My rating: 1 of 5 stars
Light tells the story of a young boy who, through wince-worthy coincidence, finds himself caught up in a strange echo of events from World War Two.
You can probably guess from that sentence alone, I didn’t get on with this book. It’s not say that I demand realism from fiction. Far from it. If something is well-written, and exciting, I don’t care if the protagonist is blatantly manipulated into position. God, I forgive anything from Elinor M. Brent-Dyer and she is the QUEEN of coincidence. But Light just felt like it was written by numbers.
There was some interest here in the shift of perspective and narrative voices to provide a wider point of view upon events. But that interest was brief, and particularly negated when it came to the events of the final few pages. I’ll not spoil them here but when you have your lead protagonist narrating in a flashback structure, you pretty much blunt any suspense over their narrative journey. Throw them into a life-threatening situation? Doesn’t matter, cos you know they’re narrating the book so they survived.
Light was well written in parts but these problems of structure and plot contrivance managed to detract from what could have been a much greater whole.