Well, your writing did anyway! What beautiful language which captured me from the beginning and refused to let me go, “First the colors. / Then the humans. / That’s usually how I see things. / Or at least how I try” (3). 

Or “If you can imagine it, think clumsy silence. Think bits and pieces of floating despair. And drowning in a train” (21).

Or “THE CONTENTS OF LIESEL MEMINGER’S IMAGINATION. IN the shell-shocked kitchen, somewhere near the stove, there’s an image of a lonely, overworked typewriter. IT sits in a distant, near-empty room Its keys are faded and a blank sheet waits patiently upright in the assumed position. It wavers slightly in the breeze from the window. Coffee break is nearly over. A pile of paper the height of a human stands casually by the door. It could easily be smoking” (418).

And especially, a visual image of death, right from the start, “The second eye jumped awake and she caught me out, no doubt about it. It was exactly when I knelt down and extracted his soul, holding it limply in my swollen arms, He warmed up soon after, but when I picked him up originally, the boy’s spirit was soft and cold, like ice cream. He started melting in my arms. Then warming up completely healing” (21).

From the long pieces of poetic language, to the more detailed and intricate moments, “…unflappable, unwavering… unnerved, untied, and undone” (309) where Zusak chooses to incorporate alliteration, and so on throughout, The Book Thief is a highly constructed literary masterpiece.

Not only has Zusak captured the heart of language, he has also captured a bit of the good and bad in human essence. His narrator, Death, is well aware of the good and bad and chooses to record all of his experiences, especially following a knowing little girl through Nazi Germany. Liesel experiences life at a constant transcendence above others, always seeing and knowing and being able to express what she is seeing and knowing in lovely words and stories. These stories, through her stolen books or her own infallible words, follow her through her childhood and even through the death of her whole neighborhood—both figuratively and literally words saved her!

And, it would seem, that Zusak is attempting to create a message to his readers: While humans may be evil, there are certain word shakers who have the ability to dispel at least a moment in time of this awfulness so that the rest of us may go on living to the best of our ability. And that, the living, the freedom—that is what is most important in the end.

Liesel had the freedom to write and craft her story, as did Markus Zusak—I would encourage you to learn this valuable lesson and have the courage to write your own story!

1. Kleenex—Because, as obvious as it is, it’s a tear jerker, folks. John Green has effectively captured the heart, soul, and mind of youth as they deal with the coming of age combined with the complexity of losing a dear friend. And if you’re not the crying type, you should still pack tissue because you’re going to need a place to write all of those great last lines, and a notebook just wouldn’t suffice.
2. Strong Coffee—This bugger is an all-nighter. One of those books that you take with you under the covers of your bed with a flashlight and wait anticipatorily for footsteps and knock of your dad telling you to “turn the damn light off and go to sleep.” Even if you’re a twenty-four year old master’s student attending a college eight hours away from your parents, I give you permission to read this one under the covers. ‘Cause it’s just that great!
3. A Lie Detector—While I am sure that the average citizen does not have access to a lie detector, one is still advisable because while reading this book; you’re going to want to do a heart check. John Green explores the honest and true feelings of teens today and all of the conflict that they encounter. From the initial mention of
   Alaska’s death, “Last night, Alaska Young was in a terrible car accident… And she was killed.
   Alaska has passed away” (139) to the more mundane trailer park Thanksgiving, and the friends with benefits scene before her death, the themes and emotions explored are candid. The initial immaturity of the narrator slowly fades away as he discovers that life is about the friends that you find in the most random of places, and that finding those friends does not necessarily mean keeping them within your physical touch, though it does mean keeping them within the reach of your heart.
4. A pen and paper—Because when you’re done reading, you’re going to want to write something as magnificent as John Green in order to capture the truth of humanity. Or, at least you will be more willing to capture the genuineness of your own life.
5. A map—Go find your
   Alaska!

Unlike some readers or authors who say, “I heart YA” only to get out of awkwardly tense situations where a microphone is shoved in their face and they are asked to give an opinion on the ever-growing YA genre, I can honestly say, “I heart YA.”

Why?

 I think it started when I was  twelve, though it may have been slightly before that. But twelve would be my most vivid YA memory. Year twelve, among other eventful circumstances, was the first year I learned to ride a two-wheeler (I was a late bloomer), the year my parents roofed our house, and the year I came down with the dreaded chicken pox (again, late bloomer). I especially remember puking, oatmeal baths, and “Get Well” balloons. But, what I most remember, is my mom reading all of The Little House on the Prarie books to me as I lay in bed sobbing because of the itching, only to eventually fall dead asleep because of the exhaustion of tears, sickness, and the pictures from the words she read in my head forming a much better image than the porceilin god to which I had been praying.

Since that time, I eventually grew past my LHoTP phase, and moved to Bronte, Orwell, and Tolkein. And, every now and then, when I was feeling particularly relgious, Lewis, as in C.S. and not necessarily The Chronicles. Grown up books aside, I would always come back to my YA books, as a secret that no one could know about. YA books became the ones that I read under the sheets (well not really “under”–I have asthma, so breathing well is a bit of a necessity) with my book light (given to me with an eye-roll and a “Can’t you seriously ask for anything besides book stuff for Christmas?” from my mom) afraid that someone might steal my world away a bit too soon. I was no longer afraid of the infamous, “Turn off the light and go to sleep,” now I became afraid that someone, anyone would discover my secret–a college graduate was reading books written for 12-18 year olds.

And then one day (read: the day I broke my hand, couldn’t write, and discovered The Series of Unfortunate Events), I decided that it was okay. I read YA books. No, I loved YA books. That was around the time I decided to apply to graduate school as a writer, which I did and have just finished my first year as an MA/MLIS student at UW-Milwaukee.

Having discovered my reading/writing passion, I am determined to take “I Heart YA” to the blogging world and respond to all of the YA books that I read. Feel free to offer suggestions and critiques.

 Most importantly, I want the world to know, that I HEART YA!