My Magical Place: The Book Thief Review

One of The Book Thief’s promotional campaigns was a series of images and teasers posted on their Facebook page related to words and what they mean. One of the themes throughout the story is words and what they mean to people; how beautiful words are and how ugly they are. Words are more powerful weapons than guns and bombs after all.

One of the words that were used on the Facebook campaign is wonder:  {won·der} n. surprise mingled with admiration, caused by something beautiful, unexpected, or inexplicable.

This is the reaction one gets from watching this film. The Book Thief will make you smile, cry, laugh and then leave your heart broken with its haunting beauty. As a high ranking member of the Book Snob Society I can find reasons why the film adaptation of this story does not do it justice but those reasons are ultimately shallow because this adaptation is really good and captures the important themes of the book.

The story is narrated by Death (Roger Allam) who is surprisingly pleasant given the nature of his job, which he seems to dislike. Set in Nazi Germany from April 1938 the plot follows the life of Liesel Meminger (Sophie Nélisse) as she adjusts to a new life on Himmel Street in the fictional town of Molching with her foster parents, Hans and Rosa Hubermann (Geoffrey Rush and Emily Watson). This is the story of a German girl trying to make sense of her small, fragile life amidst the horrors of Nazi Germany leading up to World War 2. Liesel finds a solace of sorts in books and words and tries to make sense of her circumstances through them. She doesn’t understand all the hate going around and no one really knows how to answer why so much hate can spread like a disease.

Many stories of this terrible era in humanity’s history are told from the viewpoint of Jewish people or other people who were affected by the atrocities committed by the Nazis but this is the story of a small German town just trying to survive when the world has gone mad. Sophie Nélisse is wonderful as Liesel Meminger! She plays the role with the utmost grace. The rest of the cast also deliver stellar performances. Geoffrey Rush’s portrayal of Hans is sincere and makes you love the man who teaches Liesel to read, to love and to be courageous albeit seemingly foolish in the dreadful time they live in. Rosa is stern and rules the Hubermann household with an iron fist but you can tell she loves them all. Max (Ben Schnetzer), the young Jewish man that the Hubermanns hide in their basement manages to convey a lot of sadness and joy in that cramped space and is one of the characters to steals the show. My personal favourite character is Liesel’s best friend, Rudy Steiner (Nico Liersch). This lemon haired boy is all heart and you can’t help but love him.

This is a great movie. It’s not best movie depicting the period but it does offer a slightly different perspective into it and it is beautifully shot. The oppressive Nazi propaganda is a constant backdrop to the story and it constantly reminds you of the bleakness of the place the story is set in. The music by John Williams adds quite a lot to the tone if this film and is moving.

Rudy envisioning himself as Jesse Owens

Some people feel that it’s too sad. I don’t think so. It is sad but it also shows how normal people overcome terrible situations and how kind and selfless they can be. I think the story, like all good stories, is what J.R.R. Tolkien called eucatastrophe – the good tale that breaks your heart.

Put some tissues in your pocket or handbag and give The Book Thief a watch. It’s a good movie. That is all.

My Magical Place: The Book Thief Preamble

I get very excited about things. It's the way I'm built. My parents used excitable atoms to make me. But, whatever. I went to go see The Book Thief last night and Sophie Nélisse stole my ol' literary heart as Liesel Meminger.

I shall post a review tomorrow because you really should go see it. Don't even wait for the review. Just go see it.

If I have to use one word to describe this movie it would be wonder :).

The Writer's Creed

Islam, Judaism, Christianity and even the Brotherhood of Assassins, they all have creeds. People who subscribe to these and other sects live by these creeds and die by these creeds. I am a writer and I need a creed that will be the force that drives me in that magical moment when fingers tap keyboard or thumb and forefinger clutch pen to jot down my brain noodles and present them as useful thought. I need a creed that'll set a fire to my mind and transform the words I conjure from mere to more.

I kneel here, in the darkest cavern of my mind, all voodoo ritual-like, and swear my fealty to my Muse: that from this day forth I shall live by this keyboard and pen, I shall die clutching these writers' tools and if I were to be resurrected by the likes of Dr Victor Frankenstein that I'll be a zombie whose hands are perpetually ink stained. With my last breath, as I stand facing Death I'll assualt her with a barrage of words worthy of a scroll in a dusty library. Thus I will be welcome in the mighty company of the legendary scribes.

I promise to write everyday, whether I'm feeling blue, green or grey. I promise to do battle with that white sheet of paper (digital or tangible) even though I know I will suffer defeat more often than not. I want to weather that 'long defeat' like Tolkien's Elves of old did their war against Morgoth, that darkest of lords. Like Liesel Meminger, the book thief, I want to fall in love with words; I want to stand up and hate them and always endeavour to make them right. 

"all voodoo ritual-like"

I write to tell my stories, the stories of people whose lives breathe and at times bleed into mine; I write to share my mind, heart and soul with other minds, hearts and souls. I write selfishly and I write selflessly. I seek to make sense of life and to be understood in life. I write nonsense when I find I cannot make sense and I'm misunderstood or I stand under amiss. I write with a lot of fear - it's always near, whispering caution and poison in my ear. I negotiate personal space with fear, it's a lifelong tug of war for the real estate of my mind. I write to play well (leg godt) with words like people play with LEGO bricks. I stick words together to construct grand structures I often have no names for but they make sense somehow - their lack of conventional sense make them so. As I've said before, I'm a wordslinger, my words, the pieces of my heart, are the bullets with which I shoot at readers and pierce souls. I aim for a gutshot and, ironically, I'm the one who spills my guts (blood and shit all over a page). My headshots rejuvenate brains instead of spilling them like secrets, like b3ans. I write to spread good rumours like a disease, but without the dis- affixed, I do it with ease. I give readers a good infection. I construct my words in simile in the hope that readers deconstruct them with a smile.

I am a writer. I always try my imaginary best. I frequent the Well at the World's End: I am well-read, well-informed and well-written.