Liesel’s Secret, Papa’s Vision, and the Birth of an Indestructible Idea

The thrill of being ignored!‎The book felt cool enough now to slip inside her uniform. At first, it was nice and warm against her chest. As‎she began walking, though, it began to heat up again.‎By the time she made it back to Papa and Wolfgang Edel, the book was starting to burn her. It seemed to be‎igniting.‎Both men looked at her.‎She smiled.‎Immediately, when the smile shrank from her lips, she could feel something else. Or more to the point, someone‎else. There was no mistaking the watched feeling. It was all over her, and it was confirmed when she dared to‎face the shadows over at the town hall. To the side of the collection of silhouettes, another one stood, a few‎meters removed, and Liesel realized two things.‎A FEW SMALL PIECES‎OF RECOGNITION‎1. The shadow’s identity and ‎2. The fact that it had seen everything‎The shadow’s hands were in its coat pockets.‎It had fluffy hair.‎If it had a face, the expression on it would have been one of injury.‎“Gottverdammt,” Liesel said, only loud enough for herself. “Goddamn it.”‎“Are we ready to go?”‎In the previous moments of stupendous danger, Papa had said goodbye to Wolfgang Edel and was ready to‎accompany Liesel home.‎“Ready,” she answered.‎They began to leave the scene of the crime, and the book was well and truly burning her now. The Shoulder‎Shrug had applied itself to her rib cage.‎As they walked past the precarious town hall shadows, the book thief winced.‎“What’s wrong?” Papa asked.‎“Nothing.”‎Quite a few things, however, were most definitely wrong:‎Smoke was rising out of Liesel’s collar.A necklace of sweat had formed around her throat.‎Beneath her shirt, a book was eating her up.Mein Kampf.‎The book penned by the Führer himself.‎It was the third book of great importance to reach Liesel Meminger; only this time, she did not steal it. The‎book showed up at 33 Himmel Street perhaps an hour after Liesel had drifted back to sleep from her obligatory‎nightmare.‎Some would say it was a miracle that she ever owned that book at all.‎Its journey began on the way home, the night of the fire.‎They were nearly halfway back to Himmel Street when Liesel could no longer take it. She bent over and‎removed the smoking book, allowing it to hop sheepishly from hand to hand.‎When it had cooled sufficiently, they both watched it a moment, waiting for the words.‎Papa: “What the hell do you call that?”‎He reached over and grabbed hold of The Shoulder Shrug. No explanation was required. It was obvious that the‎girl had stolen it from the fire. The book was hot and wet, blue and red—embarrassed—and Hans Hubermann‎opened it up. Pages thirty-eight and thirty-nine. “Another one?”‎Liesel rubbed her ribs.‎Yes.‎Another one.‎“Looks like,” Papa suggested, “I don’t need to trade any more cigarettes, do I? Not when you’re stealing these‎things as fast as I can buy them.”‎Liesel, by comparison, did not speak. Perhaps it was her first realization that criminality spoke best for itself.‎Irrefutable.‎Papa studied the title, probably wondering exactly what kind of threat this book posed to the hearts and minds‎of the German people. He handed it back. Something happened.‎“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.” Each word fell away at its edges. It broke off and formed the next.‎The criminal could no longer resist. “What, Papa? What is it?”‎“Of course.”‎Like most humans in the grip of revelation, Hans Hubermann stood with a certain numbness. The next words‎would either be shouted or would not make it past his teeth. Also, they would most likely be a repetition of the‎last thing he’d said, only moments earlier.“Of course.”‎This time, his voice was like a fist, freshly banged on the table.‎The man was seeing something. He was watching it quickly, end to end, like a race, but it was too high and too‎far away for Liesel to see. She begged him. “Come on, Papa, what is it?” She fretted that he would tell Mama‎about the book. As humans do, this was all about her. “Are you going to tell?”‎“Sorry?”‎“You know. Are you going to tell Mama?”‎Hans Hubermann still watched, tall and distant. “About what?”‎She raised the book. “This.” She brandished it in the air, as if waving a gun.‎Papa was bewildered. “Why would I?”‎She hated questions like that. They forced her to admit an ugly truth, to reveal her own filthy, thieving nature.‎“Because I stole again.”‎Papa bent himself to a crouching position, then rose and placed his hand on her head. He stroked her hair with‎his rough, long fingers and said, “Of course not, Liesel. You are safe.”‎“So what are you going to do?”‎That was the question.‎What marvelous act was Hans Hubermann about to produce from the thin Munich Street air?‎Before I show you, I think we should first take a look at what he was seeing prior to his decision.‎PAPA’S FAST-PACED VISIONS First, he sees the girl’s books: The Grave Digger’s Handbook, Faust the‎Dog, The Lighthouse, and now The Shoulder Shrug. Next is a kitchen and a volatile Hans Junior,‎regarding those books on the table, where the girl often reads. He speaks: “And what trash is this girl‎reading?” His son repeats the question three times, after which he makes his suggestion for more‎appropriate reading material.‎“Listen, Liesel.” Papa placed his arm around her and walked her on. “This is our secret, this book. We’ll read it‎at night or in the basement, just like the others—but you have to promise me something.”‎“Anything, Papa.”‎The night was smooth and still. Everything listened. “If I ever ask you to keep a secret for me, you will do it.”‎“I promise.”‎“Good. Now come on. If we’re any later, Mama will kill us, and we don’t want that, do we? No more book‎stealing then, huh?”‎Liesel grinned.What she didn’t know until later was that within the next few days, her foster father managed to trade some‎cigarettes for another book, although this one was not for her. He knocked on the door of the Nazi Party office‎in Molching and took the opportunity to ask about his membership application. Once this was discussed, he‎proceeded to give them his last scraps of money and a dozen cigarettes. In return, he received a used copy of‎Mein Kampf. ‎“Happy reading,” said one of the party members.‎“Thank you.” Hans nodded.‎From the street, he could still hear the men inside. One of the voices was particularly clear. “He will never be‎approved,” it said, “even if he buys a hundred copies of Mein Kampf. ” The statement was unanimously agreed‎upon.‎Hans held the book in his right hand, thinking about postage money, a cigaretteless existence, and the foster‎daughter who had given him this brilliant idea.‎“Thank you,” he repeated, to which a passerby inquired as to what he’d said.‎With typical affability, Hans replied, “Nothing, my good man, nothing at all. Heil Hitler,” and he walked down‎Munich Street, holding the pages of the Führer.‎There must have been a good share of mixed feelings at that moment, for Hans Hubermann’s idea had not only‎sprung from Liesel, but from his son. Did he already fear he’d never see him again? On the other hand, he was‎also enjoying the ecstasy of an idea, not daring just yet to envision its complications, dangers, and vicious‎absurdities. For now, the idea was enough. It was indestructible. Transforming it into reality, well, that was‎something else altogether. For now, though, let’s let him enjoy it.‎We’ll give him seven months.‎Then we come for him.‎And oh, how we come.‎

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