The Book Thief by Marcus Zusak

Normally, I wouldn't read something like this even with a gun pointed at me. I don't care how "good" it is supposed to be. But, I have two things mitigating my horror of Nazi Germany stories which give me nightmares thankyouverymuch and invoke my inherent War Guilt (still have relatives in Germany, not to mention the "Nazi-sympathizing" ones stateside). One, reading YA lit reflects on my performance evaluation (which I can almost see, as I work with kids and often have to take the older ones to the teen section and point out books and programs because there is no teen librarian on duty at this time) and, two, my book group (with gritted teeth:) is reading this one. Arrrrrrrrrgggggh!
This is a Very Good Book. I'm not just saying that because reading it affects my performance evaluation. "Sid and Nancy" is a Very Good Movie, but I don't want to have to watch it again. "Alfie" (the real one, not the recent abomination) is a brilliant movie I was unable to turn away from but I hope I never have to see it again. So, I can be thoroughly repelled by something and admit it's a good thing. I bet teens would eat this up. It's larded, oops, I mean loaded with emotion-button thumping drama that will wring the last tear out, then wallow in the details of the drama again in case you missed any of it the first time. With all the emotions and hormones running rampant in teens, this is a terrific outlet. I used to read A Little Princess at least every month when I was a kid for a really good cry. Now all I have to do is think, "Even when I was coldest and hungriest I tried not to be," and I'm simultaneously revolted and elevated. But I have enough drama in my life right now, so this is just too much.
It is somewhat comforting to read that some Germans weren't the monsters that the few who relished the plight of the Jews make them appear. I know that my old German professor was a member of the Hitler Youth. He waved his hand dismissively and said that there was no choice. At the end of the war, they were so hungry that they climbed some apple trees and ate the green apples and then, predictably, were sick. This book reminded me of his stories. It also reminded me of the used clothing that was packed up to send to our relatives in Germany after the war and my dad wondering what on earth they would need his tuxedo for. He griped about that for decades. They were apparently quite grateful and sent many letters of thanks and updates to my aunt.
Zusak uses interesting descriptive language, unexpected adjectives modifying ordinary words. This made the narrative quite poetic, the effects being beautiful or jarring by turns. The book is narrated by Death, and perhaps this explains it. I haven't read any of Zusak's other material to know. I didn't, in fact, read this. I listened to our audiobook version in the car in very small doses, which just made it more painful, I think. Corduner puts some excruciating emotional depth in this story, which makes driving all the more dangerous.
I am so glad this book is done. Go read it for yourself. I don't think I'm even that happy about talking about it.