What's your favorite book?
A simple question with a complicated answer. If you were to ask me, I would simply direct you to my bookshelves; any book still sitting there is most likely on the list. My favorite book is always changing, as the tides change with the sun's crossing across the horizon far beyond our reach. Any list that I could make of my favorites would include most, if not all, of the selections which I have perused. Some are so worn that their spines bear the marks of many a thumb-urning, while others have only been read once and then kept in their place of honor amidst the shelves. (My special edition of Fangirl is, admittedly, in the latter category.) That doesn't mean I love them any less, however, and eventually I will circle back to a book that I haven't read just to remember the cozy feeling it lights within my heart.
Books are more than an escape. They are a miracle, a world built entirely of ink placed upon a page. If you get close enough, you can feel a person's heart through them. Through those words, it's possible to feel a faint rumbling even amidst a deathly silence. It is impossible to be truly alone amongst books, for they are the foundation of our knowledge.
Belief systems, culture. People, in all of their glorious and imperfect facets. These are the things which books represent, and it is where I found glimmers of myself until I was unearthed to breathe.
If my little impassioned speech sparked anything, then keep reading. This review centers on one of the books which always makes my elusive top ten list. The Librarian of Burned Books by Brianna Labuskes.
Ideal for fans of The Rose Code and Miss Morgan's Book Brigade.
The power of books can triumph over everything, even the darkest moments of war. This belief is made true in The Librarian of Burned Books, a historical novel intertwining the fates of three women. Hannah Brecht (in 1936) is a German Jew, a lesbian, who fled to Paris and works with the Communist Party there to oppose Hitler's rise to power. Althea James is an American author visiting Germany in 1933, who discovers that her hosts are wolves in sheep's clothing while her heart gives itself to Hannah. Vivian Childs is a war widow, fighting against censorship laws that would handcuff her organization's ability to send books to overseas soldiers.
Books can build bridges where there had previously been none, those stories forming connections while bringing laughter and solace. It is this belief which fuels Vivian Childs' mission to continue bringing books to soldiers serving overseas. Her late husband conveys the truth of this even through his letters. It is this same principle which allows Althea James to travel to Berlin in late 1932, herself a beacon of how books are the backbone of a society.
In the early 1930s, Berlin was home to a thriving queer community that is depicted here with every ounce of pictorial ink it deserves. The characters are strong as they fight in their respective homes to safeguard books for all people, the story thought-provoking in just the right way with a lesbian romance.
The Librarian of Burned Books has earned a place of honor on my shelf, for sure!
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