I just finished All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr. It was so utterly amazing, I barely feel capable of writing a review that will do it justice, but I'm going to give it a few days and try to come up with something that captures the wonder of this book.
Let me just leave you with this sample of the beauty of the language:
“His voice is low and soft, a piece of silk you might keep in a drawer and pull out only on rare occasions, just to feel it between your fingers.”
You should probably go read the rest of this yourself.
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