Markus Zusak...

... is brilliant. I tried to start this post in various ways. More interesting, engaging ways. But the truth is, nothing but that simple sentence felt quite right.

Back when The Book Thief came out, in 2006, I couldn't help but pick it up. It was narrated by Death. It was beautiful. And heartbreaking. It became one of my favourite books of all time before I even turned the last page. I vowed to read another of Zusak's books. And--in my usual manner--promptly forgot.

Until the other day, that is, when I picked up a copy of I Am the Messenger, which was on very good sale at a local independent bookstore. I had thought that it didn't look nearly as promising as The Book Thief, but I bought it anyhow. It was absolutely amazing. Poetic. Meaningful. It made me laugh out loud. It made me cry. It made me think. I finished it quickly, and--much to the amusement and possible annoyance of my mum--the following hours (even days, now I think on it) were punctuated by sudden proclamations of: "Oh my god, that book was fantastic!"

When you get right down to it, precious few authors have impacted me so.
Zusak's style of writing is beautiful and unlike anything else I've read.
His stories ring true. They remind me of breathing. And life. If that makes sense. Or even if it doesn't.

So anyhow... if you need something to read, by all means, pick up a a book by Markus Zusak.

"Usually, we walk around constantly believing ourselves. 'I'm okay,' we say. 'I'm all right.' But sometimes the truth arrives on you, and you can't get it off."
-- from I Am the Messenger, by Markus Zusak (That quotation really struck me... I would include one from The Book Thief, as well, but I lent my copy to somebody and haven't got it back yet)

Admiringly, praise-singingly, and yours

Multitasking.

You know that kid who can skateboard down the street, texting, with music pumping into one ear and a wireless headset in the other?

That's definitely not me.
Let me explain.

Last night, I was eating salad. It had a lot of vinegar on it, because vinegar is delicious. While I ate it, I was reading I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone by Stephanie Kuehnert. It's an awesome book (like, amazing... it renewed my practically futile rock-band aspirations), just as Stephanie is an awesome person (we met her on Friday through Not Your Mother's Book Club). Needless to say, I wasn't paying attention to my salad. So when a piece of lettuce flipped a hearty amount of vinegar into my eye, I was both in serious pain as well as just seriously embarrassed. I mean, really. Am I so inept that I can't eat and read at the same time? It's not that I ever (everever) want to become the texting/skateboarding/talking on the phone/ipod worshipping/ignoring the people around me girl wonder. But it would be great if I could read while eating dinner without launching an acidic substance into my eye.

Walking down the street and reading, though? I've got that one down. I've yet to walk into a pole (*cough*Eli*cough*) while doing so.


Relatively inept, reading constantly, and yours,

Hallo.

Hallo everyone!
I'm alive.
Isn't it wonderful?
Anyhow...well, I suppose that's all for now.

Getting used to being called by her real name...