The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

I wrote this in my journal a few days ago after finishing The Book Thief, and thought I would post it on here. It will be rather raw and not at all written like my usual blog post, but I will post it anyway just as it is in my journal.

December 2, 2009 10:03 P.M.
I just finished The Book Thief. It is such a gloriously, truly sad story, but at the same time it is hopeful and joyous. This must be because it is real - and by real, I do not mean that I have visited Liesel Meminger in Sydney or that she lived and breathed, but that the book is just as life is. It is a complete approximation of reality. Nothing in The Book Thief felt false to me, as though the author was lying. I have read books like this, and no matter how fun and exciting they are, the stories don't sink in. They float on the surface because they don't have what it takes to go farther.

Of course, it is as with anything - not everyone would "enjoy" this book. (I put enjoy in quotation marks because while it is not the word I mean, it is the best one I can come up with at this point in time.) There are many people who would say that The Book Thief is "too morbid" because it is narrated by Death, and these people would very likely stop reading and return the book to their library without getting halfway through.

Then there are those for whom The Book Thief is entirely too close to home. They do not need to be told this story; life has told it to them already. These people are like the German chef of the Bistro in Mammoth Springs who hates fireworks because they sound like bombs. Yes, these people probably know Liesel already, if not also Hans, Rosa, Max, Rudy, and the mayor's wife.

I wonder if this book would have been so impactful for me had I read it when it came out. Before I went to Germany and Poland and visited Auschwitz and Birkenau with the empty fields where birds still mute themselves. On the other hand, I had more recently experienced loss in 2005. But still I do not think it would have been the same. At any rate, I am sure I will read The Book Thief again and again.

The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis

It's been a little over a weeks since I read The Screwtape Letters, so this probably won't be the best review ever (which is not to say that it necessarily would be otherwise). However, I would like to give a very brief summary. I've been wanting to read The Screwtape Letters for quite some time, but never remembered when I was at the library or bookstore. Fortunately, I finally remembered last time I was at the library, and so the book was added to my ten-high pile, and eventually was read.

If you haven't heard of this book already, The Screwtape Letters is a fictional book of letters from senior demon Screwtape to his nephew, Wormwood, who is just begininng his career as a tempter for Satan. Throughout the series of letters, Wormwood is anxious to get his Patient to commit a deplorably evil sin that will damn him to hell; however, Screwtape assures his nephew that "the safest path to hell is the gradual one." The Screwtape Letters is a commentary on a wide range of social and moral issues, from love, war, pride, and gluttony. And while the book wasn't one of my favorites--I can understand why C.S. Lewis said it was "not fun" to write--I do appreciate the theological views behind the letters. All in all, a fairly good read, but nothing I was tempted to shout from the rooftops about.

Carpe Diem by Autumn Cornwell

The sixteen-year-old main character of Carpe Diem, named Vassar Spore after the prestigious women's college, has big goals. As she says, "I've got my entire life planned out for the next ten years--including my Ph.D. and Pulitzer Prize." Uh, woah. Then, the grandmother she's never seen somehow blackmails her parents into shipping Vassar off to backpack through Southeast Asia--Malaysia, Cambodia, and Laos, to be exact--with said grandmother. Suddenly, it looks like the summer won't include AP and AAP classes anymore.

When she gets to Malaysia, the first country on the very, very (and to Vassar, uncomfortably) loose agenda, she discovers that her grandmother, or Grandma Gerd, is nothing like her parents. Grandma Gerd is an artist, collects "found art" (Vassar's word for it is trash) for her collages, wears a skirt made out of a rice bag, and believes firmly in LIMming, or living in the moment. This last habit is anything but what Vassar has been raised to do, but Grandma Gerd is determined to have her LIM all the way around Southeast Asia. No plans, and certainly not the ten suitcases Vassar brought with her. Over the course of her stay, Vassar encounters: lots of mosquitos, a Southeast Asian cowboy boyfriend, a new name, venomous caterpillars, ancient relics, an amputee, 100% humidity, and the secret her parents were blackmailed with (among other things, of course).

Carpe Diem was good, but not as good as I expected it to be. (The last part was probably more my own fault than the book's.) After the first couple of chapters, I was aghast at what Vassar's parents expected of her, and at the fact that she seemed to think nothing of it. Grandma Gerd was an absolute riot, and definitely my favorite part about the book. At first, she seems kind of crazy, but she levels out well. In the end, though there were things I didn't like, I would definitely recommend Carpe Diem.

The Little Bookroom by Eleanor Farjeon

This will be a mini-review, as I haven't got much time, but believe me when I tell you that this book deserves a much better review than I give it.

The Little Bookroom is a book of short stories for children first published in 1955. I stumbled upon it at my local library (where I stumble upon most of the books I read), and am ever so glad I did. Some of the stories are fantastical, others are not; some of the stories are only a few pages, others are longer and have miniature chapters. But each and every one of them, no matter the subject or length, is absolutely precious and magical and wonderful and you should go read the book right now. I'm not sure if it's still in print--*Googles it*--yeah, it's still in print, and it happens to have won the very first Hans Christian Andersen Award and the Carnegie Medal, to boot. So you don't have to take my word for it.

A Footnote: Apparently, Eleanor Farjeon turned down yet another honor, Dame of the British Empire, saying she "did not wish to become different from the milkman".

Graceling by Kristin Cashore

Imagine a world where there are people with unnatural talents. Talents that enable them to read minds, cook exceptionally well, or even climb trees better than any normal person. For Katsa, this is her world, and she is Graced with killing, a skill she does not relish and that has turned her into the pawn of King Randa, who sends her out to injure or kill whomever he wishes.

Despite her seeming brutality, Katsa has founded the Council, a group devoted to helping protect citizens of the kingdoms from the anger and/or carelessness of their oft hot-tempered kings. It is on a mission of the Council that Katsa first meets him, the strange hooded man in the courtyard who could be extremely dangerous to her, yet whom she only knocks out. Later, they become friends, and she discovers that he is Graced, as well.

However, something is afoot in the kingdoms--the Council has not been able to ascertain who was behind the kidnapping of their latest rescue, the Lienid king. As intelligence is gathered, it becomes clear that the only possible culprit is Monsea. The only problem is, there are widespread tales of the Monsean king's kindness to both people and animals, and it is this mystery that will lead Katsa into the most dangerous situation she has ever faced: one in which her Grace will not help her.

On normal standards, Graceling is a terrific, fast-paced, un-put-down-able read. Considering that it is a debut novel, Graceling is stunning. Kristin Cashore manages to show Katsa as both threatening and likeable; cold, yet friendly. King Randa is absolutely despicable, as he should be, and Po is as well-faceted a character as Katsa--which is saying something. The characters in Graceling could very well be real people for all the life Cashore breathes into them.

As for the story itself, I feel that it is a very real portrait of how people behave. Though the plot is well-drawn and captivating, this was, for me, a character's novel, and I look forward to meeting more of Cashore's creations in the future.

Just Listen by Sarah Dessen

After the many instances of my picking up a copy of a Sarah Dessen book while browsing the shelves of a bookstore or library, I finally read one. Just Listen is about the youngest sister of three, Annabel, who can't seem to find her way in the world after her fairly (well, very) nasty "best friend" Sophie ditches her and she falls into aloneness. Then she meets Owen, a music-obsessed, dark-haired boy she eats lunch in close proximity to. Through the course of the book, Annabel slowly--very slowly--deals with what happened to her the night her so-called friendship with Sophie fell apart.

Just Listen was, for me, one of those books I enjoy while reading, then kind of forget. The book reminds me a bit of Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson (which is a bit ironic--Just Listen and Speak), though it's not nearly as good. However, the book accomplishes what I felt it set out to do: it accurately depicts the interrelationships of a slightly dysfunctional family, examined different meanings of teenage friendship, and dealt with the value and difficulty of telling the truth.

All in all, Just Listen did not, as my mother says, "make my socks roll up and down"; but it tole its story well, and in the end, that's what matters most.

A Wordle of My Posts Here So Far