THE BOOK THIEF: A REVIEW

           There’s a truth to be learnt from movies like The Book Thief (2013) that in a trying time like the World War II and Nazi aggression humanity still somehow manages to survive, and survive almost heroically. At a time when the whirlwind of extreme racial hatred, dictatorial insecurity, and authoritarian violence was sweeping across Germany, possibility of keeping one’s human dignity, grace and honour appeared remote and obscure. Scared, beaten and bruised, people looked helpless and almost resigned to their fates. But then life is not about defeats and failures alone. There are moments of glory and real triumphs even in the lives of those who are not heroes whose outward counteraction has not been recorded in the annals of men. Ordinary people, though scared and anxious, can still fight back and fight back hard by reminding us that after all we are still human beings, that people are still capable of silent fortitude even in the face of extreme adversity. They remind us that we still love the simple tune of a lullaby, that we still get enough pleasure in reading books, that we still love to share the world through crystallized words, that we still get thrilled to witness the world through someone else's eyes. How precious, how joyfully precious they all appear. All those things that we tend to consider normal and take for granted appear so outlandish that we might even question their veracity. The story perhaps tells us how fortunate we are, how dear our freedom is.  As you watch the movie you become a part of that milieu. You soon discover within yourself a deep sense of loss. A pervading sadness girdles around your consciousness like a ring of truth. Amidst all this highly confusing emotions you wonder how you have started nourishing a profound sense of belonging. Art’s healing touch restores our faith in life and magic. There’s an unacknowledged hero in every ordinary (wo)man who remains at the margins of our consciousness. At a time when heroes turn into all-engulfing evil, when everyone in the society becomes a vulgar flag-waver of the dictator, the greatest challenge for anyone appears to be still in love with words like ‘love’, ‘truth’ and ‘beauty’. It’s not that they’ve learnt it from some great book of knowledge. It’s there already in them, almost as an intrinsic quality. It’s something that emanates from the personal level and goes on to touch and connect others in a unique and ancient way. The common man who refuses to join in, the young boy who wants to run like Jesse Owens, the stern looking stepmother who is not prepared give up on the man she has been hiding in her basement, the young man who comes out to the deserted streets and blesses god for creating this starry arch at a time of air raid are all that you treasure as a part of your memory for they have become parts of your being. Aristotle was absolutely correct in saying that “Memory is the scribe of the soul”. The success of The Book Thief lies in its ability to remind and reiterate the strength of our simple humanity through its wonderful use of memories. It explores spirit of our time through memories of countless men and women whose fortitude seldom gets noticed in the books of history.

         At a time when our own land and people are increasingly getting drawn into an atmosphere of dictatorial megalomania, the movie comes as a ray of hope shooting through the darkness of our occupied consciousness. Hope it brings consciousness back in some of us. Hope we learn something from our own simple humanity.