The Living Unknown Soldier
Jean-Yves Le Naour
This book certainly has the ambitious scope common to many historical works; it sets out to describe the condition of postwar France following the greatest catastrophe the country had seen since its revolution (we're talking the Great War here). Its goal, to see the tragedy of France's lost generation through the lens of an unidentified soldier, does come across eventually, but not until after the reader is reluctantly dragged through a bog of muddled facts and names that seem to pose no relevance. Though Le Naour throws in the cursory connectors to the main story arc, that of France's most famous unidentified soldier, they fail to resonate and instead create an overlying sense of boredom. Le Naour only highlights this by throwing in citations on nearly every sentence and in grammatically unpalatable places.
Le Naour has traced an interesting thread of plot, and his observations about France and its grieving process are spot-on. I, however, am a fan of subtlety. This book perfectly illustrates my preference: the parts of the book that focus on beating the reader over the head with facts and tangents instead lose the reader and create contempt where pity is the appropriate emotion. The work excels, however, when it illuminates the status of the country through the lens of the story of so-called Anthelme Mangin. Le Naour's ability to showcase the absolute raw emotions of loss in such a devestating situation come through quite clearly, if only he'd have some confidence in his ability to write and thus influence the reader's understanding.
The first half of the book is regrettably incoherent and rambling, but when Le Naour picks up the story of the poor unknown soldier he creates an affecting narrative that shines light on one of war's forgotten consequences: the plight of the missing, not to mention of the insane. The second half does not shine so brightly as to blind the reader to the weaknesses of the first, but it does redeem the book as an interesting account of grief and the thorough impact of the Great War on those left behind with no semblance of closure.
Grade: B-
Jean-Yves Le Naour
This book certainly has the ambitious scope common to many historical works; it sets out to describe the condition of postwar France following the greatest catastrophe the country had seen since its revolution (we're talking the Great War here). Its goal, to see the tragedy of France's lost generation through the lens of an unidentified soldier, does come across eventually, but not until after the reader is reluctantly dragged through a bog of muddled facts and names that seem to pose no relevance. Though Le Naour throws in the cursory connectors to the main story arc, that of France's most famous unidentified soldier, they fail to resonate and instead create an overlying sense of boredom. Le Naour only highlights this by throwing in citations on nearly every sentence and in grammatically unpalatable places.
Le Naour has traced an interesting thread of plot, and his observations about France and its grieving process are spot-on. I, however, am a fan of subtlety. This book perfectly illustrates my preference: the parts of the book that focus on beating the reader over the head with facts and tangents instead lose the reader and create contempt where pity is the appropriate emotion. The work excels, however, when it illuminates the status of the country through the lens of the story of so-called Anthelme Mangin. Le Naour's ability to showcase the absolute raw emotions of loss in such a devestating situation come through quite clearly, if only he'd have some confidence in his ability to write and thus influence the reader's understanding.
The first half of the book is regrettably incoherent and rambling, but when Le Naour picks up the story of the poor unknown soldier he creates an affecting narrative that shines light on one of war's forgotten consequences: the plight of the missing, not to mention of the insane. The second half does not shine so brightly as to blind the reader to the weaknesses of the first, but it does redeem the book as an interesting account of grief and the thorough impact of the Great War on those left behind with no semblance of closure.
Grade: B-
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