The Book Thief - Markus Zusak

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!

Honestly, I have no words to express the way this book made me feel. The last time emotions rolled out of my eyes directly from the heart, chilling the soul and numbness rattling the mind happened exactly 8 years back. When Dobby closed his glassy orb like eyes, a deafening silence surrounded me. It was like an end; like time froze forever. The book thief almost gave the same chills. Its bewildering how a simple read can generate so many tender emotions. You feel fulfilled then empty: in a cycle; like the circular heart of death.

Liesel Meminger, a nine year old girl travels with her mother and brother in a train to Mulching, Munich. On the way she encounters different hues of death. Her brother's soul is lost. In the process of grievence, she steals her first book; a glimpse of hope. She meets her foster parents Hans and Rosa Hubermann: the best kind of people god has ever created. Despite the shadow of war and pertaining death, childhood is celebrated; friends are made. Rudy, her best friend helps her in unknown ways to get through the tough times. 

Hans Hubermann teaches Liesel how to read and slowly she discovers the power of words. Books are stolen and read in an attempt to find solace. In the midst of world war II, problems come and go but the major thorn came with Max Vandenburg; a Jew. With time Liesel and Max develops a beautiful bond. The war proceeds, death breaths through out Germany; the color of blood red and dusky grey. Lives are lost. Time plays different cards and the expected but intolerable death toll begins. Liesel loves words and hates them; slowly she begins to accept the irrefutable power of words and pour it to express her trepidation.

A beautiful beautiful read. Tender, caring, engrossing, mesmerizing, full of heart and soul. Its amazing how death can narrate life with such panache. Markus Zusak is "The Master Of The Words". The colors, the smells, the shapes... everything was written with compassion and simplicity. There was no imminent secret or mystery to hold you down but still the pages flow like fluid through the fingers, the mind absorbing every word, the heart filling the missing pieces. 

I would proudly keep this book in my best first five list. Something that I would hold close to my heart and repeat time and again. 

My favorite lines that i search through the pages frequently:

• A snowball in the face is surely the perfect beginning to a lasting friendship.
• The only thing worse than a boy who hates you: a boy that loves you.
• I have hated words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right.
• Like most misery, it started with apparent happiness.
• Even death has a heart.
• I am haunted by humans.
• Humans, if nothing else, have the good sense to die.
• A single hour can consist of thousands of different colors.Waxy yellows, cloud-spot blues. Murky darkness.
• I guess humans like to watch a little destruction. Sand castles, houses of cards, that’s where they begin. Their great skill is their capacity to escalate.
• The human heart is a line, whereas my own is a circle, and I have the endless ability to be in the right place at the right time. The consequence of this is that I’m always finding humans at their best and worst. I see their ugly and their beauty, and I wonder how the same thing can be both.
• Imagine smiling after a slap in the face. Then think of doing it twenty-four hours a day.
• I wanted to tell the book thief many things, about beauty and brutality. But what could I tell her about those things that she didn't already know? I wanted to explain that I am constantly overestimating and underestimating the human race-that rarely do I ever simply estimate it. I wanted to ask her how the same thing could be so ugly and so glorious, and its words and stories so damning and brilliant.
• A small fact: You are going to die....does this worry you?
• My heart is so tired.
• So much good, so much evil. Just add water.
• The last time I saw her was red. The sky was like soup, boiling and stirring. In some places it was burned. There were black crumbs and pepper, streaked across the redness.
• One was a book thief. The other stole the sky.
• One opportunity leads directly to another, just as risk leads to more risk, life to more life, and death to more death.
• It was a Monday and they walked on a tightrope to the sun.
• I witness the ones that are left behind, crumbled among the jigsaw puzzles of realization, despair, and surprise. They have punctured hearts. They have beaten lungs.
• There was a chaos of goodbye.

The list is never gonna end...

Happy reading!!!