Under Fire by Henri Barbusse
First published: 1916
My edition published: 2010 (Digireads Publishing)
Pages: 352
Under Fire by Henri Barbusse (sub-titled The Story of a Squad) is regarded as an influential classic of First World War literature. It would maybe merit this purely from the fact that, very unusually, it was published while the war was still being fought, but it's also poetic and powerful. The book follows the sixth battalion through the tedium, banality, boredom and total horror of part of the French campaign. A memoir rather than a novel, ultimately more a rage against the futility of war than a 'My Life in the Trenches' account. Barbusse experienced combat over a period of seventeen months and heroically so, being cited twice for bravery. Once invalided behind the front lines he began to write this book.
I've struggled to get around to finishing it I'll confess, for the style is both dense with description and choppy in construct. As I ploughed on, though, I realized that this was perfect for the subject matter. The picture of the war that is painted is... well, I'd say almost sensual - grimly so - and very rooted in time and place. Characters come and go. Small things are narrated in brilliant, mundane detail.
My favourite section of the book was a protracted scene in which the soldiers discuss, glibly rather than sentimentally, the photographs they carry. This then leads to an examination of all the other things in their pockets, like maps, bits of newspaper, and worse. "Have you got a Boche paybook, louse-head, some phials of iodine, and a Browning? I've all that, and two knives." The conversation begins casual, and then becomes more intricate, a way to pass the time, almost a type of confessional game.
At times we observe the characters on route marches, making fleeting contact with civilians in small towns, or packing their kit, meditating on mud, or the joy of finding one egg to eat. Inevitably, despite days of boredom and nothing to do except talk about how hungry they are, or insult one another, the narrative leads steadily and inexorably towards the moment when the battalion will go "over the top." By this stage they are almost like automatons, ciphers, heading for this moment of destiny - something they fear and expect in equal measure.
And then, finally, in chapter twenty, they are there, poised, waiting. One sees the thought and the fear and the farewell that there is in their silence, their stillness, in the mask of tranquility which unnaturally grips their faces. They are not the kind of hero one thinks of, but their sacrifice has greater worth than they who have not seen them will ever be able to understand.
By the end of the bombardment scene my heart was pounding. It's both poetic and visceral, incredibly immediate. It reeks of the the battlefield. Worth reading the book for this section alone.
Not an easy read as a whole, either through style or subject matter. More a question of gritting your teeth and soldiering through, pausing every so often to almost grudgingly admire the imagery. The rewards are there in understanding and remembrance however. Which seems very fitting for this 100th anniversary year of the start of the conflict.
My edition published: 2010 (Digireads Publishing)
Pages: 352
Under Fire by Henri Barbusse (sub-titled The Story of a Squad) is regarded as an influential classic of First World War literature. It would maybe merit this purely from the fact that, very unusually, it was published while the war was still being fought, but it's also poetic and powerful. The book follows the sixth battalion through the tedium, banality, boredom and total horror of part of the French campaign. A memoir rather than a novel, ultimately more a rage against the futility of war than a 'My Life in the Trenches' account. Barbusse experienced combat over a period of seventeen months and heroically so, being cited twice for bravery. Once invalided behind the front lines he began to write this book.
I've struggled to get around to finishing it I'll confess, for the style is both dense with description and choppy in construct. As I ploughed on, though, I realized that this was perfect for the subject matter. The picture of the war that is painted is... well, I'd say almost sensual - grimly so - and very rooted in time and place. Characters come and go. Small things are narrated in brilliant, mundane detail.
My favourite section of the book was a protracted scene in which the soldiers discuss, glibly rather than sentimentally, the photographs they carry. This then leads to an examination of all the other things in their pockets, like maps, bits of newspaper, and worse. "Have you got a Boche paybook, louse-head, some phials of iodine, and a Browning? I've all that, and two knives." The conversation begins casual, and then becomes more intricate, a way to pass the time, almost a type of confessional game.
At times we observe the characters on route marches, making fleeting contact with civilians in small towns, or packing their kit, meditating on mud, or the joy of finding one egg to eat. Inevitably, despite days of boredom and nothing to do except talk about how hungry they are, or insult one another, the narrative leads steadily and inexorably towards the moment when the battalion will go "over the top." By this stage they are almost like automatons, ciphers, heading for this moment of destiny - something they fear and expect in equal measure.
And then, finally, in chapter twenty, they are there, poised, waiting. One sees the thought and the fear and the farewell that there is in their silence, their stillness, in the mask of tranquility which unnaturally grips their faces. They are not the kind of hero one thinks of, but their sacrifice has greater worth than they who have not seen them will ever be able to understand.
By the end of the bombardment scene my heart was pounding. It's both poetic and visceral, incredibly immediate. It reeks of the the battlefield. Worth reading the book for this section alone.
Not an easy read as a whole, either through style or subject matter. More a question of gritting your teeth and soldiering through, pausing every so often to almost grudgingly admire the imagery. The rewards are there in understanding and remembrance however. Which seems very fitting for this 100th anniversary year of the start of the conflict.