Liesel would wake up in the basement hearing the accordion in her ears or taste the “sweet burn of champagne on her tongue.” Sometimes she would feel the rough texture on the walls and think of her papa’s hands. She also thinks of laughter and fresh jam on bread.
Liesel and her papa had a special relationship. She never had a person to call father and the only thing she knew about him was that he was taken away for being a “communist”. It’s only years later she remembers and sees the bad connotation that the new regime has given the word. “Communisten”.. Her new papa had strange eyes.
Liesel observed the strangeness of her foster father’s eyes. They were made of kindness, and silver. […] Upon seeing those eyes, understood that Hans Hubermann was worth a lot.
The silver color of his eyes is mentioned throughout the book – up until the man’s death, when the silver fades into a blur. Different eyes have different colours. The colour of marshes is Max, the colour of chlorine is her mama and Rudy – the blue eyes like the sky. But her papa is silver and his soul is golden. His heart is breaking as he watches this little orphan write letter after letter to her missing mama and he can’t bring himself to tell her she will never receive a reply. Her mama was taken too… probably dead.
“You know, Liesel? I nearly wrote you a reply and signed your mother’s name. […] But I couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself.”
The best gift he had given her (much like the Giver) was the power of books. Whenever Liesel would wake up from a nightmare, he would sit with her and read.
Unofficially, it was called the midnight class, even though it commenced at around two in the morning.
He was saddened when she reached 13 and told him that she will try not to wake him anymore but he understood that the girl was growing up and the night sessions, that have both tired him and taught Liesel would end. But he did manage to give her the gift of literacy and taught the girl to read.
So what is happiness? From the eye of an orphan girl clutching a stolen book about the gravedigger’s motos, it was a family, a house on Himmel street, a word, a book, a world.