I had an inkling I would enjoy this book. I was convinced by the publisher's review to chance it:

"The story of The Boy in the Striped Pajamas is very difficult to describe. Usually we give some information about the audiobook, but in this case we think that would spoil the listening. We think it's important that you start to listen without knowing what it is about.

If you do start to listen, you will go on a journey with a nine-year-old boy named Bruno. (Though this isn't a story for nine-year-olds.) And sooner or later, you will arrive with Bruno at the fence.

Fences like this exist all over the world. We hope that you never have to encounter such a fence."


*
Based on the publisher's review, I thought I would like the book, but I had no idea it would leave me breathless with its power and beauty. I love it when that happens.

I love to read a book so stunning it makes me wonder whether or not I'll ever find another book in the world as well-crafted and as moving ever again. The sort of book that makes me want to go in search of yet another book that will have the same impact -- a book I need to find right away. But then again, I realize I can't make that book materialize, and so I resign myself to waiting for it to fall into my hands. I recognize that if I just continue to read -- one book after the other -- I'll eventually find another that will rock my world. But sometimes I wonder how long I'll have to wait. And when that book finally floats into my life -- could be a month, could be a year, could be two years -- I hold it innocently in my hands. I have no idea my life is about to change once again. I have no idea that this is the book I've been longing for.

*
I finished The Boy In the Striped Pajamas around 1 o'clock in the morning. Andrew was fast asleep at that point, but I felt a strong urge to wake him up and tell him about this particular book journey -- I wanted to tell him how it ended. I agree with the publisher. The book resists summarization. You want to skip right to the end, and then you spoil it for everyone who doesn't like to be told how a book ends before they've even begun. Then I got to thinking that waking him up at one in the morning wouldn't be such a nice thing to do after all.

I mention, with some degree of caution, that they're making a movie based on this book as well. I take a cautionary tone because a writer I admire very much told me that whenever she gives readings at least one person at every reading says that her book would make a great movie.

"As if the book itself isn't sufficient," she said. "As though the book isn't worth reading unless it's been made into a film, too."