I cried in bed last night
Sobbed and sobbed. As quietly as possible so as not to wake Guido.
Why?
Because of the book I was reading.
I've never cried for a book before, or not that I can remember. I don't even remember getting choked up (I do occasionally for films). But last night I started crying with a couple of chapters to go and just couldn't stop. It's the most distraught I've been for a while. And I don't think it was even some underlying distress which was the true cause, I really do think I was 100% crying because of the book!
The daft thing is that the book - The Book Thief by Markus Zusak - sets its stall out right from the beginning. It's openly stated that it's not going to be a happy story and the prologue is a series of flash-forwards which make it clear where you're heading. The book is set in WWII Germany, always a cause for optimism, and is narrated by Death. Who, incidentally, doesn't understand suspense and thus keeps revealing spoilers. So clearly the book is not going to end well. And yet when I finally reached the end, I was a soggy mess with a sore throat. (I had to turn my pillow over!)
The daft thing is, earlier this year I read a non-fiction book called In the Ruins of the Reich, an account of Germany from the Allied invasion to 1948. It was a fascinating book which made me in turns upset, angry, ashamed, sickened and horrified. But it never once made me cry.
I'm reminded of an essay I wrote... almost exactly ten years ago, actually. "Comedy is the best form to disrupt representations of the Real." I'm pretty certain I ended up agreeing with the thesis there and I think my comparative reactions to these two (excellent) books aligns with it too.
Do I recommend The Book Thief? Yes. Wholeheartedly. It was a wonderful book and I enjoyed it immensely. But be prepared and don't finish it somewhere you'd be uncomfortable crying!
Why?
Because of the book I was reading.
I've never cried for a book before, or not that I can remember. I don't even remember getting choked up (I do occasionally for films). But last night I started crying with a couple of chapters to go and just couldn't stop. It's the most distraught I've been for a while. And I don't think it was even some underlying distress which was the true cause, I really do think I was 100% crying because of the book!
The daft thing is that the book - The Book Thief by Markus Zusak - sets its stall out right from the beginning. It's openly stated that it's not going to be a happy story and the prologue is a series of flash-forwards which make it clear where you're heading. The book is set in WWII Germany, always a cause for optimism, and is narrated by Death. Who, incidentally, doesn't understand suspense and thus keeps revealing spoilers. So clearly the book is not going to end well. And yet when I finally reached the end, I was a soggy mess with a sore throat. (I had to turn my pillow over!)
The daft thing is, earlier this year I read a non-fiction book called In the Ruins of the Reich, an account of Germany from the Allied invasion to 1948. It was a fascinating book which made me in turns upset, angry, ashamed, sickened and horrified. But it never once made me cry.
I'm reminded of an essay I wrote... almost exactly ten years ago, actually. "Comedy is the best form to disrupt representations of the Real." I'm pretty certain I ended up agreeing with the thesis there and I think my comparative reactions to these two (excellent) books aligns with it too.
Do I recommend The Book Thief? Yes. Wholeheartedly. It was a wonderful book and I enjoyed it immensely. But be prepared and don't finish it somewhere you'd be uncomfortable crying!