All the Superlatives Are Justified

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.

Historical fiction is my favorite genre precisely because I think it is the best way to gain true insight into our collective past and what things "really" feel like.