The Book Thief
THE ARYAN SHOPKEEPER
They stood outside Frau Diller’s, against the whitewashed wall.
A lolly was in Liesel Meminger’s mouth.
The sun was in her eyes.
Despite these difficulties, she was still able to speak, and argue.
ANOTHER CONVERSATION BETWEEN RUDY AND LIESEL
‘Hurry up, Saumensch, that’s ten already.’
‘It’s not, it’s only eight – I’ve got two to go.’
‘Well hurry up then. I told you we should
have got a knife and sawn it in half …
Come on, that’s two.’
‘All right. Here. And don’t swallow it.’
‘Do I look like an idiot?’
A short pause.
‘This is great, isn’t it?’
‘It sure is, Saumensch.’
At the end of August and summer, they found one pfennig on the ground. Pure excitement.
It was sitting half-rotten amongst some dirt, on the washing and ironing route. A solitary corroded coin.
‘Have a look at that!’
Rudy swooped on it. The excitement almost stung as they rushed back to Frau Diller’s, not even considering that a single pfennig might not be the right price. They burst through the door and stood in front of the Aryan shopkeeper, who regarded them with contempt.
‘I’m waiting,’ she said. Her hair was tied back and her black dress choked her body. The framed photo of the Führer kept watch from the wall.
‘Heil Hitler,’ Rudy led.
‘Heil Hitler,’ she responded, straightening taller behind the counter. ‘And you?’ She glared at Liesel, who promptly gave her a Heil Hitler of her own.
It didn’t take Rudy long to dig the coin from his pocket and place it firmly on the counter. He looked straight into Frau Diller’s spectacled eyes and said, ‘Mixed lollies, please.’
Frau Diller smiled. Her teeth elbowed each other for room in her mouth, and her unexpected kindness made Rudy and Liesel smile as well. Not for long.
She bent down, did some searching, and faced them again. ‘Here,’ she said, tossing a single lolly onto the counter. ‘Mix it yourself.’
Outside, they unwrapped it and tried biting it in half, but the sugar was like glass. Far too tough, even for Rudy’s animal-like choppers. Instead, they had to trade sucks on it until it was finished. Ten sucks for Rudy. Ten for Liesel. Back and forth.
‘This,’ Rudy announced at one point, with a lolly-toothed grin, ‘is the good life,’ and Liesel didn’t disagree. By the time they were finished, both their mouths were an exaggerated red, and as they walked home, they reminded each other to keep their eyes peeled, in case they found another coin.
Naturally they found nothing. No-one can be that lucky twice in one year, let alone a single afternoon.
Still, with red tongues and teeth, they walked down Himmel Street, happily searching the ground as they went.
The day had been a great one, and Nazi Germany was a wondrous place.