You bear the unbearable because you have no other choice

The Book Thief - Markus Zusak (Alfred A. Knopf, 2005)

You have to know this book is setting you up to carry a heavy weight. The setting: Nazi Germany. The narrator: Death. That's all you really need to know, yes?

Liesel steals her first book at her brother's graveside. Her brother, who died beside her on a train as her mother accompanied them to a new foster home. Her father? A Communist, so who knows where he was. Liesel gets new parents, a harridan of a mother and a gentle musician father. And a new life. She learns to read, makes friends, all against the backdrop of a gathering storm, that breaks out in Poland, and then everywhere.

And then... her new Papa owes his survival in the First World War to a comrade who lost his life. He vowed to the widow that he would be there to repay the debt. And so the family finds itself sheltering a young Jewish man in the basement.

Because it's Nazi Germany, even the glimmers of joy are against a background of dread, destruction, and death. Speaking of death, the narrator helpfully softens the blow by foreshadowing much that befalls them. And yet, each time the dagger falls, it cuts. Reading this book is a devastating experience.

And yet, there are those glimmers of joy and beauty. For one, you discover that beneath the carping facade of Liesel's foster mother is a loving, giving, and strong woman. Zusak offers a plausible depiction of a town where many of the people (with a capital P if you like) do not subscribe to the policies and beliefs of the Nazis, and perform their own small acts of rebellion. Everyone was culpable, but maybe some did all they could.

Struggling with the concept of "never forget"

Sarah's Key - Tatiana de Rosnay (St. Martin's Griffin, 2007)

Let me start with the frivolous. I somehow found myself, in conversation with a friend, comparing this book to The Da Vinci Code. And then feeling terrible. What I meant is that both novels employ the use of short chapters to create a propulsive effect. You're driven to continue reading.

And secondly, I was drawn to the use of font (typeface? I never know when to use which term). The narrative cuts back and forth between a little girl in 1942 - and her efforts to save her brother when all the Jews in Paris were rounded up before being sent to death camps - and a middle-aged American expat reporter in 2002, whose investigation into the events of July 1942 unearths secrets that remained hidden for six decades. Um... where was I before I got caught up in that rambling sentence? Oh, right, the font. Each of these narrative lines employs a different font, which somehow both emphasizes the difference between them and adds internal coherence within each plotline. If that makes sense. (Also, can you do this on an e-reader? I'm guessing yes, but would like confirmation.)

This novel deals with some pretty horrific stuff. (Obviously.) But there's a lot of room for beauty without it being some sort of paean to the triumph of the human spirit. People act out of love, fear, hate, decency, confusion, and pride. Not everyone gets a happy ending. (Again, obviously.) But there's catharsis, and above it all rises American Julia's insistence that the truth should - must - out.

I feel sorta babbly. Like all the above were comments I would make in a book club discussion, rather than forming some sort of coherent reaction to the novel. This book, by the way, has Book Club written all over it. Which reminds me that I want to join a book club. All of which brings me back to the "babbly" point, and leads to the question of whether this is the sort of book that one must talk around, rather than through.