All the Light We Cannot See, Anthony Doerr
Fast Facts
- To my abject delight, Anthony Doerr was raised in none other than Cleveland, Ohio - hence, his sunny world view?
- 544 pages
- 10 years of writing
- Selected for the Fiction Long List for the National Book Award
- Not just another World War II tears-and-torture fest
- An ode to the wonders of technology, the power of family relationships, finding love and beauty in strange places, and the special terrors of the war
- My first Anthony Doerr book, but certainly not my last
(A Little Bit of the) Plot
The story focuses on two children as they become very adult adolescents during the war: Marie-Laure LeBlanc, an immensely clever young blind girl trapped in her great-uncle's house in a coastal town, and Werner Pfennig, a brilliant white-haired orphan boy from a coal mining town with a penchant for radios.
Both their journeys are heart-wrenching, as they struggle to survive in unimaginable circumstances and in the midst of excruciating separations from their most cherished loved ones. Their bright curiosity and talents, the mystery of a diamond hunt, and the lingering question of who will survive and how their lives will collide, dissipate some of the depressing weight of their circumstances.
(Maybe that sounds a bit like a book jacket, but I would hate to spoil such a highly-recommended read by giving any more away!)
Structure Makes it a Speed Read
Doerr bounces around time periods within, and briefly before and after, the war, using short chapters and shifts in point of view. Primarily, you follow the perspectives of Marie-Laure and Werner, but you also uncomfortably spend time in the point of view of the antagonist, a Nazi sergeant major hunting down an enormous diamond (think the Titanic stone, but offering an immortality that Jack and Rose never enjoyed).
Each chapter is a morsel so perfectly proportioned that you'll keep saying "sure, I'll have another," until your eyes are burning and the sun comes up. With such dark subject matter, how can you take so many of these sections at one time?
Well, because it's lovely.
What Makes it Lovely
Yes, this book is deeply dark and depressing. But it has garnered rave reviews and captured attention because it offers some human redemption - something that books in all genres, not simply World War II fiction, could use in healthy doses.
That redemption takes many forms, and I'll offer a few of my favorites.
"I was on a train heading into Penn Station from Princeton, N.J., and we started going underground. The man in front of me was on his cellphone call — this was in 2004 — and the call dropped. And he got kind of angry, a little embarrassingly angry, unreasonably angry.
And I just remember thinking, what he's forgetting — really what we're all forgetting all the time — is that this is a miracle. He's using this little receiver and transmitter, this little radio in his pocket, to send messages at the speed of light rebounding between towers to somebody maybe thousands of miles away. He might have been talking to someone in Madagascar for all I knew. For me, that's a miracle.
So ... originally, the real central motivation for the book was to try and conjure up a time when hearing the voice of a stranger in your home was a miracle.(Reminds me of Louie CK's Miracle of Flight sketch, but less funny.)
Something Happier for Your Dreary Fall?
I just finished a summer of bingeing some delicious book junk food:
1) The last book in the Discovery of Witches trilogy, in which the hot-and-heavy will-they-won't-they vampire-witch power couple finally have some babies and visit their string of beautifully decorated villas around the world, and
2) All three of the Hunger Games books (Thanksgiving cannot come soon enough for that movie! I read the third book in a 24-hour blitz that needs some Jennifer Lawrence recapping, stat.)
After all my pleasure reading, I figured it was probably time for me to pick up Proust or something. Failing that, I kept coming across All the Light We Cannot See, and I'm very glad that I finally pulled the trigger, because despite all the accolades, this was a tough book for me to purchase. Who can jump from Katniss, Diana the witch and her hunky Matthew the vampire, to a depressing Holocaust novel?
If you're feeling post-summer melancholy, my recommendation is to battle the evil vampires and President Snow first, and afterwards pick up Doerr's beautiful book to assuage your guilt.
I just finished a summer of bingeing some delicious book junk food:
1) The last book in the Discovery of Witches trilogy, in which the hot-and-heavy will-they-won't-they vampire-witch power couple finally have some babies and visit their string of beautifully decorated villas around the world, and
2) All three of the Hunger Games books (Thanksgiving cannot come soon enough for that movie! I read the third book in a 24-hour blitz that needs some Jennifer Lawrence recapping, stat.)
After all my pleasure reading, I figured it was probably time for me to pick up Proust or something. Failing that, I kept coming across All the Light We Cannot See, and I'm very glad that I finally pulled the trigger, because despite all the accolades, this was a tough book for me to purchase. Who can jump from Katniss, Diana the witch and her hunky Matthew the vampire, to a depressing Holocaust novel?
If you're feeling post-summer melancholy, my recommendation is to battle the evil vampires and President Snow first, and afterwards pick up Doerr's beautiful book to assuage your guilt.
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