The Book Thief has been reviewed many times over. I bet everything that could be said about it, already has been. But... as a Jew, reading this book, I feel obligated to add in my two cents. So bear with me. This is going to be a very personal review. In fact, it's going to speak largely about things surrounding the book instead of the book itself.
Originally, I never intended to read the Book Thief.
As a general rule, I don't read Holocaust based novels. In Israel, we study the Holocaust extensively (in relations to Jews mostly, for obvious reasons) from the first grade to the twelfth. We annually mention and mourn the 6 million lost on a special day. We have school trips to the Holocaust Museum. We do papers and projects on the subject every year. We have lectures with survivors.
And, honestly, every damn holocaust book I read brings me to a sobbing mess, and I don't enjoy that.
I always tell my grandma, who made it her mission to read as many of those testimonies as possible, that one day, I'll probably start seeking those stories, but right now, I am too overcome by the darkness that engulfs me when I read of it.
So, again, I wasn't planning on reading this in the near future. But then...
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