This book had me following the parallel lives of a blind French girl and a clever German boy in WW2. It felt like reading the length of a life in all its brevity, absurdity, beauty, and tragedy. (I mean that quite literally, we follow the years from 1934 to 2014!)

I told my sister, "Siobe, this book is 530 pages long, and I'm at 400+ pages and the main characters are only now in each other's vicinity." The payoff for all of that build up was so tender and soft (I guess it wasn't the point), but as a reader I wish we had more air time. There was also a third character, and my reaction was like, "Eh, the author could've done away with you and it would've been okay." Actually, this character was closely tied to the 'fantasy' element of this book which was (to me) unsubstantiated. I now realize that component disoriented me and made me think that it was a loaded gun when it was, in fact, empty. Womp womp. 

But you know what hiked this book up to an almost solid 4? The prose. I truly felt like I was watching slow-paced cinema. And the narrative voice of the French girl? And the side characters? And I actually loved some of the adult men here, not just the adult women? *chef's kiss* 

Anthony Doerr was very clearly guiding my mind's eye, showing me piece by piece the moving parts of Nazi-occupied France, successfully painting such vivid, haunting moments. I'm also appreciative of moments that don't get fanfare, but irrevocably change the book's course, making me wish otherwise? That feels so much like life.