Day 1: Books Are Worth Stealing

I'd decided to participate in Mibba's Blog Challenge. This is my first time and I'm super excited. For day one, the challenge is very simple: Your favorite book (a picture would be great) and 3-5 interesting things that happened to you while reading the book. I immediately thought of three books, but one stood out the most.

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

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Liesel and death taught me many things. One, nice has nothing to do with death. Two, books are worth the risk; or at least for Liesel they were. Taking place during WWII, Liesel was a foster child who was taken into the hands of Rosa and Hans Hubermann. Hans was an accordionist and a painter by trade. Rosa? Rosa was hard love with a sharp tongue to go along with it. They were as happy as one could be during a world war. Living in Munich, they'd have to face various trails. From nightmares to graveyard handbooks to Rudy Steiner to the mysterious jew.

If there is anything this book isn't - a light read. This book grabbed my heart, molded it, and smashed it. I remember that I was enthralled at first with the opening words of this book:

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I am in truthfulness attempting to be cheerful about this whole topic, though most people find themselves hindered in believing me, no matter my protestations. Please, trust me. I most definitely can be cheerful. I can be amiable. Agreeable. Affable. And that's only the A's. Just don't ask me to be nice. Nice has nothing to do with me.


Death narrates the life of the book thief: Liesel Meminger. This was the first time I've ever read something through the eyes of death. And if there's anything death does not lack is a heart. I consider myself a hard reader to break. I breeze through sad stories without shedding a tear, but not with this book. This book shattered me.

The fascinating thing about this book is that you're not only drawn to Liesel, no. You're drawn to every character in it. Every character has a quirk, a history, and sometimes, a morbid ending. For me, I fell in love with Hans Hubermann. It wasn't romantic, it wasn't fast and wild, it wasn't platonic. No. For me Hans was the father I never had. But there were others, others like Rudy Steiner. Rudy Steiner wanted to be Jesse Owens. Aryan perfect Rudy Steiner wanted to be black. But back in Nazi oriented Germany? Well, you might as well want to be suicide.

I remember that when I neared the ending of this book, I was sobbing and wailing so hard; I had to stop reading. I stopped reading, stood up, and decided that life was too cruel. They were not real; of course not. They're fictional characters. But not even fictional characters deserved a story like that. Thinking back, I believe I cried a good hour and then fell asleep crying. It was one of the few times I ever broke down over a story, the first time being Black Beauty.

But that's nothing as to how this book marked me. Sure, I cried over it as if it were my own coffin. No, that's nothing.

The Book Thief handed me what I consider to be one of my most personal interests. WWII. After I read this book, I started to investigate on the Holocaust and Nazi Germany and all of the in-betweens. What was once a mild interest suddenly turned into a near-obsession. All of this lead me to read even more mesmerizing books that take place during one of history's most inhumane eras. This book took my hand and walked me into war literature. I couldn't -still can't- get enough books that dare venture into this dangerous world. And after downing so many books, I myself became a short-story author that suddenly had the courage to write about it as well.

This book changed something inside of me. As I read, my mind could not process the fact that "Chan, this happened decades ago." Because my heart ached as if it were happening just outside my doorstep. The injustice, the pain, the everything. Just thinking about it this moment makes me incredibly sad.

Not only did it introduce me to an interest, it also shaped me as an author. Markus helped me find my voice as an author. I can't explain how, but I felt as his writing style spoke more to me than what he wrote. I found his composition more beautiful than the words. Sometimes I just read passages of this book to rekindle the inspiration he once sparked inside of me.

Ever since finishing reading The Book Thief, I've never had the heart to read it all over again. I started to reread it again, but for reasons I can't describe, I didn't have the heart to go through with it again. It's silly, but now that I know what's going to happen, it hurts all the more. It's like watching a kid play happily in the park and knowing he's going to die in a month.

In short, three interesting things happened to me when I read this book:
1. I discovered that maybe my heart isn't made of ice.
2. I found a topic that would define me and in the future inspire me.
3. I found my writing voice.

If you want emotional turmoil and head-turning perspectives. You should read The Book Thief. But prepare yourself. Because I made the dire mistake of not doing so. I'm actually nearing tears here just by remembering. ;A; Well, this is all I have to say regarding The Book Thief. And even then, all of the above was just not enough. I hope I somehow convinced you to read this book, and if you have, I'm glad.

With this said, I leave you with a little bit of Zusak's wisdom:

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November 1st, 2012 at 11:35pm