The brain is locked in total darkness, of course, children. It floats in a clear liquid inside the skull, never in the light. And yet the world it constructs in the mind is full of light. It brims with color and movement. So how, children, does the brain, which lives without a spark of light, build for us a world of light?
At first blush this book seemed quite similar to The Book Thief, one of my all-time favorite books and therefore tough to beat, and I began to be irritated. But except for childhoods stolen by the horror of war, and achingly poignant prose, the two books are dissimilar enough. All the Light We Cannot See is a moving, beautifully written story, well worth savoring.