On All the Light We Cannot See

Although this book already has some fairly high ratings and great reviews, I do think I have something to add. First, I must say that the plot isn’t anything particularly special—it reads like a lot of World War II resistance novels. But, the writing is good and the charm is in the way Doerr has produced the book.

From the get-go, Doerr sets himself up for a rather difficult challenge. One of his main characters are blind. Given that half the book is from her perspective, he is forced to forego one of the most common forms of imagery throughout her entire half of the book: visual imagery. Because Marie-Laure is blind, and we readers see the world as Marie-Laure sees it, Doerr has to paint his settings and events without relying on visual cues. As a result, he is able to bring novelty to the work by relying on tactile, auditory, and olfactory imagery. Instead of describing the sea by color (which he does do in Werner’s chapters), our introduction to the sea comes with the scent of salt, the texture of mollusks, and the crashing of the waves. While I did enjoy Werner’s chapters, I think I enjoyed Marie-Laure’s more—not because of her character but because of the vividness of the image that Doerr paints for us.

Moreover, books like this are hit or miss. In other books that alternate characters in each chapter, it is easy to lose sight of the plot and to find characterization to be superficial (or even a bit sterile). However, Doerr somehow manages to fully flesh out most of his characters. Etienne is loyal and courageous, although he first comes off as cowardly. Marie-Laure is noble and innocent. Werner has a strong sense of duty, as well as righteousness. The downside, unfortunately, is that some of the characters lack a bit of development. As much as I appreciate Marie-Laure, she does not develop nearly to the same extent as Werner, Volkheimer, or Etienne. The villains also seem almost cartoonish and one-dimensional.

I also enjoyed the sweeping theme of light throughout the text. Even though Marie-Laure is blind, the concept of lightness appears, as well as frequently and constantly in Werner’s story. Coincidence is also a theme that appears and reminds me a bit more of Russian novels (although hardly to the same extent). Yet, it does not exhibit the same absurdity as in Pasternak’s Doctor Zhivago or Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons.

In spite of the single-dimensional characters and fairly simplistic plot, I think that Doerr’s writing is powerful enough to warrant a five-star review. I loved this book and will doubtlessly cherish it in the future. Because of it, I’ll be making a day-long pilgrimage to Saint Malo in order to (hopefully) enjoy the same sea that Marie-Laure does throughout the book. It turns out that the Rue Vauborel does exist, and Saint Malo has put together an itinerary to follow in Marie-Laure’s footsteps, and I’m looking forward to checking that out myself.