The Book Thief is the most wonderful book. I’ve only come across one person who wasn’t completely enraptured by it, and I’m still completely bewildered by their lack of adoration. This is probably going to sound gushy throughout so I apologise in advance, but it really was brilliant.
I first read The Book Thief in 2011, and I reread it to coincide with the release of the film, because I was originally intending to do this as a Book Vs. Film review (I think it was released fairly late in the UK). However, being as disorganised as I am, I managed to miss it at the cinema and so never watched the film, although actually now I’m really glad I didn’t (for reasons which I’ll go into later).
The story is told from the point of view of Death (who is very busy in Nazi Germany), and focuses on…
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