The Book Thief by Markus Zusak is a complex story taking place in Nazi Germany. Unlike most literary pieces, this book is told from the perspective of Death. That's why, for the first category I chose to rewrite one of the chapters of the book from the perspective of the opposite of that: Life. In the second category, I chose to write diary entries of Liesel because it shows her love for words and wanting to keep writing them. The last category is a a recipe for the pea soup that Rosa Hubermann made multiple times throughout the book. It shows that even though times were hard, she kept trying to provide for her family adequately. All these pieces fit together to show the hard times that Liesel had to overcome and the horror of the war.
Point of View: Life
Before you ask, I don't hate Death. I don't love Death either. How could I? We have both come to accept that this is just the cycle of humans. I give them their first breath, and watch him as he takes their last. It was I who put that first bubble of breath inside Liesel Meminger's lungs when she came into the world, I watched as she took her first steps, looked on as she played with her brother, and as she tried to shake him back to life. I met Death on the train that day, on my way to a panicking woman in the back, and we said a somber hello and kept moving. I kept watching over Liesel, but little did I know, he was too.
I had to keep moving of course, all over the world, giving life to the future, but I kept her in the back of my mind. She was fortunate enough not to run into Death for a while. Only the threat of it once, with Max. She never actually felt Death for herself until that one fateful day. Which brings us to what I am reminiscing now, the second time Liesel saw him with her own eyes. October 7, 1943. I believe she was in her shallow basement, working on that little book that Death always kept with him. I could feel what was coming, and felt like I should pay Rosa and Hans a visit. For Liesel.
I remember them. Especially that Hans Hubermann. He was one of those rare children that didn't cry or scream when I gave him life. Even being alive for only a minute, he had a calm and quiet spirit that everyone would come to love. Rosa Hubermann was a completely different story. I almost regretted breathing myself into her lungs, but I made life stay in her anyway, and almost burst an eardrum because of it. Now seeing them peacefully lying there, I almost wanted to plead with Death. Beg him to let them live. But I have no power over him in that aspect. When it is their time to go, he takes them.
I moved on down the street, mourning over the lives I had created and would soon see destroyed. Death never suspected that I visited. He never guessed that I wanted to sit down and sob for hours after I saw all of the lives I made be ripped to shreds. Sure, I've seen many deaths. But these were the hardest. By the middle of the night I had reached Rudy. That's when I heard the bombs down the street, and felt the souls slipping from my grasp. When Death walked through the front door of Rudy Steiner's house, I held on. I couldn't bear to see Rudy go just yet. In those few last seconds before Death tugged him gently away from me, I remembered.
I remembered everything Rudy Steiner had ever done in his too-short life. From the very first day his older siblings had crowded around the bed where he lay with his mother, to Jessie Owens. Him playing soccer on the street, him watching the dominoes fall down after he spent so long building them up, and him with Liesel. It's amazing how much of his life was spent with Liesel. All this and more, I remembered. I always do remember everything. It is indeed a blessing and a curse.
Long after the rumble of planes had gone, I still sat there by Rudy's bed, thinking. I was thinking how much I hate people dying. Not Death, but dying. I hate seeing the wonderful souls I created ripped from their bodies. The pain is too much. It kills me.
Category B: Diary Entries
February, 1950
Today is my birthday! Max came by earlier and gave me the best present I could ever imagine. A whole set of books that I had never read before! I was so thrilled, and I am almost halfway through with the first one. I remember, though, in 1941, for my twelfth birthday, when Papa gave me The Mud Men and Max gave me The Standover Man. I have read both of them every year on my birthday as a sort of bittersweet celebration with myself and my memories. All day today I have been so happy just to be alive. After the war, now I understand what a blessing it is just to take another breath each day. I realize now that some people will stop breathing and pass on, and that is becoming easier for me to deal with. I must go now, my friends are calling me to go see the cake they made. I am truly blessed.
April 20, 1950 (Hitler's Birthday)
Ten years ago today I stole my second book ever, The Shoulder Shrug. My, how time flies. It seems a whole lifetime ago. The hollowness in everyone's heart, mine especially, is noticed on this day. I'm surprised that when I tripped and hit my shoulder on the door frame this morning, there was no echo inside my skin, no clang emitted from my empty shell. There's no way to describe the terror I feel every night when I wake up from my new nightmare and there is no Papa to comfort me. I only see him, cold and broken, in my dreams.
Today has been an unusual day. It always is. People are unusual, too. Most Germans, myself included, have accepted, celebrated even, Hitler's death. But there are some stubborn people who refuse to believe their leader is gone. They still hang flags and dance on this day, as if doing so could bring him back to life. If Rudy were here, I bet he would go up to them and taunt, "He's dead, you know! The stupid Führer is DEAD! Killed himself, too! Is that really something to celebrate?" And then I would tell him to shut up before we both got shot, and he would smile with that crazy grin, and I would kiss him.
It's strange, the pain of losing Mama and Papa doesn't hurt as much as the loss of my dear Rudy.
I really did love him.
Category C: Recipe
Rosa Hubermann's Easy Pea Soup
Serves 20
1 teaspoon Hope
10 tablespoons butter
5 finely chopped onions
10 cups water
15 cups green peas
Salt and pepper to taste
DIRECTIONS:
1) Melt the butter in the biggest saucepan you have, toss in onions. Pour in water and peas, season to taste with salt or pepper. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low and simmer until peas are tender
2) Mash peas until they look like they've been pureed, then dump them back in the saucepan and reheat. And a tablespoon of Hope (more if needed) and stir.
