Read this while very sick and helped me have a reason to cry. Though not extremely original, (most of) the characters were allowed the time needed to grow and become rounded and juicy. Isabelle was my favorite character for a large part of the story, but its place was slowly taken by that of Vianne. Perhaps tragedy does make one more flexible.
They couldn‘t touch my heart. They couldn‘t change who I was inside. My body … they broke that in the first days, but not my heart, V. Whatever he did, it was to your body, and your body will heal
I am a mother and mothers don‘t have the luxury of falling apart in front of their children, even when they are afraid, even when their children are adults.
She knew now that no one could be neutral—not anymore—and as afraid as she was of risking Sophie‘s life, she was suddenly more afraid of letting her daughter grow up in a world where good people did nothing to stop evil, where a good woman could turn her back on a friend in need. She reached for the toddler, took him in her arms.
“I think, as this war goes on, we will all have to look more deeply. These questions are not about them, but about us.”
Vianne felt tears sting her eyes. “I don‘t know what to do anymore. Antoine always took care of everything. The Wehrmacht and the Gestapo are more than I can handle.”
“Don‘t think about who they are. Think about who you are and what sacrifices you can live with and what will break you.”
“Tante Isabelle says it‘s better to be bold than meek. She says if you jump off a cliff at least you‘ll fly before you fall.”
“Ah, yes. That sounds like Isabelle. Perhaps you should ask her about the time she broke her wrist jumping from a tree she shouldn‘t have been climbing in the first place. Come on, let‘s go to school.”
“I would have killed myself before I let one of them move into my house,” Hélène said.
“Would you, Hélène? Would you really?” Vianne said. “And would you kill your children first or throw them out into the street to survive on their own?”
