We gathered together on a warm spring afternoon, unusual for this time of the year, to talk about our latest read, “All the Light We Cannot See”. To a person, we all immensely enjoyed this book. Maddy even went to the point of saying it was the most perfect book she had ever read. Chapters were short, perspectives shifted, time shifted back and forth. Sometimes we felt that we were exploring our own puzzle, similar to the ones Marie- Laure’s father constructed for her. Lost in the story, getting glimpses of past and future, encountering various characters and piecing together their lives, their perspectives, how the war affected them;, we groped our way as a blind person does to our understanding of the thrust of history and the novel itself.
Someone asked if Maurie-Laurie had to be blind. My answer and the answer of others was yes, absolutely. She is the metaphor for the story. She sees the light even though she is blind. She is blind and we feel her blindness, we feel her helplessness as others in this story were helpless to their plights. The war machine was ruthless. It changed people and ground up people and destroyed lives, yet empathy was alive among these characters and among many affected by this war. Anthony Doerr does a beautiful job of exposing this light, this empathy, that comes shining through his characters.
I wondered why the story was told in such a fashion, switching backwards and forwards in time and it dawned on me that he was creating the puzzles Marie-Laurie ’s father created for her for each of her birthdays. Tiny, intricate puzzles which had to be solved and unlocked for the prize inside. Each chapter, though short, was a facet of this puzzle. One had to be patient and feel ones way to understand and appreciate the gem that was locked inside.
We loved Doerr’s writing style, his metaphorical and poetic writing, his descriptions. We decided that a movie could not do justice to this novel. A hollywood movie would have a perfect and happy ending and would destroy the beauty of the tension and the truth of this tale. People died who we had hoped would not but this was World War II, and so many died. People suffered and others ignored their suffering but these people lived with fear and the choices they were faced with. We came to understand at a deeper level the complexities of World War II. How the Germans used propaganda and the power of radio to exploit the helplessness and hopelessness of people. We learned how they pitted young people against each other asking them to punish the weakest among them much as ISIS today uses and warps young people to their ends. We talked of War and the “good War” and wondered if all our subsequent wars have been carried on the coattails of this war, masquerading as “the good War” too.
Werner grew up in an orphanage, and that led Marylib to comment and question who teaches empathy in an orphanage. Yet Werner had empathy though he lacked the courage to attempt to save Frederick. Still he visited Frederick and loved his friend and showed deep remorse for his failings to his friend. And he finally was able to recognize the power of choice and make a good choice in not revealing the broadcast coming from number 4 rue Vauborel.
We also had our favorite characters in this novel: Marie- Laure’s father, Madame Manec, and dear Uncle Etienne. Why did her father have to die? Answer: It was war. It was natural for him to die. It wouldn’t have been a true story without his death….. Madam Manec, whose courage led her to take Maurie-Laurie to the sea and whose fierceness and bravery led her to lead the resistance to the Nazi’s. We loved her. And Uncle Etienne, who finally found his courage when Madam Manec died and he took up the flag of the resistance and climbed to the 6th floor to broadcast the codes for the resistance. Etienne, who for years couldn’t leave the house, finally found the courage to venture outside into the world.
I will end by giving a quote from the book about time. Werner is dying and is thinking his last thoughts…”He thinks of the old broken miners he’d seen in Zollverein, sitting in chairs or on crates, not moving for hours, waiting to die. To men like that, time was a surfeit, a barrel they watched slowly drain. When really, he thinks, it’s a glowing puddle you carry in your hands; you should spend all your energy protecting it. Fighting for it. Working so hard not to spill one single drop.”
