All the Light We Cannot See

 

All the Light We Cannot See – Anthony Doerr

One of the facts about the second world war that may Americans forget is that, in relation to many of the other countries, the United States was fortunate that the battles of the war weren’t fought in their homeland. Countless nations across Europe and Asia had entire cities destroyed and many of the civilian population was obliterated among the carnage.  Those that survived were lucky and made it through steadfast perseverance. This was the case for young Marie-Laure, who lives with her father who works in a museum in Paris in the 1930s. She must flee with her father further inland when Hitler invades, and we follow her story up until 1944. By then just about everything she has is gone.  To make matters worse, Marie-Laure is blind.  She must face the ongoing tragedies without seeing light; figuratively and literally.

Another fact that is forgotten is that most of the soldiers who wore a German uniform weren’t necessarily sadistically oriented maniacs. These young man had been brainwashed as youths in their motherland of Germany and were forcibly raised in the most horrid totalitarian existence one could imagine.  Young Werner is an orphan in the 1930s. Orphans aren’t “as good” as the purebred youngsters of Germany, so Werner is destined for slave labor in the mines once he turns 15. Luckily, it’s discovered that this young orphan has a knack for electronics and is a whiz and fixing short range radios, so his future is saved. Sort of. Being shipped off to a Hitler youth training facility doesn’t sound much better than the mines. This is a place where pupils are encouraged to find the weakest one among themselves and constantly beat him up; even with firehoses. If the boy ends up dead or brain damaged, it’s an inconsequential matter necessary to advance the Reich.  So Werner witnesses horrors upon horrors before the war even begins. The light Werner remembers from his “fond” days with his little sister in the orphanage is all but extinguished.

Our story begins in 1944, just as the allies begin the process of ending the European War as they invade France via D-Day.  Yet we quickly go back a decade to 1934 when Marie-Laure and Werner were still children.  We then watch them grow up during the next ten years and observe how their surroundings go from awful to atrocious. It’s easy to love Marie-Laure, but author Anthony Doerr ensures that it’s easy to love the German protagonist as well. We see firsthand the horrors of the war, and it really doesn’t matter which side you’re on nor who may be “winning” at the particular time. Useless suffering and death is useless suffering and death.

I won’t go into all of the details of the plot. It kind of involves a disappearance of a rare jewel from the museum that Marie-Laure’s father worked at, and we know how rapacious the Nazis were when it came to expensive treasures of conquered nations. What makes this book so enthralling, though, really doesn’t involve any sort of plot. What draws the reader in so deeply are our two young victims.  We feel deeply for them, and it hurts when we remember that their stories are only two of millions and millions of real ones.

The book is nicely broken down into small chapters. Most chapters are about 2-3 pages. Many readers gripe about this, but as long as the author is telling a good story, this fact never bothered me. I prefer this as it gives the reader a chance to breathe throughout, and it ensures that the author doesn’t get heavily bogged down with minute, irrelevant details.

A book about such an event can never be referred to as a “happy” book with a “happy” ending. No, a world war is too cruel for that. It did, however, leave the reader somewhat satisfied and hopefully thankful that they’ve probably never had to experience events as traumatic as the ones told in this story.  I don’t watch TV nor many movies, so I have no idea if they’ve ever made this novel into a movie or series. If done right, it would be a great one.  Still, though, read the book first. It’s hard to imagine any sort of different way of telling this story to be any better.