Unreading The Book Thief

There are times when I reach the end of a book, and I wish I could unread it. Something told me from the beginning that I should just put it down and walk away. But I couldn’t. From the moment I read the first few pages, I knew I would devour the entire book. The story pulled me in. No time to savor it. I needed to turn the pages as quickly as I could. I had to know how it ended. But in my heart I knew how it ended—the narrator even gave the ending away quite early in the book. I clung to hope that at the end of the story I would find hope, that the narrator was tricking me. That there would be a glimmer of light to redeem humankind, this book, and the hours of my life I dedicated to it.

It wasn’t there. Just as the bombs obliterated any hope Liesel had, the book left my hope dried up and dusty. My sigh puffed it into a wispy cloud, and it disappeared.

There were tears. I cried as I read it because I knew it wasn’t fiction. Sure, the characters are fictitious, but the story is not. Perhaps the events didn’t play out in Liesel’s life in the way it was portrayed in the book, but the events all happened. In Nazi Germany. To millions of other Liesels  and Max’s. The train wreck that was the end of the book was imminent. It was no surprise. But I couldn’t tear my eyes away. I rushed at it head-on, willing myself to go faster.

While I attempted to live my normal, mundane, comfortable life, I was haunted by the unread pages. The unfinished story. I had to go back to it. It was waiting for me. All other responsibilities became a distraction and a burden. I couldn’t get the story out of my mind. So, I decided to just get it over with. With everyone in bed, and a pile of unfinished work waiting for me, I sat down to devour the rest of the story.

I love the book. I hate the book. The story and its characters will forever haunt me now. I can’t unread it, and I can’t forget it.

The narrator—Death—marvels at the duality of human nature. I do too. Humans are capable of so much evil and so much good. As much as I study Nazi Germany, the Holocaust, and other atrocities, I still cannot fathom how it was allowed to happen. How could hatred grow so thick and hot in so many people? How could fear imprison a nation? But it happened. The ugly side of human nature speaks louder than the beautiful side. It’s easier to give into. It doesn’t require as much work, and it provides fuel in the form of anger and hate.

I don’t want to see myself in the book. I don’t want to see myself in these people’s stories. But it could just as easily have been me. I just got lucky in the decade and country of my birth. I identify with the characters. The people. They are real. We all have basic needs—food, love, comfort, companionship. We are all born with a will to live and overcome—to escape death. I am Liesel, and Rosa, and every other woman in the story.

So now I’m left to pick up the fragments of my reality and piece it back together. I have to sweep up the dusty hope that settled to the floor and shape it into something I can believe in again. I have to leave the Book Thief in the cold basement on Himmel Street and turn my face toward the sun. She will haunt me in the corners of my consciousness, but I have to leave her there and not bring her into the light. She will be there in the quiet moments when thoughts wander. She will try to draw me in, but I have to resist. The guilt pains me. Ignoring her won’t make her disappear. It won’t unwrite the story. It can’t change the reality of what happened. But I have to believe that the ugly side of human nature won’t win. I have to cling to the hope that the beautiful part will. I have to believe that a flattened street of rubble isn’t the end. There are brighter days ahead. If I keep reading the story long enough eventually I will see the reason for all the suffering. Pain will be swallowed up in understanding and love.The last puzzle piece will be in place, and I can step back and see the entire picture. It will be beautiful. It will be made up of suffering and darkness in many places, but when they all come together, they will form something miraculous and hopeful.

Life of Pi—A Book Review

I recently read Life of Pi by Yann Martel.
 
I wanted to like the book. It was a nominee and recipient of various awards, and the movie looks intriguing. The idea of an Indian boy and a Bengal tiger surviving in a life boat on the Pacific Ocean for over 200 days seemed like The Old Man and the Sea on speed. I thought it would have the excitement that Hemingway’s classic lacked.
In the end, I grew to appreciate the book, but I cannot say that I liked it. I will attempt to explain why without giving any spoilers.

The premise is that an author wants to write his next book and is looking for a story to tell. He travels to India, where it is suggested that he contact Pi who is now living in Canada. The adult Pi tells his story to the author, and thus the action takes place in his younger years with some breaks in the story-line that bring us to the current day Pi, the author, and their interactions interspersed throughout.

When Pi’s family sells their zoo in India, they board a Japanese freighter with the remainder of their animals. They intend to move to Canada where they will sell the rest of the wild animals. However, during a storm, the ship sinks, and Pi, a Bengal tiger named Richard Parker, and a handful of animals are the only survivors in a lifeboat. Pi and Richard Parker survive for over 200 days before washing ashore in Mexico.

The beginning of the book was a bit slow for my taste. I kept waiting for him to get on the boat and get to the anticipated action and drama, but several chapters were devoted to describing his family’s zoo and the natures of the animals within. I wondered if I had accidentally picked up a wildlife book that explained animals’ behaviors, instincts and habitats. I lost momentum.

However, once he actually made it on the boat, I understood why the information was important. I still think he could have condensed it a bit to increase the pace of the story.

Here is the very personal reason I did not enjoy reading the book: Once he got on the boat, it was gross. I’m not ruining the story by letting you know that he was on the boat with a Bengal tiger and other animals. Eventually it is just him and the tiger. You can fill in the details with your own imagination. Later, as they were afloat for hundreds of days and trying to avoid starvation and dehydration, other details of his survival tactics were…well…gross.

Now, if you love watching survival shows, or the gruesome details of predator vs. prey documentaries, then that part of the book (half of it) won’t bother you a bit, and you may have a completely different reaction than I did.

Finally, the book was intended to be an examination of faith. I think the reader’s appreciation for this journey through faith vs. religion and finding truth will largely depend on her current faith and belief system. For me, I appreciate his statements on finding faith and religion. I commend the author’s craft, because it is very well-written. However, I found that it fell a little flat. He incorporated some of the major religions in the main character’s life, which I understand and appreciate, but I think he could have spent some time developing this a bit more before Pi got on the boat.

The end of the book threw me for a bit of a loop. I wasn't expecting it, and I love that the author was able to write an ending so surprising that it caused me to go back and re-read certain parts to see if they were cast in a different light with my new knowledge.

I appreciate the way Martel essentially leaves the reader with the freedom to interpret the story as she wants and to choose her reality in a sense. I think that was the statement that he was trying to make as he developed Pi’s character. We choose our reality, and faith is more than religion.

That last statement over-simplifies the concepts of the book, but I don’t want to delve much deeper and spoil the story. This is one of those books that is well-written, and the less you know about the story going into it, the more you can be immersed in the character’s world, and the more you can get out of it at the end.

Again, the book is well-written, and if you are interested at all in reading the book, I highly recommend you read it. The issues I had with it were very personal, and had I not had such an aversion to…well…to grossness, then I probably would have enjoyed it much more!

I would love to hear your reactions to the book!