no minutes till goodbye.”
Are we always waiting? Not realising it is happening now. Will life get better tomorrow, are we living our best life today? Was it yesterday?
“It lay in a blanket of powder and dust, and it was holding its ears. It was a boy.”
Reduced to something forgettable.
“Like the rest of the men in the unit, Hans would need to perfect the art of forgetting.”
Some beautiful phrases:
- “It was one of those moments of perfect tiredness, of having conquered not only the work at hand, but the night who had blocked the way.”
- “Personally, I can only tell you that no-one died from it… There was, of course the matter of forty million people I picked up by the time the whole thing was finished.” – Death
- “the corpse of the collected books”
- “I’ve seen so many young men over the years who think they’re running at other young me. They are not. They’re running at me.” – Death
- ‘Do you still play the accordion?’ Of course the question was really, ‘Will you still help me?’
- ‘When death captures me,’ the boy vowed, ‘he will feel my fist on his face.’ Personally, I quite like that. Such stupid gallantry.
- Christmas Greetings from Max Vandenburg: ‘Often I wish this would be all over, Liesel, but then somehow you do something like walk down the basement steps with a snowman in your hands.’ – definition of not-leaving.
- “She hauled the words in and breathed them out. A voice played the notes inside her. This, it said, is your accordion.” – Liesel reading her books to everyone in the shelter during the bombings.
- “Silence was not quiet or calm, it was not peace.”
- ‘I’m an idiot.’ No, Papa. You’re just a man.’ – Papa makes a stupid generous act that costs Max his safety.
- “He also wanted to prove himself to everyone. Now everyone was in the kitchen.” – Referring to the Nazis coming to take Rudy as he was excelling in sports and school.
- “How have things changed, from fruit stealer to bread giver.” – Rudy and Liesel stole fruits to eat, now they give bread to the Jews that parade the street in chains.
- “She was saying goodbye, and she didn’t even know it.” – Liesel’s last conversation with Rudy before the bombings took his life away.