Character Reflection

February 28, 2010

About Journal,

I chose write this blog in the protagonist, Liesel's perspective. In the novel, the narrator is death, an all-knowing character that impassively describes the triumphs and great losses of Liesel's life. Not to mention, the author does not go into detail about how she feels during the most important moments in the story, so I thought that it would be more interesting to express how she probably feels throughout the text. Also, the journal explains why she does and says certain things. At the end of each entry, Liesel either realizes something important, or reaches a conclusion on a certain issue.

To write this journal, I took in account the personality, behavior, and life experiences of the protagonist. Liesel is a stubborn, tomboy; therefore, when I writing most my posts, I made her a bit blunt. On the other hand, she also endures a painful life in Nazi Germany, so she becomes soft spoken and child-like, at times. Liesel's favorite pastime is stealing books and then reading them. She appears more grown-up, so she becomes interested in adult literature. Every night, her papa would help her read a book and write out new words, by doing this, along with school; Liesel quickly became well-versed. Taking this in consideration, I wrote the entries basically at a high school level, in most parts. Over all, Liesel is very much inconsistent. She tries to act mature, but in reality, she is just any other child in Nazi Germany, confused, hurt, and scared.

The Walk

March 12, 1942

Dear Journal,

I was in the middle of a soccer game when everything suddenly stilled. There was a strange sound that rang throughout the field so loudly that even Tommy Muller could hear it. I had no idea what that noise was. Rudy, on the other hand, was convinced it was a herd of angry cows. Everyone knew that he was definitely wrong, so we went to investigate. We decided that the sound originated near Frau Diller's shop. The whole situation was confusing; everyone was curious as to what was happening. We rushed down Munich Street only to encounter a scary, old lady who whispered something about the Jews. There was no need for a clearer answer.

Moments later, people began to crowd the streets as a group of Jew and other criminals marched down Munich Street. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed papa hauling his paint cart. I pulled Rudy along with me to see papa. At first, papa tried to convince me leave, but I wanted to see this; I needed to see this. However, once I saw them I began rethink my decision. They were beyond starving, enveloped in dirt and misery. It looked as though, they all could roll die; no one would be surprised and no one would care. To those that participated in this death march, I could only offer them looks of sympathy and hope they would recognize it. I particularly took notice of an old man, so close death that trudged down the street. He fell down multiple times only to be rise up and continue. In an instant, papa let go of my hand and reached in his cart, pulling out a scrap of bread. He slipped it to the Jewish man, in thanks, groveled at his feet. The other Jews could only briefly observe the scene; their eyes were full of appreciation.

This peaceful moment did not last as a soldier made his way through the day. Only punishment awaited them. The old man received 6 lashes. Rudy reached out for my hand as Papa 4 times and collapsed in the middle of the street. Rudy and I helped carry him home as the German crowd turned over the Jew lover's paint cart. I could see the worry etched on his face as he began to panic: "They'll come now. They'll come. Oh, Christ, oh, crucified Christ... 'What was I thinking?' His eyes closed tighter and opened again. His overalls creased. There was paint and blood on his hands. And bread crumbs. How different from the bread of summer. 'Oh my God, Liesel, what have I done'"(Zusak 395). What could I say? I have never seen papa so distraught. Papa will have to leave or perhaps worse. There was I ever do to comfort papa, my trust is all I could offer. I think he made the right decision to save that man, but then who was going save us?

Endangered Max

June 3, 1941

Dear Journal,

The day was going well. We found a new soccer ball and began to play a street game. Suddenly, the other kids stopped moving in the middle of a penalty kick, I turned around and I saw a group of men entering Frau Diller's shop. I had no idea; who they were, or why they were here? But of course, Rudy knew all about it. Apparently, the NSDAP needed more air-raid shelters, so they were checking basements to see if they provide suitable protection. After learning this, I knew that I had to get home as soon as possible and tell papa. But there was a problem; it would look really suspicious if I went off running home. Everyone around me continued playing soccer as though nothing was ever said, but I remained frozen in front of the goal.

As I saw the Nazis walk pass us, I conceived simple and yet effective plan. But before I could put it into action, I ran into Klaus Behrig causing him to completely miss the goal. I skinned my knee and a ridiculous headache. Not to mention, Klaus was beyond angry. It seemed that my life could not any worse at that moment, but of course I was wrong again. I party member came over to check my condition and offered to take me home. I refused him three times before Rudy stepped in and convinced him that I would be fine. I was truly grateful, but now I had to deal with the most stubborn boy on Earth. Well, if I could not go to papa, he needed to come to me. So, Rudy rushed over to my house to get papa. Then papa carried me in and I explained to him that the Nazis were coming. Papa immediately thought to hide max under my bed; however, it was already too late to devise a half-baked scheme as the Nazi party members were knocking at our door.

We realized our only chance of survival would be to distract the party members until we could safely hide Max. I was shocked to see the same Nazi to help me earlier. I tried to remain calm; it helped that mama and papa was little frightened too. I remembered how cleaned by knee both to delay the party member and soothe his own worries. We could only sit in silence as he examined the basement thoroughly. I needed Max to be safe; he was almost like a brother to me now. We shared our nightmares, our aspirations, and a sense of happiness that was hard to find in Nazi Germany. I could never imagine how terrified Max must have felt; he was so close to safety, and yet so close to being discovered, at the same time. I could not help but worry that he may discover Max and then take mama and papa away. Papa wanted us to look as natural as possible, so he told me to read my book and for mama to start cooking. I was nearly having an emotional break down when the sound of the party member excusing himself reached my ears. I basically ran down the basement stairs along with mama and papa. We removed the drop sheets and old paints only to be greeted by a highly disturbed Max. This moment was ingrained in my mind, never before had I seen Max like this: "Max Vandenburg sat beneath the steps, holding his rusty scissors like a knife. His armpits were soggy and the words fell like injuries from his mouth. 'I wouldn't have used them,' he quietly said. 'I'm sorry I put you through that'"(Zusak 345-346). Until this moment, I really did not realize how much Max suffered, since he resorted to such drastic measures. I was scared that someone as kind, helpful, and smart as Max, regressed to an almost primitive form, in self defense. Sometimes I wonder, if he was found, what would have happened and who would have lived? I do not want to understand how brutal Nazi Germany truly was.

A Strange Jewish Man

July 25, 1940

Dear Journal,

I was nearly asleep when I overheard mama voice. Out of curiosity, I snuck into the kitchen. The first thing I noticed that mama was yelling at papa, which is hardly unusual. When I turned my head, I saw a strange man staying by the door with a book in one hand and a suitcase in another. This caught me off guard, causing me the verbally express my thoughts. Mama scolded me for nearly 10 minutes before she reentered the kitchen. Unbeknownst to her, I silently followed. I witnessed mama standing over the strange as he devour her disgusting pea soup without a single complaint. I thought this would make her glad, but she seemed very worried instead. It did not take long for the soup to work its magic; a few moments later, the man was vomiting. I have no idea what is going on.

I was intent on finding out what everyone was hiding from me, but I was discovered again and then sent to my room. I crawled into bed and began thinking over the situation. At this point, I was becoming scared; mama and papa have never been so secretive before. Interrupting my train of thought, papa came and asked if I was okay. I responded, yes; even though, I was still concerned. From the hallway, I could hear him talking the man, but everything became hazy, as I was suddenly so drowsy.

It was already 8:30, in the morning, by time I woke up. I went straight to the kitchen where we ate breakfast in absolute silence. This did not last for long as mama announced that papa needed to speak with me. I went back to my room just for a moment, in order to get my clothes; I was drawn to the sleeping form of the strange man. I went to the bathroom and threw on my clothes in a haste. Luckily, I ran into papa by the doorway. Papa is usually both cheerful and calm, but today, he was neither of these things. He said that he needed to tell me something. Although, I already knew he was keeping a something from me, I did not hurt any less. Papa explained to me that the strange man was the child of a Jewish man that saved his life during World War I. This was the same man that gave papa his prized accordion as a memento. I always had wondered why he kept it since he barely made any money playing it at bars. This made feel unbarably guilty, so he decided to help the man's widows. It was only apporiate to trade a life for a life; therefore, papa made a promise with the soldier's wife to protect their son if the need ever came. And it had. It was then that papa held my hand, whether it was for mine or his own comfort; I do not know. Moments later, papa brought up an old promise we made on Hitler's birthday; I swore to keep a secret for him. I clearly remember papa's daunting message that followed, since his voice suddenly became deep and mature: " 'Liesel if you tell anyone about the man up there, we will all be in big trouble...At the very least mama and I will be taken away...For starters, I will take each and every one of your books-- and I will burn them... I'll throw them in the stove or the fireplace... Understand? Next, they will take you away from me'"(Zusak 203).
I suppose papa wanted to make sure I was hold true to my words. I tried best to comprehend what he was saying, but it seemed as though my mind could not process this information. All I knew was that if I tell anyone about this man, bad things would happen. I guess hiding a Jewish person like Max Vandenburg, was a dangerous business.
The only thing I have left to do is keep an eye on this odd Jewish fellow.

Thievery

July 6, 1940

Dear Journal,

I have been so busy reading my books with papa that it took me over a year to continue writing my entries. Once the second Great War has began, the rationing of all supplies had as well, food in particular. This was definitely a problem Rudy, since he was always hungry before, but now he was to the point of starvation. To make the situation even worse, his father's business was doing quite poorly too. I want to help him out, but the little food we have is a mama's pea soup, which probably would do no good anyways. So, in order to get his mind off of food, Rudy and I went swimming the river. This also happens to be the day that I almost drown after Rudy convinced me that the water was fairly swallow. I nearly escaped death by dog-paddling my way to dry land. And I surely cursed that maniac for putting my life in danger.

It was only a few days later that we gave into our hunger and decided that we had to do something about our diets. Rudy and I just happened to notice a teenage boy with several fresh apples, we knew instantly he was one of those "fruit stealers" and also our only chance for a decent meal. A few days later, we saw that same boy and then followed him to the fruit stealers' hideout, by Amper River. There, we met their leader, Arthur Berg. He and I his fellow thieves examined us from top to bottom. At first, I was really worried that they thought we would be burdens. But once they heard that I was the one that beat up Ludwig Schmeikl and Rudy was the Jesse Owens incident; we were readily accepted. I made sure the rules that Arthur announced: don't get caught on the fence, one person is in the tree, while one person collects and the most vital regulation, is to scream if you see someone coming. In no time, we were ready to put the plan into action; Rudy and I cleared the wire fence without much trouble. This operation went smoothly and when we returned to the hideout Rudy and I received six apples each.

We had to get rid of the apples before we returned home that night; I mean there was no way we were going to explain the apples' origin. There was only one way to do so, we had to eat until we couldn't eat anymore and then find a way keep our self from out of trouble, no matter what happens: "On the river bank where she learned to swim, each apple was disposed of. Unaccustomed to such luxury, they knew it was likely they'd be sick. They ate anyway...the apples, she thought happily. The apples, and she vomited one more time for luck" (Zusak 153). I knew this would happen, but I accepted the consequences of my actions. I certainly did not like throwing up or lying to mama but those apples were worth it. Rudy and I may never have another chance to experience being too full; therefore, I was not willing to let anything, even my own stomach, ruin this.

I still feel a bit sick, so I have to conclude this entry now, but I will promise start writing more often.

My Best Friend

April 20, 1939

Dear Journal,

There were many strange people that lived on Himmel Street including Rudy Steiner, a young that was obsessed with Jesse Owens and Tommy Muller who developed hearing problems after experiencing several ear infections. A couple days after I took my first bathe, mama allowed me to go play with the neighbor kids on the street. They were already playing soccer when I got there. And of course, since I was the new kid, I had to play goalie. Even though, everyone doubted I would be any good, I was able to deflect his penalty shot. However, this earned me a snowball to the face and I responded as my mama would and murmured curses at the idiot.

I was returning school with Rudy waiting on Himmel Street in order to play a game of soccer. We were unfortunately intercepted by old man Pfiffikus, a nickname given for constantly whistling. In order to agonize him, Rudy and I we called out his name in the most demeaning way possible until he chased us down the street scream such foul profanity, makes mama sound like a saint. We ran with all our might until we reached Munich Street, where Rudy challenged me to a race. At first we wanted to bet money, but of course, neither of us had any. Therefore, Rudy decided he wanted a kiss if he won, while if I won, I would no longer play the goalie in soccer. It was neck to neck as we dashed through the alley, only to slid into a mud puddle at the finish line. To find the winner now was impossible, so I decided neither of us would be rewarded. I definitely did not want to kiss Rudy, especially since he's totally covered in what I hope is mud. It was then it registered in my brain, my clothes were a complete mess; mama was going to skin me alive. And she did... though not literally.

Even at the age of nine, I knew blond hair and blue eyes was considered "perfection" in Germany. Rudy was the kind of boy that did care about such trivial matters; he liked who ever wanted, whether or not he was supposed to. This was made apparent during the Jesse Owens incident. In 1936 Olympics, Jesse Owens had just won four gold medals for the US and had the entire world amazed by his talent, Rudy in particular. Rudy decided that he needed to be more like his idol, so he stole charcoal from his fireplace and then rode his bike to Hubert Oval. Rudy rubbed the charcoal all over himself including his hair and then ran in an imaginary race representing his idol. He was on his victory lap by time his father discovered him. It was necessary for him to scold his son. In order to make Rudy understand that portraying a black person in a good light, was risky in Nazi Germany:"'Son, you can't go around painting yourself black...because they'll take you away...because you shouldn't want to be like black people or Jewish people or anyone who... isn't us... you have beautiful blond hair and safe blue eyes. You should be happy with that; is that clear?' But nothing was clear" (Zusak 50-51). Mr. Steiner tried his best to explain to Rudy that some people would hurt him for associating himself with certain groups. He thinks Rudy is lucky that he looks like a pure German, so he should not envy others who must suffer because of what they are. However, even Mr. Steiner does not seem to believe what he says, but as of now this is the safest and therefore the best answer he could give.

I really do not know much about racism and no longer want to indulge in anymore dangerous thoughts.

The Hubermanns & The Book

March 28, 1939

Dear Journal,

I have finally arrived to my new home in Munich; my mother left me with a man that works for the orphanage. I was a bit excited since it was the first time I drove in a car, but what awaits me is worrisome. Today, I will meet my new parents without my brother. I am sure not sure how they will react since they were reassured that they would receive a boy, girl, and allowance for taking care of them. The car suddenly pulled up a small townhouse surrounded by dirty snow and dying trees. There they were, my new parents, the Hubermanns standing by the door. The man was a giant and apparently a smoker, while his clearly annoyed wife was early my height. I was frozen, once I left this car my old life would be behind. I gradually stepped out, but all I could do was cling to the gate, my new security blanket. It only took a few minutes for me to give in to walk inside holding hands with Mr. Hubermann.

It has been a while since I have looked in a mirror; pale, scrawny, bruised are three words that define me quite well. My blond hair was nearly the right color, but the dark brown eyes I possess, a gift from my real papa, was certainly a trait dangerous in Germany. I have never seen my papa; all I know is that he is a "komnmunist." It seems that "kommunists" are bad people; since they are always go away like real papa. Before I know it, evening had already arrived; I was being chased around by my new mama, because I refused to undress and bathe. My papa, on the other hand, was much more understanding, so he allowed me to remain unclean. Instead, he showed me how to roll up cigarettes and then he smoked them.

Hours passed this way, and soon it was already bedtime. The instant I rested my eyes a horrific dream of my brother's lifeless body would sneak up on me. But papa suddenly appeared to comfort me. His presence itself quelled my loneliness, guilt, and confusion. I had spent such little time with the Hubermanns, and yet I felt fairly content with my quiet and caring papa and my foul-mouthed, highly critical mama. Still, I could not help but miss my brother. I used my mattress to hide the mysterious book that I discovered by his grave because it was too precious to lose: "Staring at the letters on the cover and touching the print inside, she had no idea what any of it was saying. The point is, it didn't really matter what that book was about. It was what it meant that was more important"(Zusak 38). My love memories of my real mama and brother are sealed up in there. I may not be able to comprehend all of what's written there, but the comfort it gives me is unparalleled. This entry must conclude here; I have to hurry and hide, or else I will have to bathe.

Introduction to Death

March 25, 1939

Dear Journal,

My name is Leisel Meminger; I am nine year old German girl that lives through World War II in Nazi Germany.

My mother, brother, and I have been waiting for the shuttle to arrive for quite a while. When it finally does, my latent anxiety surfaced once I realized that I would probably never see mama again. This trip was certainly not a vacation, since we are too poor for such luxuries; on the contrary, my brother and I are being adopted. At first, leaving mama's side did not really bother, but now as we are about to depart on our final destination together, I feel nothing less than terrified. I felt slightly drowsy after considering how my life will change. Although, we just left the platform, I feel as though I have on this train for days; or at least I wish it would, and then I could spend more time with mama.

It was already evening time by the stench of cigarette smoke aroused me. This train ride was dreadfully quiet, so much so, I am quite bored. I wish I could sleep again, but nightmares of what is to come kept me in a state of shock. My mother and brother are appear to be asleep, unaffected by the clicking sounds made by the rusting chains or fading brown paint paste on the walls that invaded my senses. The entire place was crowded, so it was not unusual for my hand to graze my brother's mouth. However, I never surprised to find brother not breathing. I squinted my eyes for a better visual; I noticed that everyone else was completely oblivious to his death. In disbelief, I shook, poked, and even cried out to him; however, despite all my efforts, his tiny body remained lifeless. I was too startle to do anything else other than frantically shake mama wake. I was so consumed by grief; I nearly overlooked the snow that was falling. Even though, my ratty clothes were certainly unsuitable, this weather was perfect for such a dreary occasion.

Once the train came to a stop mama carried my brother's corpse off. He was becoming heavier, his arms were swelling, and his skin was never so pale before. At the ceremony, two days later, only three witnesses were present a priest and two graveyard diggers. In a state of confusion, my actions became erratic, "Her knees entered the ground. Her moment had arrived. Still in disbelief, she started to dig. He couldn't be dead....She realized that her mother had come back for her...She was being dragged away. A warm scream filled her throat. When the dragging was done...only the girl saw it ... the book with silver writing on it"(Zusak 23-24). At that point, I could no longer hold back my emotions; I did not want him to be dead. My brother did not deserve to die; we were so close to a new home where we would no longer be poor. As my mother dragged me away, I couldn't stop myself from screaming; I finally understood that he was never coming back. Even though, mama abandoning us was hurtful, my brother leaving me behind was excruciating. It was then that I saw a small book hidden beneath the snow, a memento of my brother death I presume. I can only wonder how my new parents will react to the news. I must conclude my entry now. If mama was ever to see me with a book, unnecessary question would arise.