Strength in Fragility
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All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
One of the indicators of a great - as opposed to a 'good' - novel is when a story, following the paths of specific fictional characters, manages nonetheless to resonate with vast universal truths. 'All the Light We Cannot See' is one such novel. On the face of it we are taken inside the lives of two child protagonists in war-ravaged Europe, one a blind French six year old girl called Marie-Laure, living with her devoted father in Paris, and the other an eight year old German orphan called Werner whose precocious skills fixing radios is to rescue him from a life of harsh labour.
Anthony Doerr weaves back and forth between these two narratives while the war unfolds, grabbing our hearts as he goes. The story is a page-turner in every sense. It is impossible not to root for Werner and Marie-Laure, both endearing, resourceful, innocent characters, both trapped by a place in history they must learn to cope with even though its wider causes are beyond their comprehension.
The structure of the novel is beautifully knitted and elegant, from the first word to the last, and this is central to its power. In fact it made me think of the delicate, spiraling beauty of the shells that Marie-Laure collects on her walks on St Malo beach, seeking consolation for the disappearance of her beloved father. And as the novel reaches its climax Werner and Marie-Laure spiral towards each other too, or at least towards the same critical point that will seal their respective fates for good.
'All The Light We Cannot See' entertains as every novel must. But it is also a moving reminder that vulnerability is no measure of actual strength, that the bravest among us are often the most fragile.
View all my reviews
All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony DoerrMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
One of the indicators of a great - as opposed to a 'good' - novel is when a story, following the paths of specific fictional characters, manages nonetheless to resonate with vast universal truths. 'All the Light We Cannot See' is one such novel. On the face of it we are taken inside the lives of two child protagonists in war-ravaged Europe, one a blind French six year old girl called Marie-Laure, living with her devoted father in Paris, and the other an eight year old German orphan called Werner whose precocious skills fixing radios is to rescue him from a life of harsh labour.
Anthony Doerr weaves back and forth between these two narratives while the war unfolds, grabbing our hearts as he goes. The story is a page-turner in every sense. It is impossible not to root for Werner and Marie-Laure, both endearing, resourceful, innocent characters, both trapped by a place in history they must learn to cope with even though its wider causes are beyond their comprehension.
The structure of the novel is beautifully knitted and elegant, from the first word to the last, and this is central to its power. In fact it made me think of the delicate, spiraling beauty of the shells that Marie-Laure collects on her walks on St Malo beach, seeking consolation for the disappearance of her beloved father. And as the novel reaches its climax Werner and Marie-Laure spiral towards each other too, or at least towards the same critical point that will seal their respective fates for good.
'All The Light We Cannot See' entertains as every novel must. But it is also a moving reminder that vulnerability is no measure of actual strength, that the bravest among us are often the most fragile.
View all my reviews
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