I’m generally not a reader of fiction. There’s only so much time, and I prefer true stories. (I know, I know. There’s often more truth in fiction than nonfiction.) Nor do I typically read young-adult books, although I did read some of The Hunger Games and dabbled with the Harry Potter series.
I have my daughter to thank. She gave me The Book Thief for Christmas, otherwise I seriously doubt that I would have noticed it. The author’s approach to the narrator was unique and brilliant.
Here’s a brief description from the publisher:
It is 1939. Nazi Germany. The country is holding its breath. Death has never been busier, and will become busier still.
Liesel Meminger is a foster girl living outside of Munich, who scratches out a meager existence for herself by stealing when she encounters something she can’t resist–books. With the help of her accordion-playing foster father, she learns to read and shares her stolen books with her neighbors during bombing raids as well as with the Jewish man hidden in her basement.
I can tell you that any book with a 4.37 average rating (from a total of 464,776 ratings) on Goodreads is a very solid read. The Goodreads members are a discriminating bunch.
Now I’m back in my comfort zone. I’m reading The Bully Pulpit by Doris Kearns Goodwin. A part of me, though, still wants to be reading The Book Thief. It was that good.