“Reading is an exercise in empathy; an exercise in walking in someone else’s shoes for a while.” —Marjorie Blackman
You can say that again, Marjorie. Reading is so much more than the act of turning pages. It’s bigger than words themselves, much as I love them. Books are transportation. How did Anna Quindlen put it? “Books are the plane, and the train, and the road. They are the destination, and the journey.” Of course, not all journeys are marked by ease. Some are downright difficult. I’m always a little surprised when I hear someone say they don’t want to read about anything difficult. Or disturbing. Because books mirror life—the good, the bad, and the ugly. I’m with Anne Friedman, “By putting ourselves in others’ shoes, by being enveloped in a good book, we exercise the understanding and critical-thinking muscles that we need to make good choices in everything we do—from the votes we cast, to the policies we support, to the stances we take.” Books are a telescope. They allow us to see from afar, to gain much needed understanding and gather perspective.
I’m grateful I got to walk in Gretel Fernsby’s shoes for a while. As one who has not read The Boy in Striped Pajamas (gasp), I was unaware of Bruno and his Commandant father and family living in Auschwitz’s literal shadows. Gretel’s story can be read independent of her brother Bruno’s. (They intertwine of course.) And while twelve-year-old Gretel escaped from Germany, she never could leave “that other place” behind. Memories hang heavy. Boyne’s narrative timeline zigzags between the young protagonist who is not completely naïve to Nazism, to the flawed widow in her 90s who grapples with complicity and guilt. Will her past and present meet head-on? Can Gretel atone for her perceived part in her brother’s death? You’ll have to try on her shoes to sense the pain that was passed onto her. When I climbed into her skin, I felt her unease. I felt regret and resolve. Hope, fear, and uncertainty. There was wisdom. I, too, craved redemption. Reading Gretel’s story made me long to hear Bruno’s—I imagine it will be far more difficult to squeeze into his size fives. But understanding is always worth it. In a world where empathy is in short supply, I pray we can all lean into and learn from thoughtful books.
P.S. Listening to All the Broken Places introduced me to the award-winning audible narrator, Helen Lloyd—she was gravy for the brain!
