Regeneration
Pat Barker
In a class about the literature of World War I, you'd expect the literature to naturally run out of interesting topics after a while. A war novel is a war novel is a war novel, right? Not so, my friend, and perhaps this is particularly true with literature written well after the experience itself. We would expect this to be a hurdle for Barker (and indeed, any writer of removed historical fiction), but she instead creates a compelling narrative both particular to its time and circumstances and relevant to the postwar experiences of soldiers returning from Iraq today. Barker may suffer from a bit of a lack of focus on her characters, but when they come through they really shine, to say nothing of the consistently glistening prose and accurate, compelling descriptions of profoundly affected veterans.
The narrative centers on a historical doctor and a selection of his mental patients, all taking place in England while the war is still going on. The doctor is charged with restoring his patients to battle duty as best he can, and the novel thus raises important questions about battle readiness and, of course, what makes men go crazy in the first place. The descriptions of the soldiers seem chillingly accurate, as they wake up from nightmares on a nightly basis and have periodic blackouts. One insists that his spine has been broken even though multiple doctors have told him that his spine has been fine all along- he paralyzes himself by sheer subconscious will. While Barker may seem to be callous by implying that the soldiers themselves have caused some of their problems, we return to sympathy through Doctor Rivers's endless devotion to the care of his patients. He is always delicate and, by the end of the novel, allows himself to be changed and moved by them. The book is as much a work of portraiture as it is a war story, and Barker is definitely successful.
This success is somewhat hampered by the book's wide focus, however. We get elaborate sketches of numerous characters, but some of the implications of their personalities are a little too hidden. I was often surprised when Barker tacitly referred to a detail that I had somehow missed, despite its apparent importance. Though Siegfried Sassoon is trumpeted as a main character both by author and by blurb, the reader becomes much more familiar with the patient Prior and the ex-patient Burns. Sassoon remains aloof and fairly elitist, which is perhaps an aspect of his character but still creates some distance that invites confusion when Rivers pays homage at the end of the text. I could see the transformation in Rivers, but I could not see how Sassoon had brought it about. I think that Barker's text would be greatly enhanced by a bit more attention to simply showing and allowing the characters to affect each other they way they naturally do rather than forcing false-seeming conclusions.
All told, however, this is a profoundly moving book. The characterization may be a bit muddy, but those who do come through are astonishingly sharp. Barker has managed to write a compelling and gritty war book without presenting a single battle scene outside of a few secondhand glimpses into soldiers' memories. Credibility is in no way an issue, and had the book not informed me that it was written in 1992, I would credit it to a World War I nurse (the last of whom just died, incidentally). Barker has put together a moving testament to the forgotten victims of World War I and indeed all wars- the mentally affected who are not cowards but who battle demons worse than any tactile enemy.
Grade: A-
Pat Barker
In a class about the literature of World War I, you'd expect the literature to naturally run out of interesting topics after a while. A war novel is a war novel is a war novel, right? Not so, my friend, and perhaps this is particularly true with literature written well after the experience itself. We would expect this to be a hurdle for Barker (and indeed, any writer of removed historical fiction), but she instead creates a compelling narrative both particular to its time and circumstances and relevant to the postwar experiences of soldiers returning from Iraq today. Barker may suffer from a bit of a lack of focus on her characters, but when they come through they really shine, to say nothing of the consistently glistening prose and accurate, compelling descriptions of profoundly affected veterans.
The narrative centers on a historical doctor and a selection of his mental patients, all taking place in England while the war is still going on. The doctor is charged with restoring his patients to battle duty as best he can, and the novel thus raises important questions about battle readiness and, of course, what makes men go crazy in the first place. The descriptions of the soldiers seem chillingly accurate, as they wake up from nightmares on a nightly basis and have periodic blackouts. One insists that his spine has been broken even though multiple doctors have told him that his spine has been fine all along- he paralyzes himself by sheer subconscious will. While Barker may seem to be callous by implying that the soldiers themselves have caused some of their problems, we return to sympathy through Doctor Rivers's endless devotion to the care of his patients. He is always delicate and, by the end of the novel, allows himself to be changed and moved by them. The book is as much a work of portraiture as it is a war story, and Barker is definitely successful.
This success is somewhat hampered by the book's wide focus, however. We get elaborate sketches of numerous characters, but some of the implications of their personalities are a little too hidden. I was often surprised when Barker tacitly referred to a detail that I had somehow missed, despite its apparent importance. Though Siegfried Sassoon is trumpeted as a main character both by author and by blurb, the reader becomes much more familiar with the patient Prior and the ex-patient Burns. Sassoon remains aloof and fairly elitist, which is perhaps an aspect of his character but still creates some distance that invites confusion when Rivers pays homage at the end of the text. I could see the transformation in Rivers, but I could not see how Sassoon had brought it about. I think that Barker's text would be greatly enhanced by a bit more attention to simply showing and allowing the characters to affect each other they way they naturally do rather than forcing false-seeming conclusions.
All told, however, this is a profoundly moving book. The characterization may be a bit muddy, but those who do come through are astonishingly sharp. Barker has managed to write a compelling and gritty war book without presenting a single battle scene outside of a few secondhand glimpses into soldiers' memories. Credibility is in no way an issue, and had the book not informed me that it was written in 1992, I would credit it to a World War I nurse (the last of whom just died, incidentally). Barker has put together a moving testament to the forgotten victims of World War I and indeed all wars- the mentally affected who are not cowards but who battle demons worse than any tactile enemy.
Grade: A-
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