The Book Thief.

I read a lot. It's a passion, an escape, a treat... I'll sit on the hard bathroom floor, convinced that if I'm uncomfortable, I will not stay up all night to finish the captivating pages of whatever book is in my hands. It never works. I read anyway, unaware that my bum is numb and my ankles, crossed indian style under me are red from their constant pressing in to cold tiles.

As often as I read, it isn't often that a book pulls me in so completely that I want to find someone, anyone, to hear a certain passage read out loud or to receive the completed treasure of words for their own consumption, with an urgent plea... read this. Read this now.

I've just finished The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak. It moved me, it taught me, it increased my perspective and widened my heart. I've read many a book about World War II, about the death and destruction of so many innocent souls, in concentration camps, death camps, bombed streets in invaded cities - helpless victims to the storm and fury of Nazi Germany. This book, though full of the horrors of war, tells the story of a German girl, a girl who attends Hitler youth meetings, and feeds a Jewish man hidden in her basement. It tells the story of a nation that though strangled with evil, still maintains a steady, hopeful pulse of goodness within the hearts and minds of it's citizens. I don't often think of those victims, and their stories.

So read it. I loved it, and hope you will too.