A review by reynastillo
The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

5.0

Well, I read it again.

7 years since reading it for the first time, The Book Thief remains my favorite book. An impossibly high honor for a bibliophile, I know, but this book does it for me.

Without fail, I cry every time. In fact, I’m writing this post a Book-Thief-binge & crying session. What better way to consume this book?

The end always gets me, even after practically being able to quote the paragraphs. That’s just how strong Zusak’s writing is. Oh, the writing. Zusak creates images with a specificity I can only dream of. His verbal prowess is something I hope to even graze someday.

I can’t stand books with long winded descriptions and world building, but this one enraptures me. The narrator, Death, certainly has a huge part to play in that. The way the text is broken up into his notes and asides keeps me interested.

I always claim to love words, and I truly think this love stemmed from The Book Thief. Zusak makes me acutely aware of the power words have, and how I can wield them better. I can’t thank him enough for that gift.

This book will never fail to move me. I find new details every time I read. This time next year, I’ll be reading it again.