When I got back home for the summer, I entered my room to find a new book on my desk. It was called The Book Thief and bore a note from my mom: “I think you’ll like this.”
She wasn’t kidding.
The writing gripped me from the start, and soon I found myself absorbed in the life of a young girl growing up in Nazi Germany. The story, which features a cast of vivid characters and a brilliant narratorial twist, is an often ironic commentary on war, the human condition, and all those other things you were forced to discuss in high school English class.
This is not just another Holocaust novel—believe me, I’ve read plenty of them. Or believe USA Today: “The Book Thief deserves a place on the same shelf with The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank and Elie Wiesel’s Night.” Or listen to the excerpt that the author, Markus Zusak, read on the Diane Rehm Show (which, incidentally, is what prompted my mom to go out and buy the book). In my opinion, all the praise this book has received is more than deserved: in fact, with the exception of two of my favorite series, Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials and (of course) Harry Potter, I don’t think I’ve read anything quite this good in a long, long time.
Seriously, if he were an American, I would expect Zusak to win the 2006 Newberry Medal for this book—but don’t hold your breath. He’s Australian.
