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Unformatted text preview: o tell Rosa Hubermann that she loved her. It’s a shame she didn’t say it. She wanted to read the book in the basement, for old times’ sake, but Mama convinced her otherwise. “There’s
a reason Max got sick down there,” she said, “and I can tell you one thing, girl, I’m not letting you get sick.”
She read in the kitchen.
Red and yellow gaps in the stove.
The Word Shaker.
She made her way through the countless sketches and stories, and the pictures with captions. Things like Rudy
on a dais with three gold medals slung around his neck. Hair the color of lemons was written beneath it. The
snowman made an appearance, as did a list of the thirteen presents, not to mention the records of countless
nights in the basement or by the fire.
Of course, there were many thoughts, sketches, and dreams relating to Stuttgart and Germany and the Führer.
Recollections of Max’s family were also there. In the end, he could not resist including them. He had to.
Then came page 117.
That was where The Word Shaker itself made its appearance.
It was a fable or a fairy tale. Liesel was not sure which. Even days later, when she looked up both terms in the
Duden Dictionary, she couldn’t distinguish between the two.
On the previous page, there was a small note.
Liesel—I almost scribbled this story out. I thought you
might be too old for such a tale, but maybe no one is. I
thought of you and your books and words, and this strange
story came into my head. I hope you can find some good in it.
She turned the page.
THERE WAS once a strange, small man. He decided three important details about his life:
1. He would part his hair from the opposite side to everyone else.
2. He would make himself a small, strange mustache.
3. He would one day rule the world.
The young man wandered around for quite some time, thinking, planning, and figuring out exactly how to make
the world his. Then one day, out of nowhere, it struck him—the perfect plan. He’d seen a mother walking with
her child. At one po...
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- Winter '13