Review of The Book Thief by Marcus Zusak

Two words.... a MUST READ! With out a doubt some of the best writing I have ever come across. This book will most definitely be a classic. Taught in schools. Used as a model in creative writing classes. It is simply incredible.

The story is fairly simple. Set in Nazi Germany, kind of a typical World War II story about a girl who falls in love with books and how that love effects the lives of others during this reign of terror in Germany. The story is good, but not epic. What makes this book what it is... what will make it a classic masterpiece ... is the writing. The writing makes the story come alive. Makes you feel the story instead of merely reading it. Zusak is by far my new favorite author. He could write about the life of a potato and make it interesting. He sees the world through the eyes of a child using words as only children do. For example he uses the five senses in mixed up ways to describe something.... tasting music, staring at spoken words, touching fear, etc. You read some of the sentences in this book and think... there isn't possibly a better way to describe that.

Marcus Zusak is truly a master of words. He is a literary artist. The Michelangelo of the written world. A talent that will not ever be forgotten.

Here are a few samples of his phenomenal writing from The Book Thief: (There are so many more quotes I would like to add but will have to wait till I read it again... which will just be one in many during my life.)

"... and the music would look Liesel in the face."

"When she looked up the sky was crouching."

"The sky was dripping. Like a tap that a child has tried its hardest to turn off but hasn't quite managed.

"... the words were on their way, and when they arrived, Liesel would hold them in her hands like the clouds, and she would wring them out like rain."

"The sky was like soup, boiling and stirring. In some places it was burned. There were black crumbs and pepper, streaked across the redness."

"As the book quivred in her lap, the secret sat in her mouth. It made itself comfortable. It crossed it's legs."

"Her cold hands felt for her sleeves and a sentence dropped from her mouth. "He's not dead yet." The words landed on the table and positioned themselves in the middle. All three people looked at them."

"Grimy tears were loosened from children's eyes, and the smell of night breath, underarm sweat, and overworn clothes was stirred and stewed in what was now a cauldron swimming with humans."

"She didn't dare look up, but she could feel their frightened eyes hanging on to her as she hauled the words in and breathed them out. A voice played the notes inside her. This, it said, is your accordion."

"The book thief saw only the mechanics of the words - their bodies stranded on the paper, beaten down for her to walk on."