All the Light We Cannot See
The Beams
by Anthony, Doerr,The chapter “The Beams” depicts a tense moment during an artillery bombardment, with Werner and Volkheimer sheltering in a cellar. Shells explode overhead, shaking the foundations as Werner imagines the meticulous calculations of the American artillerymen—cold, precise, and detached, much like divine intervention. The scene underscores the dehumanizing nature of war, where destruction is reduced to numbers and coordinates. Amid the chaos, Volkheimer shares a story about his great-grandfather, a sawyer who felled massive trees for European navies, drawing a parallel between the inevitability of war and the cyclical nature of life and death.
Volkheimer’s anecdote about the giant trees of Prussia serves as a metaphor for resilience and transformation. His great-grandfather took pride in imagining these trees reborn as masts, enduring battles and oceans before their final demise. The narrative contrasts the organic, slow passage of time with the sudden violence of war, as another shell shakes the cellar. Werner, in turn, reflects on prehistoric trees excavated from his homeland, hinting at the deep, often forgotten histories buried beneath the present. The exchange reveals their shared longing for escape, though their current reality is far from the freedom they envisioned.
The conversation shifts to Werner’s memories of his childhood, a stark contrast to the grim present. He recalls a simpler time—wildflowers growing amid industrial debris, Frau Elena’s fairy tales, and the comforting hum of bees. These fleeting moments of beauty and innocence are juxtaposed with the harshness of war, emphasizing the loss of innocence and the fragility of human dreams. The radio, once a source of wonder and possibility, now feels like a distant echo of a life that no longer exists. Werner’s nostalgia underscores the chapter’s theme of displacement and the irreversible changes wrought by conflict.
In the cellar’s darkness, the beams above them symbolize both physical and emotional burdens. The chapter weaves together past and present, nature and war, to explore themes of transformation, memory, and the enduring human spirit. Volkheimer’s story of the trees and Werner’s childhood reflections serve as poignant reminders of what was and what could have been. The artillery’s relentless roar frames their dialogue, a constant reminder of the impermanence of life and the enduring legacy of choices made in times of turmoil. The chapter closes with a sense of unresolved tension, leaving the characters—and readers—to ponder the weight of their histories.
FAQs
1. How does the imagery of the beams and trees serve as a metaphor for the characters’ experiences in the chapter?
Answer:
The beams holding up the cellar represent both physical and psychological support for Werner and Volkheimer during the artillery bombardment. Just as the beams bear the weight above them, the characters bear the weight of war and their pasts. Volkheimer’s story about the giant trees being repurposed as ship masts mirrors their own lives—uprooted from their origins (like Werner’s mining town and Volkheimer’s Prussian forests) and transformed for wartime purposes. The “second life” of the trees parallels how both men have been given new roles in the military, far from their homes, until they eventually face their own “second death” in battle.2. Analyze the significance of Werner’s reflection on coal being “once a green plant… one hundred million years ago.” How does this connect to the chapter’s themes?
Answer:
Werner’s thought about coal’s ancient origins underscores the novel’s themes of transformation and the passage of time. Just as organic matter transforms into coal over eons, Werner and Volkheimer have undergone profound changes—from innocent boys to soldiers. The immense timescale (“one hundred million years”) contrasts sharply with the fleeting moments of their lives during the war, emphasizing the fragility of human existence amid nature’s grand timeline. This reflection also ties to Werner’s nostalgia for his childhood (“wildflowers blooming up through rusty parts”), suggesting how memories, like fossils, preserve what time has erased.3. Compare the perspectives of Werner and Volkheimer on their pasts and current circumstances. What do their differing attitudes reveal?
Answer:
Volkheimer romanticizes his heritage (the sawyer’s pride in the trees’ “second life”) but admits he was “desperate to leave” Prussia, suggesting a conflicted relationship with his roots. Werner, meanwhile, recalls his childhood with bittersweet longing—the “fairy tales” and “voice on the radio” contrast with his grim reality. Their shared desire to escape their origins reveals how war distorts personal histories: Volkheimer frames his through labor and purpose, while Werner’s memories are tinged with lost innocence. Their exchange (“And now?”) hints at disillusionment, questioning whether their choices led to fulfillment or entrapment.4. How does Doerr use sensory details to convey the tension between wartime violence and natural cycles in this chapter?
Answer:
The “screaming” artillery and quaking cellar (auditory/tactile) clash with Volkheimer’s pastoral story of trees “sledding behind horses” (visual/tactile). This juxtaposition heightens the contrast between destruction and growth. The “sharp smell of tar” and “bees humming” in Werner’s memory evoke peaceful industry, while the “splintered beams” suggest unnatural rupture. Even the coal, formed by natural processes, is now fuel for war. These details frame war as an interruption of nature’s rhythms—the beams, like the characters, strain under forces they weren’t meant to bear.5. Critical Thinking: Why might Doerr have included Bernd and Jutta in Werner’s thoughts during this moment? What narrative purpose do they serve?
Answer:
Bernd’s corpse “moldering” represents Werner’s inescapable guilt and the war’s dehumanization, while Jutta symbolizes hope and connection to his moral compass. Their inclusion deepens Werner’s internal conflict: Bernd embodies the death he cannot escape, and Jutta represents the life he might reclaim. This duality reflects the chapter’s tension between destruction (artillery) and renewal (trees becoming masts). Their offstage presence also emphasizes isolation—Werner is physically trapped in the cellar, just as he’s psychologically trapped between his past ideals and current compromises.
Quotes
1. “The same sort of voice God uses, perhaps, when He calls souls to Him. This way, please.”
This haunting comparison of artillery commands to divine summons captures the chapter’s theme of war’s dehumanizing machinery, where life-and-death decisions are reduced to mathematical calculations.
2. “Great-Grandfather said he loved to imagine the big trees sledding behind teams of horses across Europe… until eventually they’d fall and die their second death.”
Volkheimer’s story about repurposed trees serves as a powerful metaphor for transformation and the cyclical nature of destruction - mirroring both the characters’ wartime experiences and the physical collapse around them.
3. “That chunk of coal was once a green plant, a fern or reed that lived one million years ago, or maybe two million, or maybe one hundred million. Can you imagine one hundred million years?”
Werner’s geological reflection underscores the chapter’s meditation on deep time and transformation, contrasting war’s immediate violence with nature’s slow processes of change.
4. “A world of wildflowers blooming up through the shapes of rusty cast-off parts… String and spit and wire and a voice on the radio offering a loom on which to spin his dreams.”
This nostalgic recollection represents the chapter’s emotional core - Werner’s longing for childhood innocence amidst war’s devastation, where beauty persisted in industrial ruins.