I remember the first time I read a story by Anthony Doerr,
in the wonderful collection "The Shell Collector." I was immediately
taken with his prose, a unique combination of lyricism, prose-poetry, and
clarity. He is known best for his stories and now, in a sweeping 500+ page
novel, he weaves together multiple stories of French, German and Russian
perpetrators, all in some way victims of World War II.
Although Amazon selected the novel as best book of the month
when published in May, their review also begged the question: do we need
another novel about WWII? Apparently, all the stories have yet to be told, and,
more importantly, few told as beautifully as "All the Light we Cannot
See."
The tales unfold in chapters alternating between key characters: Werner,
an orphan with a penchant for gadgets, and a prodigious ability with electrical
circuits and radio technology, which the Nazi's discover most useful to their land war; and Marie-Laure, a blind adolescent whose father,
locksmith for the Paris natural history museum, has taken her to the walled
coastal city Saint-Malo, only to face the French occupation, and a town that will become
the last German stronghold as the war nears end.
In truth, as fascinating as Werner's character and prowess, and his thoughtful attachment to his sister,
I sped through his chapters to Marie-Laure's because she was such a fascinating persona,
and this was easy to do because all the chapters are brief, further accelerating
the narrative.
"To shut your eyes is to guess nothing of blindness.
Beneath your world of skies and faces and buildings exists a rawer and older
world, a place where surface planes disintegrate and sounds ribbon in shoals
through the air. Marie-Laure can sit in an attic high above the street and hear
lilies rustling in marshes two miles away."
The story revolves in large part on a gem stolen by
Marie-Laure's father from the museum for protection, a stone rumored to ruin
the lives of those in its possession, which he buries in a model of the city he
builds for Marie-Laure so that she might learn her way around. Marie's lifelong
independence stems from her father's determination to teach his daughter to
survive her blindness, and these skills ultimately allow her to survive far
more.
From 1940 to 2014, we follow Marie-Laure, her father, her traumatized
uncle, another fascinating characters, and eclectic French and German friends, and Werner, his sister, Jutta, as well as Werner's assorted
friends and mentors. The chapters dealing with Nazi schools meant to train
their youth are especially chilling, and psychologically enlightening.
In the end, of course, Werner and Marie-Laure find each
other through the wireless, and through the books and music lovingly handed
down to Marie-Laure, and they bring these connections to all their friends and
loved ones many years after the devastation of the war.