The Book Thief

DEATH AND LIESEL

It has been many years since all of that, but there is still plenty of work to do. I can promise you that the world is a factory. The sun stirs it, the humans rule it. And I remain. I carry them away.

As for what’s left of this story, I will not skirt around any of it, because I’m tired, I’m so tired, and I will tell it as straightly as I can.

A LAST FACT

Liesel Meminger lived to a very old age, far away from Molching and the demise of Himmel Street.

She died in a suburb of Sydney. The house number was forty-five – the same as the Fiedlers’ shelter – and the sky was the best blue of afternoon. Like her papa, her soul was sitting up.

In her final visions, she saw her three children, her grand-children, her husband, and the long list of lives that merged with hers. Among them, lit like lanterns, were Hans and Rosa Hubermann, her brother, and the boy whose hair remained the colour of lemons for ever.

But a few other visions were there as well.

Come with me and I’ll tell you a story.

I’ll show you something.