The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak

I knew this book would be good before I even undid the ribbon and unwrapped it. My Aunt Susan gives me a wonderful, interesting book every year, and somehow manages to give me one I've never read. Sometimes they're new, and sometimes quite old, but all books that I clearly should read.

The Book Thief is the story of Liesel, a young German girl who travels to live with foster parents during WWII. What makes this book unique, among the many stories of Nazi Germany, is that the narrator is Death, and in a way, it's Death's story, too. Liesel learns to read in her new home, with the help of her kind foster father, and along the way, does in fact steal several books, beginning with a gravedigger's manual, stolen from the graveside of her younger brother. Her brother's death is Death's first encounter with her, and she captures his attention. He follows her story from there, in the midst of his regular death-duties.

I love books about books, and words, and how comforting words can be in trying times. I've always found it true in my own life; A book can make you happy when you are sad, keep you from dying of boredom or despair. The act of writing can keep you sane in the most difficult circumstances, and I certainly credit the act of writing with helping me be the person I am. Zusak conveys all of this subtly and beautifully.

The format of the story is a bit stylized, and includes the rough drawings and stories of Max, the Jewish man who is hidden in her basement for much of the story. It also contains small bits of exposition, given directly by Death, instead of worked into character dialogue: definitions of words, explanations of moments just to come, character sketches, and warnings of tragedy. The style reminds me of Jonathan Safran Foer, who wrote Everything Is Illuminated and Extremely Loud And Incredibly Close, both lovely books. This technique, of embedding pieces of the story into the book, draws the reader in so well. I was so eager to know what was in the stories Max wrote, and so full of gratitude to be able to read them for myself, instead of having them described by one of the characters or the narrator.