As I completed the last words in this book, I just sat for a few minutes. That’s always been the power of great books, they force you to think and reflect on everything.

This book just makes you appreciate the goodness of humanity. It feels strange even writing these words. This is a book about Germans living in World War 2 is narrated none other than Death.

Yes. You heard that right. This is a book that is from Death’s point of view, how he goes about picking up souls whilst trying to distract himself from his job by noticing the colours of the sky. He does not enjoy his work, but you know, it’s a job that he has to do and he does it.

This book was different. In more ways than one.

Apart from its extremely unexpected narrator, the books starts at the ending.And Death even lets you know what to expect in the end to soften the blow, but even though you know what is going to come, and you think that you come to terms with it, the end just blows you apart, softly and gently, just as Death’s cold hands dive into the warm bodies.

And when the book ends, you just know something has been added in you, and that something is an experience.

The books is also about words. The value of words, the way they can calm a person, comfort a person, make them forget their fears, troubles, and worries.

The people in the story are not just someone you read about, they are your close friends, the people you meet regularly, and drink coffee, and discuss the general affairs with. You are invested in them, they are flesh and blood. You are as interested in what Hitler’s next strategy is as them, your heart beats as fast as theirs in the basement whilst waiting for air raids. You are as worried about the fates of their loved ones as they are.

A few rare books are like this, and  I am glad I came across this.