Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts

Thursday, April 5, 2012

Markus Zusak: The Book Thief

So far, this has been one of the best books of 2012 for me (2012 as in the year I read it, this novel was published in 2006). It's more than 550 pages that go by in a couple of days - keeping you up at night because you just have to finish the story - and that also stay with you for a long time after you've reluctantly turned the last page. The Book Thief takes place in Nazi Germany, and is centered around a young girl, Liesel Meminger, who ends up in a foster home, after tragically losing her brother on the way to Molching, where their mother is forced to take her children, after her husband has been taken away because he is a "Kommunist". As World War II draws near and finally climaxes, we follow Liesel's growing relationship with her foster parents, Anna and Hans Hubermann, and the other Himmel Street neighbors. Hans is the most likeable and deeply moving character of the book. He works as a painter and plays an accordion whose story we come to know later in the novel, as his past is revealed to us. Anna's coarseness doesn't come near Hans's tenderness to the little girl, who won't even speak when she first arrives, but her affection towards her is equally strong. Another important character is Rudy Steiner, Liesel's friend at school, whose love for her is truly heroic. And finally Max Vandenburg - a Jew who the Hubermanns hide in their basement during the war - is a crucial figure, because the simplicity and tenderness of his relationship with Liesel make the backdrop of the holocaust all the more horrific. The story is well plotted, all the characters are intense and well-rounded, but the main strong points of the novel are the writing style and the narrative structure. The whole story is told by Death, an omniscient narrator, who stresses how busy its job is between 1939 and 1945. The Death we meet in these pages is quite different from the traditional image, since here it appears not menacing or cruel, but benevolent, deeply attached to the souls it carries lovingly away from the bloody earth and extremely tired of its task. This choice of narrator helps the author hold the story tightly together, as everything is orchestrated by an omniscient narrator (much like in 18th century fiction). This point of view helps human actions appear in all of their grotesqueness, when violence is concerned: ‘I guess humans like to watch a little destruction. Sandcastles, houses of cards, that’s where they begin. Their great skill is their capacity to escalate.’
At the same time, the peculiar device of such an abstract voice allows for the use of imagery and actual poetry that add poignancy to the story without being out of place. There are even illustrations (by Trudy White) and news-flash type, bold centered notes that anticipate what takes place in the following paragraphs, and that serve as epigrams along with the lists of "features" of each chapter. For example, this note is effective in its brevity in telling us the character's intention to help his friend: 

The contents of Rudy's bag: 
    six stale pieces of bread, 
  broken into quarters.

The beauty and power of words are also an underlying theme of the book, as the title points to. Many reviewers talk about Liesel saving books from Nazi campfires (referring to one episode in particular) and the Italian translation of the title, unfortunately, is La ragazza che salvava i libri, coherently with this interpretation. Liesel's status of thief, however, is very important to the story,  as is the fact that she is actually stealing the books. Her first motive is always to take something beautiful and important, and keep it for herself. The power and beauty of words, and of the people who use them, are the key to a haunting story about the tragedy of the holocaust and the War, that manages to be heart-warming and hopeful. The rarity of this combination is what will make The Book Thief a modern classic.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

Clint Eastwood: Hereafter

If you went to the movies expecting to see Eastwood's take on Sixth's Sense style sci-fi, like some previews might have led you to, you were certainly disappointed. Hereafter is an interesting character-drama that deals with the biggest mystery of all: death. Three stories are interwoven throughout the film and only at the end do they come together. Each story centers around a character who, for some reason, is haunted by mortality: one because of a near-death experience, one for a special 'gift' and one, the endearing little Marcus, because of the loss of the person closest to him. What makes the film special is that all these characters are in desperate need for answers, and the movie doesn't really provide any. Actually, there is an overall message of hope, that is, basically that you're not alone, because your loved ones stay with you, in some mysterious way. But the most important thing the film stresses is the falsehood of living pretending that death doesn't exist. Taking the question about afterlife seriously can only mean, for all these characters, changing the way they live their lives in some way. This is especially obvious with the character of the French journalist, but also the others are affected by death in the way one can only be affected by a fact that touches him personally, and not by thought or abstract speculation. Though it doesn't reach the peaks of Million Dollar Baby or Gran Torino, this movie raises questions that are crucial, without the pretense of offering an easy answer, in a way that is respectful of the mystery dealt with and at the same time compassionate towards the characters. Matt Damon is very convincing as an unwilling medium, as is Cècile De France as the reflective but tough French Journalist, but the most moving scenes involve the young twins Frankie and George McLaren. There are some weak spots, script-wise, like the abrupt exit of Bryce Dallas Howard's character, or the last scene, that isn't quite satisfying. But Eastwood also delivers a spectacular Tsunami action scene - which proves special effects aren't only for 3D aliens - and a range of moods from cheery (the cooking class scenes) to mournful. Hereafter also posesses something that is a rare trait when dealing with such a heavy topic: grace.