All the Light We Cannot See

I recently set up a blog for my mother and tried to get her to post. Her story would be interesting to many. When I told my aunt, whose life is similar in so many ways to my mother’s – a child in the war, growing up in post war Germany, migrating to Australia – her response was dismissive, “What would she write about?” 

“Migrating, the war…”

My aunt interrupted and dismissed my comment, “Psft, the war! Who wants to remember that quatch!”

And therein lies the rub. Those who didn’t live through it want to hear the stories and not only want to remember, but surely HAVE to remember?

So to the novel by Anthony Doerr. 

This book made me feel ill. The waste, the horror of war. The power give to petty tyrants by rising militarism and the evil they inflict in small and large ways on others. As a mother of boys – for boys risk is not to be managed but seen as a challenge – I hate the brain washing of the young German males. They, most boys, want to do what is right. They were so easily manipulated. They are still so easily manipulated. 

This is a beautiful novel. Sad, painful to read. With wincing descriptions of cruelty. 

A great read. 

  

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12 thoughts on “All the Light We Cannot See

  1. It would be such a shame if your mother doesn’t write down her experiences. It’s funny how self-deprecating that generation is. My older relatives pale at the thought of writing things down.

    I loved ‘All the Light We Cannot See.’ Something about the writing style as much as the content was deeply affecting. I went shopping with a girlfriend who forced me to buy things and I left the bookshop with my own copy of ‘The Narrow Road to the Deep North.’ Am starting it today!

  2. Too many of our family members do not want to remember. It is only as I get older that I understand their feelings and attitudes.

  3. Just wanted to drop by and thank you for sending the make up brushes from a long ago post! I’d joined a ‘secret santa’ thing, and had initially thought it was from that – and I was thinking who is this Lucinda hybrid?! I finally understood it when I opened the parcel. Many thanks!

  4. Pingback: Saint Malo | lucinda sans

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