camiandkitread's reviews
357 reviews

A lot of books get called a “modern classic” but in the case of “The Book Thief” it’s completely justified. Markus Zusak wrote a story that everyone should read at least once in their lives. 

As is often the case with historical fiction, it can be difficult for an author to work in their research and make sure the characters sound believable to their time period. I’m often pulled out of books because the author couldn’t manage it but never had that problem with Zusak’s work. Everything felt so authentic that I felt like I was walking with Death—our narrator—as he told me the story of Liesel Meminger and Himmel Street and collected the souls of so many who died during World War II. 

“The Book Thief” manages to blend timeless childhood experiences— playing soccer with your friends, standing up to bullies, having a crush on your best friend—with the harsh realities of war—not having enough to eat, fearing the next air raid, struggling to keep your loved ones safe while still doing the right thing. The conversational narrative tone told the story in a mostly chronological order but gave hints or small spoilers as the story unfolded, leaving the reader to simultaneously eagerly anticipate and dread the final chapter and the epilogue. 

The themes of Zusak’s debut novel stay with the reader long after they’ve closed the book or stopped the audiobook. The primary theme is the power of words, of course. The duality of humans, capable of such kindness and cruelty, is another key theme. There are both small and large acts of kindness woven through the story and the same with cruelty. It’s something the characters constantly have to overcome, and something for the reader to reflect upon. 

There’s so much to say about “The Book Thief,” but I’m no Liesel or Max so my words would be ineffective. I highly recommend you read, or even reread, “The Book Thief” for yourself and experience the story. 

Although titled “The Boys in the Boat: Nine Americans and Their Epic Quest for Gold at the 1936 Berlin Olympics,” the book primarily focuses on one boy in the boat—Joe  Rantz. 

Brown wrote a compelling biography of Rantz, retelling his Cinderella story from an abandoned child to an an American Olympian in one of the most politically important Olympics in history. His commentary about how the Nazis meticulously weaponized the 1936 Olympics to “legitimize” themselves to other countries was particularly interesting. However, I didn’t feel that I really learned anything about the other eight Americans and their epic quest for gold until the epilogue, which summarized their lives after the Berlin Olympics. 

I was extremely excited to read “The Boys in the Boat” because I thought it would spend more time analyzing the political motivations of the 1936 Olympics, specifically if and how American athleticism was leveraged against the Nazis. The boycott of the 1980 Summer Olympics and the use of American and Canadian athletic exceptionalism to make a statement again the Soviet Union is a very interesting part of history and I see some parallels between those Olympic Games and the 1936 Berlin Olympics, but I hoped for a book that Brown did not write. 

“The Boys in the Boat” was a mildly interesting read, with plenty of heartwarming and heartbreaking moments alike. It gave an excellent biography of Joe Rantz and touched on the unique difficulties that college athletes faced during the Great Depression, such as finding enough food to fuel themselves. Interesting background about the machinations of the Nazis’ plan to showcase themselves as civilized, athletic super men to the other world powers gave an interesting juxtaposition to the comparatively small scale machinations of the University of Washington crew coach to assemble a team capable of going to the Olympics. 

Not for me. 

This was a book I read in college for one of my courses and thought was relevant enough to my field to keep. As I’ve been slowly making my way through my bookshelves, revisiting books I haven’t read in years, I finally got around to “A Misplaced Massacre.” While the topic remains important and interesting, years of experience in the field has shown me that this isn’t a book I need to reread or to keep. 

I wasn’t initially sure I was going to finish “Code Name Verity.” It took a while, maybe 75 pages or so before I got hooked on the story and wanted to know what came next.

It’s dark and upsetting—and I study WWII history for work and for pleasure. It’s a work of fiction but so well researched and authentic in its delivery that you know that the events aren’t just probable, it’s very likely—almost guaranteed—that they happened to many people during the war. There is a recurring theme of hope and resilience through the book that makes the difficult parts more bearable and that keeps you hooked to know what comes next.

In all, "Code Name Verity" was masterfully written and is an excellent book but a difficult one to say if I actually liked it. I was on the edge of my seat after the book found its rhythm but it gave me horrible nightmares after finishing it.

I've had "A Midwife's Tale" on my bookshelf since 2013 and decided that it was high time I read it and got it off my TBR. Since I'd had it for so long, I admit that I went into it thinking that it was a transcription of Martha Ballard's diary (even though the title says otherwise) and was pleasantly surprised that it was not the case.

Laurel Thatcher Ulrich used Ballard's diary to speak about what life was like not only for Ballard and midwives but also for women in eighteenth-century Maine. Ulrich used a variety of other primary sources from Ballard's neighbors and clients to present a more complete look at Ballard's life. 

"A Midwife's Tale" is a solid nonfiction choice for anyone with an interest in eighteenth-century women's history but keep in mind that the medical content in the book does get a little graphic in some parts.