Tip:
Highlight text to annotate it
X
Welcome to World Book Night America
World Book Night is an annual celebration designed to spread a love of reading and books.
To be held in the U.S. as well as the U.K. and Ireland on April 23, 2012. It will see
tens of thousands of people go out into their communities to spread the joy and love of
reading by giving out free World Book Night paperbacks. Successfully launched in the U.K.
in 2011, World Book Night premiered this year in the U.S. April 23rd was chosen as it is
UNESCO’s World Book Day, as well as the anniversary of Cervantes’ death, and Shakespeare’s
birth and death.
This year I was accepted as a giver and I couldn’t be more excited to share The Book
Thief by Markus Zusak. In addition to roaming campus to give books to those students I have
never seen in the near vicinity of the Library, I decided to make this short video of myself
reading the Prologue from the book in UNCP’s Second Life library. I hope it encourages
you to pick up this book, or any book, and read.
PROLOGUE
a mountain range of rubble
in which our narrator introduces: himself--the colors--and the book thief DEATH AND CHOCOLATE
First the colors.
Then the humans.
That's usually how I see things.
Or at least, how I try.
HERE IS A SMALL FACT
You are going to die.
I am in all truthfulness attempting to be cheerful about this whole topic, though most
people find themselves hindered in believing me, no matter my protestations. Please, trust
me. I most definitely can be cheerful. I can be amiable. Agreeable. Affable. And that's
only the A's. Just don't ask me to be nice. Nice has nothing to do with me.
REACTION TO THE
AFOREMENTIONED FACT
Does this worry you?
I urge you--don't be afraid.
I'm nothing if not fair.
--Of course, an introduction.
A beginning.
Where are my manners?
I could introduce myself properly, but it's not really necessary. You will know me well
enough and soon enough, depending on a diverse range of variables. It suffices to say that
at some point in time, I will be standing over you, as genially as possible. Your soul
will be in my arms. A color will be perched on my shoulder. I will carry you gently away.
At that moment, you will be lying there (I rarely find people standing up). You will
be caked in your own body. There might be a discovery; a scream will dribble down the
air. The only sound I'll hear after that will be my own breathing, and the sound of the
smell, of my footsteps.
The question is, what color will everything be at that moment when I come for you? What
will the sky be saying?
Personally, I like a chocolate-colored sky. Dark, dark chocolate. People say it suits
me. I do, however, try to enjoy every color I see--the whole spectrum. A billion or so
flavors, none of them quite the same, and a sky to slowly suck on. It takes the edge
off the stress. It helps me relax.
A SMALL THEORY
People observe the colors of a day only at its beginnings and
ends, but to me it's quite clear that a day merges through a multitude of shades and intonations,
with each passing
moment. A single hour can consist of thousands of different
colors. Waxy yellows, cloud-spat blues. Murky darknesses.
In my line of work, I make it a point to notice them.
As I've been alluding to, my one saving grace is distraction. It keeps me sane. It helps
me cope, considering the length of time I've been performing this job. The trouble is,
who could ever replace me? Who could step in while I take a break in your stock-standard
resort-style vacation destination, whether it be tropical or of the ski trip variety?
The answer, of course, is nobody, which has prompted me to make a conscious, deliberate
decision--to make distraction my vacation. Needless to say, I vacation in increments.
In colors.
Still, it's possible that you might be asking, why does he even need a vacation? What does
he need distraction from?
Which brings me to my next point.
It's the leftover humans.
The survivors.
They're the ones I can't stand to look at, although on many occasions I still fail. I
deliberately seek out the colors to keep my mind off them, but now and then, I witness
the ones who are left behind, crumbling among the jigsaw puzzle of realization, despair,
and surprise. They have punctured hearts. They have beaten lungs.
Which in turn brings me to the subject I am telling you about tonight, or today, or whatever
the hour and color. It's the story of one of those perpetual survivors--an expert at
being left behind.
It's just a small story really, about, among other things:
? A girl
? Some words
? An accordionist
? Some fanatical Germans
? A Jewish fist fighter
? And quite a lot of thievery
I saw the book thief three times.
Thanks for listening and I hope to see you in the Library soon! Like us on our UNCP Library
Facebook page, or follow us on Twitter @uncplibrary. You can follow me at @unclassifiable_ or on
Facebook as The Unclassifiable Librarian. Follow my Second Life adventures on Facebook
on my Aurora Tutti page.