The Book Thieves Review Novels & Stories

Motherfucker. That was the reason second chances weren’t worth giving. Adrian was smart, too smart. And he hid behind the Nikolaev family. It was the reason it took us so long to figure out who kept hacking our system, copying our data, and then taunting us with the sins we’d committed. Nobody in the underworld was innocent.

The malevolent voice laughed. In the morning, a group of girls on a road trip had stopped the car before the shed. The ancient-looking open book had caught their attention. The driver got down and headed towards the book while the other girls called her back, but she kept going. Then she stopped and read the heading. "Guys, it's a gamebook." She said to her friends. "It looks interesting." The girls left the car and curiously approached their friend who had picked up the book. "It's creepy." One of them said and snatched it. "Can't you see how it looks? Please let's just bury it and go away."

Leila said. The more the three of them said, the more they felt everything was slipping away from their hands. "If they were good people with good intentions they wouldn't have stolen the book. And I can't find any other person who would want that book to know about our family if it weren't the enemies," Elana said. "Yes. They could have read the book and then returned it to the old woman. If the woman had misplaced it and not stolen it, the person who found it should have returned it to our grandparents. After all, everyone there knows about the book and who it belongs to," Leila added.

The reviews began arriving on Thursday. Patricia Osei had told me to read them but not to organize my understanding of the book around them because the book had been written for the women in the long middle and the women in the long middle were not the reviewers. The reviewers were the first room the book passed through on its way to the people it was for. The first review I read was from a literary publication that described the book as unflinching and specific and written with the particular authority of someone who had lived inside the thing she was describing rather than observing it from outside.

But if I told them the truth, maybe they would take me back to Thornwood. “A werewolf.” I said as loud as I could muster. Collective gasps broke out around me. Gasps of shock and disdain. I dragged my gaze around, confused by their reaction. Wait, he did say this was the ‘Dragon Keep’. The memory of when I came across a book about Dragons rushed into my mind. “...dragons are egoistic creatures who think they're better than everyone. They hung our kind for sport. They're monsters, Eloise…” Mae had told me that day.

“It’s you—the thief. Again!” She tried to slam the door, but Kelly wedged his hand in and held it. He lifted the book so she could see it. “This is it,” he said through clenched teeth. “I took it because I was curious—and to work on my cooking. I borrowed it. I’m returning it now. Stop calling me a thief. Sheila gave it to me.” Rose snatched the book, glared at him, and curled her lip. “You’re not just a thief. You’re a liar. Fuck off, bastard.”

There was not even a single task their sages assigned them to do. Clara was humming to herself when her eyes spotted the red leather-bound book she stole in the hidden room beneath the redwood. Until now, she was wincing at the idea that she managed to steal a book that wasn’t hers. Over and over, she tried to console herself that she only borrowed it and would eventually return it once she was done.

As they watched Sherly, Maria, and Kim deftly navigate through the crowd, deflecting questions and evading prying eyes with ease, George couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for their skill and cunning. They really couldn't help but admire them for their skills. It is no wonder they're part of the most successful organization in the whole underworld. Even in other countries, they tried to imitate them but failed to do so. "You have to hand it to them," George remarked, his tone tinged with respect. "The boss of the Information Center is not someone to be underestimated. With her intellect and resourcefulness, it's only a matter of time before these people scatter like ants." George d

We never got to see how they lived happily though, but the smile in the last scene after which the The End, flew or swivelled or zoomed in, made it obvious. Nisim did tell me later that The Thief was a short story and short stories ended that way! It was five pages long, much longer than the stories in the book Deuta had gifted me on my eleventh Birthday – Aesop’s Fables – the stories in this book were never more than two pages. And always with a moral at the end. The Thief didn’t have a moral – that was the best part though – I never liked memorizing morals. But the thing was, my brother was calling the longest story I had read till then, a short story! By then, though, I had some idea of a

“Sure thing, sweetie. I’ll bring it right up.” “Thanks Etsu.” “No problem, kiddo. And the tarts on the house.” As Etsu walked over to serve the other guy Caitlynn reached into her bag and pulled out her book. For today it was The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. She turned to her bookmark, slipped it out and began reading from page 193. Her gaze swept across the pages, dark brown eyes drinking in every word in the tale told by Death. She loved this book because the characters intrigued her, most specifically the main protagonist, Liesel.