The Book Thief - Markus Zusak

There were wooden teardrops and an oaky smile in

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Unformatted text preview: she wrote the following. THE BOOK THIEF a small story by Liesel Meminger THE RIB-CAGE PLANES Her hand was sore by page three. Words are so heavy, she thought, but as the night wore on, she was able to complete eleven pages. PAGE 1 I try to ignore it, but I know this all started with the train and the snow and my coughing brother. I stole my first book that day. It was a manual for digging graves and I stole it on my way to Himmel Street. . . . She fell asleep down there, on a bed of drop sheets, with the paper curling at the edges, up on the taller paint can. In the morning, Mama stood above her, her chlorinated eyes questioning. “Liesel,” she said, “what on earth are you doing down here?” “I’m writing, Mama.” “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.” Rosa stomped back up the steps. “Be back up in five minutes or you get the bucket treatment. Verstehst?” “I understand.” Every night, Liesel made her way down to the basement. She kept the book with her at all times. For hours, she wrote, attempting each night to complete ten pages of her life. There was so much to consider, so many things in danger of being left out. Just be patient, she told herself, and with the mounting pages, the strength of her writing fist grew. Sometimes she wrote about what was happening in the basement at the time of writing. She had just finished the moment when Papa had slapped her on the church steps and how they’d “heil Hitlered” together. Looking across, Hans Hubermann was packing the accordion away. He’d just played for half an hour as Liesel wrote. PAGE 42 Papa sat with me tonight. He brought the accordion down and sat close to where Max used to sit. I often look at his fingers and face when he plays. The accordion breathes. There are lines on his cheeks. They look drawn on, and for some reason, when I see them, I want to cry. It is not for any sadness or pride. I just like the way they move and change. Sometimes I think my papa is an accordion. When he looks at me and smiles and...
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This note was uploaded on 01/17/2014 for the course ENG 99 taught by Professor Michal during the Winter '13 term at CSU Sacramento.

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