Bridge of Clay by Markus Zusak

I read Bridge of Clay last Christmas. It was my last book for 2021 (I still have 2 and a half books planned for this year) and so, a year later, here are a few words about it.

First an anecdote about getting the book right before Christmas:

I ordered it through Raamatuvahetus to be delivered to a self-pickup station. Because of the holiday season, all the slots were full and two ladies were handing out the overflow packages from big boxes. To get my package one of them asked me for my name. I gave it with the additional information, that it was a book-sized package. She went straight to one of the containers, picked out the right package (that did only have my number and not a name) and handed it to me saying: “This is the only book. People don’t read anymore”.

That was kind of sad and weird. But well, here I am, still reading books.

I came to the book, and Zusak, as probably many do – because I loved The Book Thief, which I read almost a decade ago.

I started it on Christmas Eve. I read it at home, on the train across 240km, in the bathtub and in my childhood bed. Finished it on the 26th with a lot of tears. And though I like underlining sentences and passages in books, this one, all 500-something pages of it, flew by without me being able to take a break to get a pen.

It is wonderfully written, far away from my experiences in life, and described as: The breathtaking story of five brothers who bring each other up in a world run by their own rules. As the Dunbar boys love and fight and learn to reckon with the adult world, they discover the moving secret behind their father’s disappearance.

Well, I am an adult, an only child and know where my father disappeared to, but somehow the story of five boys felt very close to home. But I guess that is what makes a book wonderful – the ability for you to live another life and still find lessons to apply to your own.

Heartbreaking and hopeful – as a book should be. In my opinion 🙂