All the Light We Cannot See: A WWII Novel About the Strength of Ordinary People

Everyday superheroes
Neither of the protagonists in this book are out of the ordinary—in fact, they both begin life with significant disadvantages. Marie-Laure is a blind girl and budding naturalist who lives in Paris with her father; Werner is a poor German orphan and self-taught engineer who’s destined for the mines. Yet as World War II grinds on, both of them exhibit such determination, resilience, and kind-heartedness they begin to seem almost superhuman, especially against a backdrop of atrocities.
An underdog who triumphs in dangerous times
Werner teaches himself to build radios out of scraps, sharing access to broadcasts with his equally fierce and intelligent younger sister, their fellow orphans, and the French-speaking nun who cares for them. His brilliance wins him entrance to one of Germany’s most prestigious academies—but once there, he must live and fight alongside Nazis without becoming one himself.
A high-stakes mission
Marie-Laure’s father is a trusted locksmith at one of France’s most venerable museums. When the museum’s director asks him to help keep a precious, possibly cursed diamond from the Reich, he agrees despite the terrible risk. When the diamond falls to Marie-Laure, she too protects it with her life, while also aiding the Free France movement.
The power of storytelling
Part of what keeps Werner and Marie-Laure going is the power of stories. In one grueling sequence, Marie-Laure must survive alone in an attic for days while a predator prowls beneath her. It’s a Braille version of Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea that sustains her during this trial. When daily life as a foot soldier in Hitler’s army threatens to damage Werner beyond repair, it’s his ability to listen, to empathize and communicate, that saves him.
Beloved story tropes
Doerr skillfully uses tropes more often associated with children’s novels than with literary fiction: young orphans who are as bright as they are pure of heart, magical gems, puzzles, curses, and quests. But while his techniques may appeal to our inner child, his rich, undiluted prose is anything but childish, expecting readers to rise to his level.
A perfect balance of dark and light
Doerr doesn’t flinch from horror or unfairness; nor does he wallow in it for effect. His aching, lovely, ambitious novel is full of detailed admiration for the world we were fortunate enough to be born into, even as it candidly acknowledges our capacity, even our urge, to destroy. It never loses sight of the fact that war makes grownups of us all.
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