By Elizabeth Honey, Heike Brandt
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Additional resources for To the Boy in Berlin
Mum said when I was little I used to play bookshops. I would drag a chair over to the bookcase, for a counter, and ask baby Danielle if she liked puppies or elephants, then I’d sell a book (to myself ) and buy it (from myself, with old tram tickets) and read it to Danielle . . Well, I couldn’t actually read it, but Mum says I used to say the story in a reading sort of way. Mum’s new job is getting more intense. Danielle and I are copping a crash course in cooking. More like crash and burn! Last night the roast wasn’t cooking fast enough so I put it on the top shelf, because hot air rises, and turned up the gas.
Anyway, if you need any help from my part, let me know. Bettina is interested in history and she has a friend who is a historian. YES: My mother’s name is Bettina, and my Dad is a carpenter. You’re right, it sounds as if somebody made this up. In a book I would think this is just too obvious. But as my Omi (Grandma) says: “Das Leben ist eine Wundertüte — Life is a Miracle Bag. ” Okay, got to go. Stay in touch. Yours, hanging his head. Leo Oh, I almost forgot what I wanted to tell you. 43 text BERLIN_vF 42-43 28/3/07, 12:25 PM At the moment I feel a bit like the cat on the last picture: in the grip.
A journey of migration, hope, isolation . ’ ‘Well, sort of . ’ My story lost its sparkle and I heard myself sounding rather desperate. I felt awful because I’d made the Schmidts’ lives into some cheap novel. Athena said, ‘I’ve got a couple of ideas for the project’ – then the bell rang. Saved by the bell? Dunno. At least we’re talking. I thought about Felix too. Remember that girl I blamed for my missing pencil? Her parents were separating. She was totally screwed up. My turn to get dinner ready.