![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj4HKLPJYrWTPse_luTsarDjNweJqBdfI3Ulq_4udWUIINdVxO60-JIokWUelq5cFcFOn3YKr8W_dmlaRplnlH3u6YX-k80pt8fOVVLv45XliqjzadmvEbEBOSojvn9xfaRZITIGdd1A8/s400/All+the+light+we+cannot+see.jpg)
I love book covers and miss them when I read on a device. I like seeing the author's picture and reading the short bio. I like the synopsis of the book that gives me a hint of what to expect. Usually, I just scan all the praise-filled quotes on the back of the book cover, but when I picked up All the Light We Cannot See, I was struck by the familiar and well-respected names of the quoted reviewers and their seemingly heartfelt superlatives when describing this book. And when I reluctantly put the book down at the end, I agreed with each reviewer. This is a very special book.
Through Anthony Doerr's elegant, emotional and evocative prose, I at least partially appreciated and understood so many experiences:
- The daily terror and helplessness of being blind.
- The heightened senses of a blind girl.
- The equal torment of being a blind girl's father.
- The daily deprivation of living in Germany between the two wars.
- The compelling and inescapable indoctrination of German youth by the Nazis.
- The tumult of fleeing everything you know in the face of an invasion.
- The combined fear and excitement of participating in the resistance.
- And for so many characters in this story, rising to the occasion.
No comments:
Post a Comment