The Book Thief - Markus Zusak

Papa max stood up like a struck match the darkness

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Unformatted text preview: it would at least drizzle now and again. For more than a decade, it all worked. Hans Junior and Trudy were born. They grew up making visits to their papa at work, slapping paint on walls and cleaning brushes. When Hitler rose to power in 1933, though, the painting business fell slightly awry. Hans didn’t join the NSDAP like the majority of people did. He put a lot of thought into his decision. THE THOUGHT PROCESS OF HANS HUBERMANN He was not well-educated or political, but if nothing else, he was a man who appreciated fairness. A Jew had once saved his life and he couldn’t forget that. He couldn’t join a party that antagonized people in such a way. Also, much like Alex Steiner, some of his most loyal customers were Jewish. Like many of the Jews believed, he didn’t think the hatred could last, and it was a conscious decision not to follow Hitler. On many levels, it was a disastrous one. Once the persecution began, his work slowly dried up. It wasn’t too bad to begin with, but soon enough, he was losing customers. Handfuls of quotes seemed to vanish into the rising Nazi air. He approached an old faithful named Herbert Bollinger—a man with a hemispheric waistline who spoke Hochdeutsch (he was from Hamburg)—when he saw him on Munich Street. At first, the man looked down, past his girth, to the ground, but when his eyes returned to the painter, the question clearly made him uncomfortable. There was no reason for Hans to ask, but he did. “What’s going on, Herbert? I’m losing customers quicker than I can count.” Bollinger didn’t flinch anymore. Standing upright, he delivered the fact as a question of his own. “Well, Hans. Are you a member?” “Of what?” But Hans Hubermann knew exactly what the man was talking about. “Come on, Hansi,” Bollinger persisted. “Don’t make me spell it out.” The tall painter waved him away and walked on. As the years passed by, the Jews were being terrorized at random throughout the country, and in the spring of 1937, almost to his shame, Hans Hu...
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