Sometimes a book keeps showing up everywhere I turn. The Book Thief was one of those books. I saw it in several blogs I read and week after week, it just kept showing up. So I decided it was time to read it. Had I known what it was about, I wouldn’t have even added it to my list.




I don’t read books that take place during the second world war. Ever. The only exceptions to this were “The Reader” which I did love and a book I read in Turkish a while ago written by a survivor. I have watched Schindler’s List and Life is Beautiful. In the case of the latter, after the movie ended, I wept in the theater for almost an hour. This topic gets under my skin. I am not ordinarily very religious but I cannot stand reading about the second world war. So I err on the side of not even picking such books up.



But I had picked this one up and when I found out what it was about (my sister told me) I decided to put it right back down. But my sister insisted. It’s really amazing she said. My friend literally couldn’t put it down. She read the whole thing in one day. So I read on.



It was terrible. Not the book, mind you. The book is odd but well-written and the story is touching and personal and so human. That’s what makes it that much worse. Because, of course, the story is terribly sad. So many horrible things happen. So many people die. And there’s so much destruction.



I just don’t have the stomach for this much sorrow. To see how incredibly cruel humans can be. Life is hard enough as it is, I don’t need my books to be this sad. I really don’t.



Well, one more book finished. My pick for next week is an author I adore and I hope it’s a happy story.