This was a really solid WW2 story. Honestly, I was not engaged with the plot to start, since it seemed to be opening up similar to many stories told about this time. I feel terrible saying that, since these novels, though their exact stories may be fictional, tell of the horror and suffering that millions endured. And to judge these re-tellings seems, in part, to be a judgement on their experiences. And that, no matter what I feel about the novel, could not be farther from the truth. As with any similar family saga of the age, I cried, sobbed really, all throughout. There is nothing, not even the type of repetition seen in this genre, that can lighten or detract from what happened to people during this piece of history. What Vianne suffered, both in regards to physical pain and emotional trauma, to her body and soul, what she saw happen to her friends, how fast her child(ren) had to grow up, and her own personal transformation into a person she never should have had to become to survive, is beyond imagination. No words can do it justice. But stories like this must be told. To show us what we can endure and help us remember, so that we do not let it happen again where it is within our ability to prevent. Isabelle's story was new, not the resistance fighting, but the escape route through the mountains that helped so many downed pilots escape. Overlooked perhaps because what are 117 lives saved in the grand scheme of WW2, but not a story that is often told - definitely not one I had come across before. Eye-opening and compelling. And the risks she took...whether in the end she truly believed it was worth it or not...are staggering. And Vianne's own risks, both small and then larger, are not one bit less extraordinary. It's the small things, the ones you don't think about, that truly belie the terror and horror. The inability to admit and show love, for REAL fear of loss or manipulation. The inability to trust anyone, at times even people you have known for years. The small, and large, daily cruelties (even when done with regret by those who see that it's wrong) that strip a subjugated people (forced to do unspeakable things to save and try to provide for their loved ones) of any dignity and, for most, take away the will to fight or defend themselves (or take away any semblance of choice in their lives) are what this story, and any like it, are about. And the indomitable spirit that some people have, to keep going, to fight on, until they can see the end. For Isabelle, that spirit turned out to be all she had. And when she saw the success, she had everything she had wanted, and let go, in that moment. And that hurts the most for a reader - to see someone fight so hard for so long and not have the strength to withstand the happiness when they "win." But for that character, that person, that's what they wanted. And they deserve it, after that kind of fight. And for Vianne, to let Ari/Daniel go, when everything was finally coming back together, another loss to live through even at the end...the heartbreak never ends. So yes, this was not my personal favorite re-telling, (I thought Sarah's Key was more compelling written and don't get me started on how hard The Bronze Horseman hit me), but the fact that I can sit here and write that from the comfort of my home...it's a commentary on the writing only, the author only. Because the stories represent more than that. And that is beyond reproach. The flashbacks to present are a slightly overused device, but were vague enough that I truly didn't know, until the very end, which sister was speaking, which was cool. I also enjoyed the symmetry of the sisters, both, eventually, helping but misleading the other for their safety. Beautiful family reality.

*As a note, I think there was a huge plot hole with the name the book - if Isabelle's true last name means Nightingale in French (and it does, I looked), using that as her code name is the dumbest possible thing to do. Even with her fake papers and her fake name, you cannot tell me that not a single person would think to check anyone with that last name and questions them. The Germans were nothing if not methodical. And her father freaking worked for them! It would be the same as if my name were "Maria Mariposa (the Spanish word for butterfly) and I was a thief who decided to call myself "The Butterfly" - wth? That's the kind of unfortunate oversight, because it sounds cool as a code name, that is overlooked and takes away from the depth and feeling of a story like this.*