Markus Zusak, Three Wild Dogs (and the Truth), HarperCollins 2024


You pull down books from the library shelves that might stand a chance. Later, unrushed, you ripple their pages and think, No. Or you take a better look, maybe dive in.

This one, I dove way early—and in the light from the bed lamp, shaking off the water, I yawned and hugged my head happily. The only photo I have, though, is from the Monday morning I finished. Past the windows the night blue of the sky, the same magical shade as the book’s dust jacket, had gone pale, rinsed of its stars.

Baffling, perhaps—this used-to-be-dog-scorner lapping up some man’s whole long love story about his enormous, marauding pets.

Grandgirl, the one who’s 13, keeps saying The Book Thief—it’s also by Zusak—is so-o-o-o-o-o good. If a person already saw the movie, must they read the story? I think they must.

 


 

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