I spent two hours this afternoon totally immersed in a movie that was an inspiring distraction. Its title—The Book Thief.
There once was a girl, who had a friend that lived in the shadows. She would remind him how the sun felt on his skin and what the air felt like to breathe, and that reminded her that she was still alive.
It is the story of a German girl living in Nazi Munich - Molching on the verge of Hitler coming to power. She has been put into foster care.
The movie, like the critically acclaimed novel, is narrated by Death.
Death: When I finally came for Liesel, I took selfish pleasure in the knowledge that she had lived her ninety years so wisely. By then, her stories had touched many souls, some of whom I came to know in passing. Max, whose friendship lasted almost as long as Liesel. Almost. In her final thoughts, she saw the long list of lives that merged with hers. Her three children, her grandchildren, her husband. Among them, lit like lanterns, were Hans and Rosa, her brother, and the boy whose hair remained the color of lemons forever.
I wanted to tell The Book Thief she was one of the few souls that made me wonder what it was to live. But in the end there were no words. Only peace. The only truth I truly know is that I am haunted by humans.
I hope I’ve provided enough here to pique your interest in seeing the movie. You’ll be inspired and brought to tears in the telling of ordinary people living in horrifying times.