Page 184 - The Book Thief
P. 184
A SHORT HISTORY OF THE JEWISH FIST FIGHTER
Max Vandenburg was born in 1916.
He grew up in Stuttgart.
When he was younger, he grew to love nothing more than a good fistfight.
He had his first bout when he was eleven years old and skinny as a whittled
broom handle.
Wenzel Gruber.
Thats who he fought.
He had a smart mouth, that Gruber kid, and wire-curly hair. The local
playground demanded that they fight, and neither boy was about to argue.
They fought like champions.
For a minute.
Just when it was getting interesting, both boys were hauled away by their collars.
A watchful parent.
A trickle of blood was dripping from Maxs mouth.
He tasted it, and it tasted good.
Not many people who came from his neighborhood were fighters, and if they
were, they didnt do it with their fists. In those days, they said the Jews preferred
to simply stand and take things. Take the abuse quietly and then work their way
back to the top. Obviously, every Jew is not the same.
He was nearly two years old when his father died, shot to pieces on a grassy hill.
