书名：All the Light We Cannot See 所有我们看不见的光

难度：Lexile蓝思阅读指数880

作者：Anthony Doerr安东尼·多尔

出版社名称：Fourth Estate

出版时间：2015

语种：英文 

ISBN：9780008138301

商品尺寸：12.9 x 3.6 x 20 cm

包装：平装

页数：544

All the Light We Cannot See《所有我们看不见的光》是美国作家安东尼·多尔的第五部作品，耗时十年完成。全书由简短雅致的篇章组成，述说了两个身处敌对国家的少男少女，在“二战”中艰难求生、命运交织的故事，他们冲破一切阻碍，也要给彼此温暖…… 推荐理由： 1. 2015年普利策奖获奖小说，触动38国读者心弦的迷人之作； 2.美国国家图书奖决选作品，2014年《卫报》等30多家主流媒体和书店推荐年度图书； 3.英文原版，故事构思巧妙，文字极富诗意，阅读难度不大。 WINNER OF THE 2015 PULITZER PRIZE FOR FICTIONNATIONAL BOOK AWARD FINALISTNEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLERWINNER OF THE CARNEGIE MEDAL FOR FICTION A beautiful, stunningly ambitious novel about a blind French girl and a German boy whose paths collide in occupied France as both try to survive the devastation of World War II. Review “Far more than a conventional war story, it’s a tightly focused epic… Doerr paints with a rich palette, using prose that resonates deeply and conveys the ephemera of daily existence along with high drama, sadness and hope… A bittersweet and moving novel that lingers in the mind” —Daily Mail“An epic work about bravery and the power of attachment” —Rose Tremain,Observer, Books of the Year“An epic and a masterpiece”—Justin Cartwright,Observer“This novel will be a piece of luck for anyone with a long plane journey or beach holiday ahead. It is such a page-turner, entirely absorbing… magnificent” —Guardian“Doerr can bring a scene to life in a single paragraph… Delicate and moving … the novel takes hold and will not easily let go” —The Times“Boy meets girl in Anthony Doerr’s hauntingly beautiful new book, but the circumstances are as elegantly circuitous as they can be” —The New York Times“I’m not sure I will read a better novel this year… Enthrallingly told, beautifully written and so emotionally plangent that some passages bring tears” —Washington Post“This jewel of a story is put together like a vintage timepiece… Doerr’s writing and imagery are stunning. It’s been a while since a novel had me under its spell in this fashion.”—Abraham Verghese“A dazzling, epic work of fiction. Anthony Doerr writes beautifully about the mythic and the intimate, about snails on beaches and armies on the move, about fate and love and history and those breathless, unbearable moments when they all come crashing together.” —Jess Walter

法国少女玛丽洛尔生活在巴黎，幼年失明后，父亲保护她、训练她，鼓励她勇敢生活下去。1940年，德国入侵，她被迫离家，不久又与父亲骨肉分离，以瘦削的肩膀抵抗纳粹暴政。 德国少年维尔纳从小失去双亲，与妹妹在矿区孤儿院相依为命。一心想摆脱底层命运的他，凭借无线电天赋跻身纳粹精英学校，本以为是命运的转折，不料却跌入另一个地狱。 战争碾碎了他们的希望，两个陌生人的生命轨迹也意外交汇。当平静的生活成为不可企及的黑暗之光，他们是否有勇气，在死之前，活出生机？ Marie-Laure lives with her father in Paris near the Museum of Natural History, where he works as the master of its thousands of locks. When she is six, Marie-Laure goes blind and her father builds a perfect miniature of their neighborhood so she can memorize it by touch and navigate her way home. When she is twelve, the Nazis occupy Paris and father and daughter flee to the walled citadel of Saint-Malo, where Marie-Laure’s reclusive great-uncle lives in a tall house by the sea. With them they carry what might be the museum’s most valuable and dangerous jewel. In a mining town in Germany, the orphan Werner grows up with his younger sister, enchanted by a crude radio they find. Werner becomes an expert at building and fixing these crucial new instruments, a talent that wins him a place at a brutal academy for Hitler Youth, then a special assignment to track the resistance. More and more aware of the human cost of his intelligence, Werner travels through the heart of the war and, finally, into Saint-Malo, where his story and Marie-Laure’s converge.

安东尼·多尔（Anthony Doerr，1973— ），美国小说家，作品包括《捡贝壳的人》（The Shell Collector）、《关于恩典》（About Grace）、《罗马四季》（Four Seasons in Rome）、《记忆墙》（Memory Wall）等书。多尔凭短篇小说三次获得欧亨利小说奖、一次全国杂志奖和手推车奖，作品收录于《美国短篇小说》《安可新美国短篇小说选》和《斯克里布纳当代小说选》中，邦诺书店新秀奖、罗马奖和纽约公共图书馆幼狮文学奖也给予他高度肯定。2007年，知名文学杂志《格兰塔》将安东尼·多尔列入二十一位全美青年小说家的排名中。多尔目前在沃伦威尔森学院的文艺创作硕士班任教，与妻子和两个儿子住在爱达荷州博伊西市。 Anthony Doerr is the author of four books,The Shell Collector,About Grace,Four Seasons in Rome and Memory Wall. Doerr’s short fiction has won three O. Henry Prizes and has been anthologized inThe Best American Short Stories,The Anchor Book of New American Short Stories, andThe Scribner Anthology of Contemporary Fiction. He has won the Rome Prize, and shared the New York Public Library’s Young Lions Fiction Award with Jonathan Safran Foer. In 2007 Granta placed Doerr on its list of the “21 Best Young American novelists.” Doerr lives in Boise, Idaho, with his wife and two sons.

Zero7 August 1944LeafletsAt dusk they pour from the sky. They blow across the ramparts, turn cartwheels over rooftops, flutter into the ravines between houses. Entire streets swirl with them, flashing white against the cobbles. Urgent message to the inhabitants of this town, they say. Depart immediately to open country. The tide climbs. The moon hangs small and yellow and gibbous. On the rooftops of beachfront hotels to the east, and in the gardens behind them, a half-dozen American artillery units drop incendiary rounds into the mouths of mortars. BombersThey cross the Channel at midnight. There are twelve and they are named for songs: Stardust and Stormy Weather and In the Mood and Pistol-Packin’ Mama. The sea glides along far below, spattered with the countless chevrons of whitecaps. Soon enough, the navigators can discern the low moonlit lumps of islands ranged along the horizon. France. Intercoms crackle. Deliberately, almost lazily, the bombers shed altitude. Threads of red light ascend from anti-air emplacements up and down the coast. Dark, ruined ships appear, scuttled or destroyed, one with its bow shorn away, a second flickering as it burns. On an outermost island, panicked sheep run zigzagging between rocks. Inside each airplane, a bombardier peers through an aiming window and counts to twenty. Four five six seven. To the bombardiers, the walled city on its granite headland, drawing ever closer, looks like an unholy tooth, something black and dangerous, a final abscess to be lanced away. The GirlIn a corner of the city, inside a tall, narrow house at Number 4 rue Vauborel, on the sixth and highest floor, a sightless sixteen-year-old named Marie-Laure LeBlanc kneels over a low table covered entirely with a model. The model is a miniature of the city she kneels within, and contains scale replicas of the hundreds of houses and shops and hotels within its walls. There’s the cathedral with its perforated spire, and the bulky old Château de Saint-Malo, and row after row of seaside mansions studded with chimneys. A slender wooden jetty arcs out from a beach called the Plage du Môle; a delicate, reticulated atrium vaults over the seafood market; minute benches, the smallest no larger than apple seeds, dot the tiny public squares. Marie-Laure runs her fingertips along the centimeter-wide parapet crowning the ramparts, drawing an uneven star shape around the entire model. She finds the opening atop the walls where four ceremonial cannons point to sea. “Bastion de la Hollande,” she whispers, and her fingers walk down a little staircase. “Rue des Cordiers. Rue Jacques Cartier.” In a corner of the room stand two galvanized buckets filled to the rim with water. Fill them up, her great-uncle has taught her, whenever you can. The bathtub on the third floor too. Who knows when the water will go out again. Her fingers travel back to the cathedral spire. South to the Gate of Dinan. All evening she has been marching her fingers around the model, waiting for her great-uncle Etienne, who owns this house, who went out the previous night while she slept, and who has not returned. And now it is night again, another revolution of the clock, and the whole block is quiet, and she cannot sleep. She can hear the bombers when they are three miles away. A mounting static. The hum inside a seashell. When she opens the bedroom window, the noise of the airplanes becomes louder. Otherwise, the night is dreadfully silent: no engines, no voices, no clatter. No sirens. No footfalls on the cobbles. Not even gulls. Just a high tide, one block away and six stories below, lapping at the base of the city walls. And something else.