light and dark and the humans in between

This novel's gorgeous cover first caught my eye years ago. Reading the description to find it was historical fiction prompted me to add it to my "to be read" list, and the rest is history. It got put off for quite some time; I read a ton of other books instead until finally, something prompted me to push it up to the top of my list. This prompt was realizing that the author, Anthony Doerr, is going to be visiting my university in February of this year for an annual event my department puts on. I wanted to have read at least one of his works in preparation, and low and behold, I finally read this outstanding book. I find this book outstanding in numerous, overwhelming ways. Firstly, every sentence is written with such precision and grace. So much attention is given to syllables, tone, and subtlety. I can see why it took Doerr 10 years to write this novel to its fullest, for it really is a story bursting at the seams with the complexities of war, the human spirit, childlike wonder and desire to learn, and the realities of death and destruction that people are capable of exacting on one another. I know there was probably so much research put into this narrative to create a story that could take place in a realistic World War II setting, the dates and placements of battles, soldiers, and civilians all instrumental to the plot as well as the landscape. I love and admire the way that Doerr juggles two storylines running like trains slowly approaching one another, unaware of each other's looming presences until they are face to face. I also admire the jumping back and forth between timelines, shorter chapters, and the ability to keep me as a reader aware of where in time and the story I've been placed (since there is quite a lot of jumping around in the book's sectioned parts). Marie-Laure as a character charmed me instantly. I ate up every description of the world as seen through her remaining, heightened senses. She possesses such grace, patience, curiosity, trust, and bravery throughout the entire narrative, as she loses her sight very early on in childhood, experiences her father pushing her out of her comfort zone in navigating their Paris neighborhood, eventually leaving that neighborhood behind and losing her Papa, and helping her great-uncle and the other townspeople of Saint-Malo send out secret messages via radio. I adored how much of a role the radio played in the actions and motivations of this story. It almost felt like another character to me, silent but pivotal. It's one of the first and most vital connections between Marie-Laure and Werner that readers see; it's fantastic dramatic irony. The way the radio is portrayed as a mechanical device meant for entertainment and wonder as well as a tool utilized for strategic warfare was so interesting to me. The symbolism of Werner smashing the radio he and Jutta nearly worshipped was very stark too. And everything about Frederick -- his calm, observant nature, his bravery in the face of authority, and the devastating results of that bravery -- will linger with me. Werner's character charmed me just as much, if not more, than Marie-Laure's. His inability to remain silent when he has a question. His unending urge to learn and tinker and fix problems that no one else seems able to detect or solve. His connection to his sister, even after leaving the orphanage they called home to put his skills to the test working for the Nazis. I think it's the fact that Werner realizes he's allowing himself to be trained for a cause that stirs some sort of unrest in his chest, and yet goes with the flow of the war and his skill set anyways, that makes his end all the more bittersweet. I was really and truly not expecting him to die, especially after he rescued Marie-Laure (which was soooo satisfying of a climax!) and very obviously fell in love with her when he first saw her walking down the street (how romantic). I wanted there to be a reunion and potentially even some sort of relationship or marriage between the two of them. What would that have looked like metaphorically -- a young French woman and the young German man who ended up rebelling against all of his training to save her? But I also see his death as something that happened metaphorically to show how war levels the playing field. It destroys and takes even the men who turned their backs on what they'd been told was their destiny and purpose. Needless to say, I was openmouthed at the description of him stepping on the land mine. I was teary-eyed when Marie-Laure and Jutta met in the museum in Paris. And I was reminded overall of how many different stories exist to be told from the surreal time that was the second world war. There are so many angles, so many perspectives, so much pain, and so much resilience from every single country and army and human being that endured the unearthly struggles and reality that was that war. This story certainly made me think about what it means to survive. Physically, yes, but also emotionally, and spiritually. This story also made me think about how terrible human beings can be to one another... and how kindness and selflessness and love still manage to remain and show up in the darkest of places. This kind of historical fiction will always have a place in my heart as it teaches me to embrace the things my heart will never be able to fully understand.



​Some of my favorite quotes from All the Light We Cannot See:

​"Radio: it ties a million ears to a single mouth."

"Her eyes said, You are betraying me, but wasn't he protecting her?"

"This snowy-haired dreamer plucked out of the soot."

"'Is it right,' Jutta says, 'to do something only because everyone else is doing it?''

"Music spirals out of the radios, and it is splendid to drowse on the davenport, to be warm and fed, to feel the sentences hoist her up and carry her somewhere else."

"Who knew love could kill you?"

"The ocean. The ocean!"

"Perhaps she's the only thing keeping him from surrendering totally."

"If only life were like a Jules Verne novel, thinks Marie-Laure, and you could page ahead when you most needed to, and learn what would happen."

"'Clair de Lune,' a song that makes her think of leaves fluttering, and of the hard ribbons of sand beneath her feet at low tide."

"He made her the glowing hot center of his life; he made her feel as if every step she took was important."

"Each a thing he hopes never to forget."

"To be here, in this room, high in this house, out of the cellar, with her: it is like medicine."

"Her voice like a bright, clear window of sky. Her face a field of freckles. He thinks: I don't want to let you go."

"'But how will I find you again?'
'I don't know.'"


Bonus photo of me getting to meet Anthony Doerr at my university!!!

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