Bingo: Black
I feel a little guilty saying this, but I was singularly unmoved by Markus Zusak’s The Book Thief. I feel guilty because the book was trying so hard, and so obviously, to strike the reader’s heart. But no matter what happened, what threats were faced, what deaths were shown, I could not squeeze out an ounce of caring.
The book’s narrator is death. His attention is captured by a young girl named Leisel, who he calls the book thief for her irresistible urge to steal books and her love of words. Her story starts with her brother dying and her being taken away from her mother to go to a foster home. There, she finds kind Hans and his grumpy wife Rosa, who hides a heart of gold.
Leisel and her foster parents live in Nazi Germany. The book spans the time before and during the war (and briefly long after). Due to a promise Hans made to his now-dead friend during World War I, he and Rosa harbor the friend’s Jewish son, who lives in the family’s basement. Almost immediately Max, in his twenties, bonds with Leisel.
The story follows Leisel, as told by death, as she endures hardship and joy, love and anger. Throughout, books and words and reading are a constant presence. I’ll leave it at that to prevent spoilers.
The style of writing is simple and fast moving. The imagery is incoherent, as are the similes and efforts to be poetic. There is a strange lack of tension, given the stakes and setting. It wasn’t a hard read; it moves at a fast clip, but except for death, I found the characters fairly shallow. Which was hard to understand as many words and descriptions are devoted to the characters. Emotions felt forced and clumsy. There are some really dark parts where I felt a little twinge of connection, but overall I didn’t care for the book. I am somewhat astonished that it has almost three million ratings on Good Reads. There are obviously a lot of readers out there that made this book so popular, but it wasn’t for me.