All the Light We Cannot See

 By Anthony Doerr, 2014

Although this novel is well grounded in a detailed realism, it’s a bit too metaphysical for me.

Many things about it are very good. The pictures of the lives of two young people, one growing up under Nazi government in Germany and the other living under Nazi occupation of France, are real and illuminating. I get a picture of the paranoia and privation, and the compromises that people make to survive under terrible conditions. In this way, it reminds me of the conditions shown in Suite Française, and gives an idea of what conditions might be like in Ukraine under Russian attack. Werner’s impoverished life in the mining village, at the authoritarian and cruel Nazi youth school and then in the army is vivid, and I can understand the choices he makes. The scenes of the Russian soldiers when they occupy Berlin and threaten Werner’s sister are horrific – although they fall into a common stereotype of Russia with no attempt to get beyond it, unlike the picture of the German occupiers in Suite Française.

Marie-Laure’s more protected middle-class life is less harrowing, but still difficult. Even without being rich, she is protected in a way that Werner is not, as class has its privileges even in wartimes. The challenges of her blindness don’t compare with his poverty, and in some ways they seems to make life easier for her as people go out of their way to help her. Her blindness seems to me to parallel more with Werner’s indoctrination, which allows him only a limited view of the reality around him. The novel gives a picture of war that is empathetic and lyrical, even within the horrors of the situation.

In spite of the detail and realism, there are many details that I didn’t buy into, which made it difficult for me to completely accept the narrative. Marie-Laure, for example, is often shown seeing details that she can’t see. Even accepting that blind people can be highly aware of their environment, how can she know that a spider spins a new web over the stove every night? Or be aware of a reaction in someone’s face? She is a highly intelligent and capable blind person, which is great, but she can’t know some things that she cannot see. And Werner’s philosophical ruminations about the excesses of the Vienna Opera seem equally out of place for someone with his background. As these details accumulate, they start to seem contrived and make the story feel artificial.

So the metaphysical elements to me feel just as contrived and artificial. Werner and Marie-Laure are initially linked through the almost miraculous connections of the radio broadcasts. When they ultimately come together, I could perhaps see a link through Werner’s fascination with radio and Marie-Laure’s connection with her uncle, if it were not for the artificiality that I felt earlier. All the metaphysical language that Doerr uses to describe the scenes just draws attention to the contrived nature of the story. I can’t help comparing this with the metaphysical links that connect the lead characters in Doctor Zhivago, which are so understated, but real, that they make the novel a compelling classic that I look forward to re-reading.

The fateful story of the Sea of Flames gem foreshadows the mysterious connections across time and space. The electromagnetic radio waves connect everyone through modern technologies (magnified these days with internet communications), in a contemporary science-like way that is too metaphysical to be actual science. The theme of connectedness helps to make the characters feel better in tragic circumstances. They overcome the absence of those they love, and perhaps believe in something that isn’t war. This is something, but it doesn’t offer meaning or respite from the brutality of war.