Number the Stars (Anglais) Broché – 2 mai 2011
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“I’ll race you to the corner, Ellen!” Annemarie adjusted the thick leather pack on her back so that her school books balanced evenly. “Ready?” She looked at her best friend.
Ellen made a face. “No,” she said, laughing. “You know I can’t beat you-my legs aren’t as long. Can’t we just walk, like civilized people?” She was a stocky ten year-old, unlike lanky Annemarie.
“We have to practice for the athletic meet on Friday- I know I’m going to win the girls’ race this week. I was second last week, but I’ve been practicing every day. Come on, Ellen,” Annmarie pleaded, eyeing the distance to the next corner of the Copenhagen street. “Please?”
Ellen hesitated, then nodded and shifted her own rucksack of books against her shoulders. “Oh, all right. Ready,” she said.
“Go!” shouted Annemarie, and the two girls were off, racing along the residential sidewalk. Annemarie’s silvery blond hair flew behind her, and Ellen’s dark pigtails bounced against her shoulders.
“Wait for me!” wailed little Kirsti, left behind, but the two older girls weren’t listening.
Annemarie outdistanced her friend quickly, even though one of her shoes came untied as she sped along the street called osterbrograde, past the small shops and cafés of her neighborhood here in northeast Copenhagen. Laughing, she skirted an elderly lady in black who carried a shopping bag made of string. A young woman pushing a baby in a carriage moved aside to make way. The corner was just ahead.
Annemarie looked up, panting, just as she reached the corner. Her laughter stopped. Her heart seemed to skip a beat.
“Halte!” the solider ordered in a stern voice. The German word was familiar as it was frightening. Annemarie had heard it often enough before, but it had never been directed at her until now.
Behind her, Ellen also slowed and stopped. Far back, Kirsti was plodding along, her face in a pout cause the girls hadn’t waited for her.
Annemarie stared up. There was two of them. That meant two helmets, two sets of cold eyes glaring at her, and four shiny boots planted firmly on the sidewalk, blocking her path home.
And it meant two rifles, gripped in the hands of the soldiers. She stared at the rifles first. Then, finally, she looked into the face of the soldier who had ordered her to halt.
“Why are you running?” the harsh voice asked. His Danish was very poor. Three years, Annemarie thought with contempt. Three years they’ve been in our country, and still they can’t speak our language.
“I was racing my friend,” she answered politely. “We have races at school every Friday, and I want to do well, so I —“ Her voice trailed away, the sentence unfinished. Don’t talk so much, she told herself. Just answer them, that’s all.
She glanced back. Ellen was motionless on the sidewalk, a few yards behind her. Farther back, Kirsti was still sulking, and walking slowly toward the corner. Nearby, a woman had come to the doorway of a shop and was standing silently, watching.
One of the soldiers, the taller one, moved toward her. Annemarie recognized him as the one she and Ellen always called, in whispers, “the Giraffe” because of his height and the long neck that extended from his stiff collar. He and his partner were always on this corner.
He prodded the corner of her backpack with the stock of his rifle. Annemarie trembled. “What is in here?” he asked loudly. From the corner of her eye, she saw the shopkeeper move quietly back into the shadows of the doorway, out of sight.
“Schoolbooks,” she answered truthfully.
“Are you a good student?” the soldier asked. He seemed to be sneering.
“What is your name?”
“Your friend is she a good student, too?” He was looking beyond her, at Ellen, who hadn’t moved.
Annemarie looked back, too, and saw that Ellen’s face, usually rosy-cheecked, was pale, and her dark eyes were wide.
She nodded at the soldier. “Better than me,” she said.
“What is her name?”
“And who is this?” he asked, looking to Annemarie’s side. Kirsti had appeared there suddenly, scowling at everyone.
“My little sister.” She reached down for Kirsti’s hand, but Kirsti, always stubborn, refused it and put her hands on her hips defiantly.
The soldier reached down and stroked her little sister’s short, tangled curls. Stand still, Kirsti, Annemarie ordered silently, praying that somehow the obstinate five-year-old would receive the message.
But Kirsti reached up and pushed the soldier’s hand away. “Don’t,” she said loudly.
Both soldiers began to laugh. They spoke to each other in rapid German that Annemarie couldn’t understand.
“She is pretty, like my own little girl,” the tall one said in a more pleasant voice.
Annemarie tried to smile politely.
“Go home, all of you. Go study your schoolbooks. And don’t run. You look like hoodlums when you run.”
The two soldiers turned away. Quickly Annemarie reached down again and grabbed her sister’s hand before Kirsti could resist. Hurrying the little girl along, she rounded the corner. In a moment Ellen was beside her. They walked quickly not speaking with Kirsti between them, toward the large apartment building where both families lived.
When they were almost home, Ellen whispered suddenly, “I was so scared.”
“Me too,” Annemarie whispered back.
As they turned to enter their building, both girls looked straight ahead, toward the door. They did it purposely so that they would not catch the eyes or the attention of two more soldiers, who stood with their guns on this corner as well. Kirsti scurried ahead of them through the door, chattering about the picture she was bringing home from kindergarten to show Mama. For Kirsti, the soldiers were simply part of the landscape, something that had always been there, on every corner, as unimportant as lampposts, throughout her remembered life.
“Are you going to tell your mother?” Ellen asked Annemarie as they trudged together up the stairs. “I’m not. My mother would be upset.”
“No, I won’t, tell either. Mama would probably scold me for running on the street.”
She said goodbye to Ellen on the second floor, where Ellen lived, and continued to the third, practicing in her mind a cheerful greeting for her mother; a smile, a description of today’s spelling test, in which she had done well.
But she was too late. Kirsti had gotten there first. “and he poked Annemarie’s book bag with his gun, and then he grabbed my hair!” Kirsti was chattering as she took off her sweater in the center of the apartment living room. “But I wasn’t scared. Annemarie was, and Ellen, too. But not me!”
Mrs. Johansen rose quickly from the chair by the window where she’d been sitting. Mrs. Rosen, Ellen’s mother, was there, too, in the opposite chair. They’d been having coffee together, as they did many afternoons. O f course it wasn’t really coffee, though the mothers still called it that; “having coffee.” There had been no real coffee in Copenhagen since the beginning of the Nazi occupation. Not even any real tea. The mothers sipped at hot water flavored with herbs.
“Annemarie, what happened? What is Kirsti talking about?” her mother asked anxiously.
“Where’s Ellen?” Mrs. Rosen had a frightened look.
“Ellen’s in your apartment. She didn’t realize you were here,” Annemarie explained. “Don’t worry. It wasn’t anything. It was the two soldiers who stand on Osterbrogade–you’ve seen them; you know the tall one with the long neck, the one who looks like a silly giraffe?” She told her mother and Mrs. Rosen of the incident, trying to make it sound humorous and unimportant. But their uneasy looks didn’t change.
“ I slapped his hand and shouted at him,” Kirsti announced importantly.
“No, she didn’t, Mama,” Annemarie reassured her mother. “She’s exaggerating, as she always does.”
Mrs. Johansen moved to the window and looked down to the street below. The Copenhagen neighborhood was quiet; it looked the same as always: people coming and going from the shops, children at play, the soldiers on the corner.
She spoke in a low voice to Ellen’s mother. “They must be edgy because of the latest Resistance incidents. Did you read in De Frie Danske about the bombings in Hillerod and Norrebro?”
Although she pretended to be absorbed in unpacking her schoolbooks, Annemarie listened, and she knew what her mother was referring to. De Frie Danske–The Free Danes__ was an illegal newspaper; Peter Neilson brought it to them occasionally, carefully folded and hidden among ordinary books and papers, and Mama always burned it after she and Papa had read it. But Annemarie heard mama and Papa talk, sometimes at night, about the news they received that way: news of sabotage against the Nazis, bombs hidden and exploded in the factories that produced war materials, and industrial railroad lines damaged so that goods couldn’t be transported.
And she knew what Resistance meant. Papa had explained, when she overheard the word and asked. The Resistance fighters where Danish people–no one knew who, because they were very secret–who were determined to bring harm to the Nazis however they could. They damaged the German trucks and cars, and bombed their factories. They were very brave. Sometimes they were caught and killed.
“I must go and speak to Ellen.” Mrs. Rosen said, moving toward the door. “you girls walk a different way to school. Promise me, Annemarie. And Ellen will promise, too.”
“We will, Mrs. Rosen. But what does it matter? There are German soldiers on every corner.”
“They will remember your faces,” Mrs. Rosen said, turning in the doorway to the hall. “It is important to be one of the crowd, always. Be one of many. Be sure that they never have reason to remember your face.” She diappeared into the hall and closed the door behind her.
“He’ll remember my face, Mama,” Kirsti announced happily, “because he said I look like his little girl. He said I was pretty.”
“If he has such a pretty little, why doesn’t he go back to her like a good father?” Mrs. Johansen murmured, stroking Kirsti’s cheek. “Why doesn’t he go back to his own country?”
“Mama, is there anything to eat?” Annemarie asked, hoping to take her mother’s mind away from the soldiers.
“Take some bread. And give a piece to your sister.”
“With butter?” Kirsti asked hopefully.
“No butter,” her mother replied. “You know that.”
Kirsti sighed as Annemarie went to the breadbox in the kitchen. “I wish I could have a cupcake,” she said. “A big yellow cupcake, with pink frosting.”
Her mother laughed. “For a little girl, you have a long memory,” she told Kirsti. “There hasn’t been any butter, or sugar for cupcakes, for a long time. A year, at least.”
“When will there be cupcakes again?”
“When the war ends,” Mrs. Johansen said. She glanced through the window, down the street corner where the soldiers stood, their faces impassive beneath the metal helmets. “When the soldiers leave.”
From the Paperback edition. --Ce texte fait référence à l'édition CD .
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Meilleurs commentaires des clients
Annemarie is a brave girl but she is also sporty and kind. Ellen is afraid of the soldiers and she is also kind like her friend.
I would say that the main themes of this book is friendship and bravery. I have learned from this book that it is important to not know every thing or you will not be brave enough to overcome your fear.
My favourite part of this book is when Annemarie talked to the soldiers without fear.
My opinion : that is a good book for children between 8 and 11 years old.
If I had a question to ask to Lois Lowry it would be:
Why that theme?
I hope you will enjoy it !!
This is an adventurous story which speaks about friendship, it also makes you ask yourself what you would do if you were in the same situation. It is historical so it taught me a lot about the Second World War. The characters are interesting and very believable, in particular, Kirsty is very believable because she is just like my little sister.
My favorite part was when the soldiers go to the Johansen's house to search for Jewish people. Annemarie pulls off Ellen's Star of David necklace to hide it. The Nazis then asked Mr Johansen why he had two blonde children and then a dark haired one (Ellen). Mr Johansen takes a photo of his dead, dark haired baby daughter to trick the soldiers to make them think it is Ellen.
I have one question I would like to ask the author. Is Ellen going to come back? I would change the part when Annemarie talked to the Nazis when she was going to find her uncle because I don't understand what happened when she was with the Nazis.
I would recommend this book to anyone from 8 years old.
Louis-Gabriel Walker, CM2, Our School, Versailles, France
I like this book because I like books about brave people. I liked Annemarie because she was brave and serious. I also liked Ellen because she was a bit shy (just like me).
The main themes of the book are family life, friendship, war and difficult situations.
My favourite part of the book is when Annemarie pretends to be a silly little girl when she meets the German soldiers and their dogs in the woods on her way ro her Uncle Henrik' boat.
I learned about World War II - Denmark was occupied by the German soldiers and the people suffered especially the Jewish people but even though things were difficult, people were still brave. If I had to change something in the book I would change what happened to Peter.
My questions to Lois Lowry: How long did it take you to write the book? Who was your favourite character?
Lydia, CM2, OurScool, Versailles
I think it is a very good idea for the setting to be in World War 2 and I love all the suspense that there is in this book!
My favourite character is Annemarie who is ten years old and I think she is very brave. She learns that sometimes we have to risk our lives for friendship.
By reading this book I learned all about World War 2, the Nazis and the resistance. I also learned about how people lived in those horrible conditions.
My favourite part of the book was when Annemarie ripped off Ellen’s necklace just before the soldiers entered the room.
I love the way Lois Lowry wrote the book because we can think it is real but actually it is fiction based on real facts. There is just one thing that I would change that is that Annemarie’s sister Lise and her fiancé Peter would not die.
I would recommend this book to everybody 9 years old or over.
Carla Ranson, Our School, CM2
Commentaires client les plus récents
The story is about two girls Ellen and Annemarie that are best friends,they live in Denmark and goes to the same school.The story takes place during the WW2 . Lire la suitePublié il y a 6 mois par Client d'Amazon
Number the Stars is about a girl who is called Annemarie who is living in Denmark during WWII. She helps her Jewish friend, Ellen and Ellen’s parents to get away from the Nazis and... Lire la suitePublié il y a 6 mois par AnnaM
This book is about two ten year old girls living in Denmark during World War Two. Their names are Annemarie, a blond girl who is a very fast runner, and her best friend Ellen, a... Lire la suitePublié il y a 6 mois par Elliott
The book is set in Denmark during the World War II and is about two friends, Annemarie and Ellen. Annemarie is Danish and Ellen is Jewish but the German soldiers want to send the... Lire la suitePublié il y a 6 mois par Thebigsleep
The story is about 2 sisters, Annemarie and Kirsti, and their Jewish friend, Ellen. It takes place during World War II in Copenhagen. Lire la suitePublié il y a 6 mois par Kathleen Casoli
At the beginning, I didn't find it gripping because I didn't know much about the World War 2.Then after talking about it with my mum I understood the importance of the story. Lire la suitePublié il y a 6 mois par Client d'Amazon
The setting: Copenhagen in the second WW, Anne Marie wants to save a her jewish friend by hiding her.
Is she going to manage to do it? Lire la suite
This story is about a girl of ten that is called Annemarie. It is the war and the Nazis that are occupying Danemark are taking all the Jews away. Lire la suitePublié il y a 6 mois par Client d'Amazon
This story takes place in Denmark during WWII. Annemarie is a young girl who lives with her parents and her daughter. Her best friend and neighbour Ellen is Jew. Lire la suitePublié il y a 6 mois par VASPART
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