It’s just a small story really, about among other things: a girl, some words, an accordionist, some fanatical Nationalist, a Jewish fist-fighter and an alluring bout of thievery. . .
Set during the most stygian stain of German history- Markus Zusak etches the meager existence of Liesel ( a fostered child) and initiates readers’ unilateral adulation for her. Her accordion playing, pro-Semitism preaching foster father nurtured her from illiteracy to a highly intellectual girl fueled by books- whether that meant stealing from the Nazis book burning ceremonies.

Death, the narrator stands alone in a frozen almost deceased forest; the blood smears inevitable- the mark of war obvious. It's a very thought conjuring image which optimizes the desolation of an anti-Semitic, near spineless society. The cruel timeline of Holocaust is in the veins of the pages- and it stems from the heart and bleeds out pain in the horror of Dachau.

The deeply ambitious writing style redefines the boundaries for novelists for many years to come-the results are tantalizingly intense. The concept of 1st and 3rd person is masterfully replaced by the “dead person”. It is death himself who offers his remorseless slant on life compressed by Hitler’s dark, twisted and ultimately deplorable vision.

Secondly, you read the plot and tilt your head slightly- the storyline seems intriguing but it is the audacity which defines this book as a modern classic and not a modern phenomenon. The content is weighty but is a piece of impeccable clarity which gives a more vivid depiction of Jews living in the early 1940s than any textbook could.

However, this book can be placed in the forefront of book shops and libraries for years to come because of the subtle jests and irony which the book oozes. Zusak mocks the Nazis in an abundance of instances but the highlight is one chapter. Rudy- the fist-fighter assisted Liesel in the gathering of food, wealth and books. Rudy’s volubility is heart-warming and when the thieving of apples became overly dangerous- Rudy went covert; His face glazed in coal dust, his American accent in place. He vaulted the wall and the perplexed and agitated on looker watched Rudy steal fruit. When asked what he was doing, Rudy responded by imitating Jesse Owens. This chapter is particularly potent due to the earlier Olympics where the black runner contradicted Aryan supremacy which lived in Germany.

This book is more than something you read- it is something you experience; something you live with for the duration of The Book Thief. Impulsive reading- occasionally tough going but the wealth of originality makes this a masterpiece which rivals any artwork of Picasso.