Tuesday, June 12, 2012

A Review: The Book Thief by Markus Zusak


“How about a kiss, Saumensch?”  The Book Thief is anything but a traditional tale about Nazi Germany. After the FΓΌrer steals her father, mother and brother, Liesel finds ways to steal back.  She is sent to a new home with a mouthy mamma, an accordion father, and a Hitler-boxing Jew.  With partner-in-crime Rudy Steiner, the rowdy neighborhood boy who has a big thing for Liesel, she steals apples, cookies and candy.  But Liesel’s real passion is for stealing books.  At first, words are a challenge and a curiosity to the young, misplaced girl.  They grow to be a part of Leisel each night as her new father reads her stolen books aloud. The words he reads awaken something in Liesel. Tucked into the basements of Molching, Germany, Liesel’s read, spoken and written words become more powerful than air raids and bombs. Markus Zusak explores the unconventional and diverse shapes hope and love take during war and suffering, where “filthy pig” is a term of endearment and a young boy paints himself black like his track star hero, Jesse Owens.  

            Just as death loomed over Nazi Germany during WWII, Death takes center stage in The Book Thief.  In fact, it is through death’s eyes that we learn about Liesel, her foster family and her affinity for words.  Death’s voice is subtle enough to keep the reader focused on the story rather than the formal elements, and unique enough to captivate the reader’s attention.  It is also through death’s eyes that Zusak creates astounding imagery like tomato soup skies and hair the color of lemons. Zusak’s imagery is distinctively mesmerizing.  As if the story weren’t compelling enough, the novel’s imagery continually shocks, enthralls and enchants the reader. At the heart of this haunting yet inspirational novel is the horror of a nation that decided it was alright to parade starved, skeletal Jews through cities, to burn children in front of their mothers, and to degrade and torture men, women and children in the most vile of ways.

            The Book Thief will speak to high-schoolers and adults alike. Zusak’s treatment of the novel’s heavier themes is neither graphic nor sheltered. Its language and characters will compel any reader to carefully reflect upon the human condition during the Holocaust. Through Liesel Meminger, her passion for words, and her understated hope, any reader will give heartfelt consideration to the strength of the individual and quiet heroism.






Running, Zombies and The Spirit.

I ran my first half marathon on Saturday. It was the Utah Valley Half Marathon. I've been training for a month, probably more out of fear than intense personal motivation. Race day was a different experience than I expected it to be. Yes, it was exciting and nerve-racking and daunting.  But, it was also very spiritual, which I wasn't really expecting.  I've always felt running and the outdoors are spiritual in nature, but I found myself moved in other ways on race day.

I woke up at 3:15 a.m. to catch the shuttle that heads up to the canyon. I had no idea this was part of the deal until after signing up or I may have thought twice. The race started at 6 a.m. They dropped us off just below Sundance. It was pitch black out and very Twilight Zoney. There were bonfires for keeping warm. Emily got it spot on when she said it looked like there had been a zombie apocalypse. I was feeling pretty amped and ready to run from the zombies for dear life. Too many episodes of The Walking Dead in our basement in DC... Maybe that's why I finished faster than I expected??



When I refer to feeling the spirit, I mean the third member of the Godhead through which our Heavenly Father guides, comforts and warns us on a day-to-day basis.  For anyone who doesn't know, I am Mormon (a.k.a. a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints). Usually when I run, especially outdoors, the way I feel the spirit is in quiet surges of peace and strength. It's not exactly a rush of endorphins, though I love those. The spirit makes me want to smile while I run... if I was my own bystander, I'd think I was crazy. BUT, race day was different. I was moved by the humanity of the whole experience.

For example, I saw this: (yes, they're holding hands, about to finish a marathon, and in their 60's)


And this: (The girl in purple was seriously struggling, so yellow girl grabbed her arm and pulled her along. Another girl came up and put her arm behind her back. They stayed like that until the end of the race. I don't even think they knew each other.)


And something a lot like this: (I didn't snap a pic but at the end of the race, there was a dad whose 5 yr. old daughter and 3 yr. old son came and held his hand and ran w/ him until the end. Yes, I was dreaming about my future life....)


I'll willingly admit that I came dangerously close to shedding tears multiple times on this race (by dangerously close, I mean I did). And it wasn't even because my legs and lungs were screaming at me! It happened first at the beginning of the race when we all jolted past the start line and began mile one. I was really, sincerely moved by seeing so many people in so many different sizes and shapes, with so many different stories, backgrounds and personalities, all doing something pretty tough because they want to. And all headed in the same direction. I'll let you come up with your own analogy. But I have to say, it was a really powerful and inspiring sight.

The tears urge came again at the end of the race after I'd finished when I stood by and watched people finish. I think I'll make this a new hobby. If you're ever bored on a Saturday afternoon, go find a race and watch the finishers cross the line. I don't know exactly how to explain why this was so powerful to me. I think it was seeing people accomplish something pretty hard that they'd really worked for. It was also seeing human connection.  Married couples finishing hand-in-hand. Strangers helping each other to the finish line. Father's being pulled by their children to the finish line with grins the size of watermelon slices painted on their faces.

The race itself was a rush. Difficult but not as bad as I expected. I was well prepared (from being scared out of my mind). If you've never tried it, running goo totally helps. I had three on the run and every time I felt like Mario POST mushroom consumption. I ran the race at a 9:14 pace finishing in 2:00:50, which I feel pretty good about for my first race. I ranked 52nd of the 276 gals in my age group. 

Even or especially if you're not a runner, I highly recommend this experience. I'm running another one next weekend :)