The Book Thief

First the colors.
Then the humans.
That's usually how I see things.
Or at least, how I try.

I haven't blogged about this book yet, probably because of my own sense of inadequacy in expressing myself.

I bought The Book Thief by Markus Zusak months ago, and it sat in a pile of books for a long time. I started reading it, but it took me a long time to really dig in. I'm not sure why, but I suspect that I knew it was going to make me think...a thing which I have been avoiding a lot lately.

From the start, I could tell this book was special. With Death as the narrator, I expected either silly, or depressing. This book is dark, don't get me wrong, but not teenager, "I'm so emo" dark. Instead, it is meaningful. As Death describes the brief history of a young girl in WWII Germany, we catch a glimpse of humanity from a slightly different angle.

I am not a profound thinker, and am an even less profound writer, so let me just say that this book affected me. It is the first book that has made me sob--not those little tears that leak out when you read something touching, but full-body sobs. It touched some areas in my heart that fiction usually doesn't reach.

The story is amazing, the perspective is unique (and I don't use that word lightly), the observations are profound, and the descriptions are ... hard to describe (dare I use "unique" again?).

Read this book...