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Unformatted text preview: ermans not loved one particular
The Germans loved to burn things. Shops, synagogues, Reichstags, houses, personal items, slain people, and of
course, books. They enjoyed a good book-burning, all right—which gave people who were partial to books the
opportunity to get their hands on certain publications that they otherwise wouldn’t have. One person who was
that way inclined, as we know, was a thin-boned girl named Liesel Meminger. She may have waited 463 days,
but it was worth it. At the end of an afternoon that had contained much excitement, much beautiful evil, one
blood-soaked ankle, and a slap from a trusted hand, Liesel Meminger attained her second success story. The
Shoulder Shrug. It was a blue book with red writing engraved on the cover, and there was a small picture of a
cuckoo bird under the title, also red. When she looked back, Liesel was not ashamed to have stolen it. On the
contrary, it was pride that more resembled that small pool of felt something in her stomach. And it was anger
and dark hatred that had fueled her desire to steal it. In fact, on April 20—the Führer’s birthday—when she
snatched that book from beneath a steaming heap of ashes, Liesel was a girl made of darkness.
The question, of course, should be why?
What was there to be angry about?
What had happened in the past four or five months to culminate in such a feeling?
In short, the answer traveled from Himmel Street, to the Führer, to the unfindable location of her real mother,
and back again. Like most misery, it started with apparent happiness. THE JOY OF CIGARETTES
Toward the end of 1939, Liesel had settled into life in Molching pretty well. She still had nightmares about her
brother and missed her mother, but there were comforts now, too.
She loved her papa, Hans Hubermann, and even her foster mother, despite the abusages and verbal assaults. She
loved and hated her best friend, Rudy Steiner, which was perfectly normal. And she loved the fact that despite
her failure in the c...
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- Winter '13