All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr
In the New York Times Book Review, William Vollmann ended his mostly positive review by proclaiming that, while Anthony Doerr is a talented writer, All the Light We Cannot See is not literature, only great entertainment. I am not sure what qualifies as literature in Vollman's opinion. But for me, a novel that can use the lives of two protagonists and a small circle of supporting characters to explore an event of the magnitude of World War II, and wrap it in in a thoughtful and emotional story that explores universal themes, is literature. That is exactly what All The Light We Cannot See does.
The story begins shortly before the war, and introduces the pair at its center, a French girl and a German boy. Marie Laure is blind and motherless, and lives in spare apartment in Paris with her doting father, a locksmith who works at the Museum of Natural History. A curious, quiet, intelligent girl, Marie Laure never falls into victimhood thanks to her father. A gentle, kind, and creative man himself, Etienne encourages his daughter's precocity and imagination, creating intricate puzzles for her to solve, building an exquisite miniature replica of her neighborhood to foster her independence, and providing a braille version of Jules Verne's 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. Their bond is beautiful and will both prepare and sustain Marie Laure through the dark days of the war that will deprive her of so much.
The other half of the pair is young Werner Pfennig, an orphan raised in a foundling home in the industrial Ruhr by a kindly Frenchwoman. Werner too is precocious, a boy with a mechanical mind. His genius and curiosity save him from the coal mines that took the life of his father, but these gifts will dangerously entrap him, eventually leading him to become a weapon of the Third Reich. When we first meet him, he and his wise younger sister, Jutta, are listening to a radio the clever Werner has salvaged. Deep in the night they hear the voice of a Frenchman, "the professor," who teaches them lessons in science, piquing their young minds. Through Werner, we see how a good person can be manipulated, molded, and used in the name of a greater cause. (Though of course, anyone who has seen the effect of hate television and radio on our own society over the past thirty years doesn't have to wonder how it happens.)
As the story unfolds, war comes and we see its effects on the lives of Marie Laure and Werner--as well as those they love--including the choices that confront them, the losses they suffer, the lessons they learn, and the true selves they discover buried beneath the terror and hardship of their days. There is also a monster--an officer who embodies the single minded destruction of the "1,000-Year Reich." There is humor and heartbreak, courage and denial, sacrifice and betrayal. There is beauty and poetry, terror and wonder, love and community. Doerr, too, explores responsibility--to ourselves, to our fellow man, to morality, knowing what is right and what is wrong, what is evil and what is good. His story will wrap itself around your heart, make you angry over the lives and the promise lost by this horrible time, and will make you marvel at the power of people to make a difference. All are lessons that sadly seem lost today, when the very idea of community is anathema to a portion of our citizenry.
Amazon and Indie Next chose the book as a best of the month, and it is definitely one of my favorites of 2014. And yes, it is great entertainment, too.
