Maybe I've reached the point in which I've read too many books. 
 it doesn't sound possible, considering that may users here on Goodreads have read 3-4 times the books I've read (and also because you just CAN'T have read too many books). Maybe it's just that I read books that are too similar to each other; I can't otherwise explain why I've found a novel that everyone else seems to adore embarrassingly predictable. 
 You read the beginning of each chapter of All the light we cannot see and you just know what is going to happen. Every new character you meet, you just know what his or her fate will be. You reach the end and you realize that the 90% of the characters are totally inconsequential to the plot, things would have gone the same way even if they were not in the book. 
 The female protagonist, in particular, shines for her pointlessness. She loses her sight as a child and (of course) her beloved father starts to build miniature models of the town the live in to help her orienting. This is as sweet as predictable, so typical of those stories written for adults but that keep that "fairy tale" tone that is so fashionable now. Especially in the first half of the book, Marie-Laure does nothing, thinks nothing, contributes to nothing; she mainly whines and has melodramatic thoughts. In the second half she gets a little better but in the end you understand that she exist only because she gives her father a poetic reason to build a clever hiding place for the precious stone that is at the centre of the plot. 
 The male protagonist, Werner, is a bit better, at least his part of the story is not so boring but just as much as predictable. Sensitive and brilliant, he is admitted to an exclusive boarding school for young Hitlers but of course he is the only one not attracted by the violent pack mentality nurtured by the school. And of course he befriends the only other dreamy boy of the school (and we already know what a sad destiny this one will have, since line one). and, of course, he will be more or less involuntary involved in some civilian massacre and he'll live to expiate it. 
 Besides being tiresome, boring and embarrassing predictable, this novel is, above all, fake. The third person omniscient narrator who speaks to an adult public like they were five years old, with that allusive tone that we are used to hear in movies like "Le fabuleux destin d'Amelie Poulain ", both detached and fairy-talish to the point of cheesy. Short chapters, very short sentences, all sounds forced and conterfeited.As a confirmation, the prose gets better in the second half, when the author forgets to pretend and actually starts to write a real novel. From this point we get some very good moments, with intense imaginary, that could have risen my final rate, but I was still so much irritated by the first part that I couldn't bring myself to give more the one star. 
 This is a very cunning book and I cannot but think that part of its success is due to the fact that people just love sad, melodramatic WW2 stories.