The
Great War was a huge game-changer. Modern warfare changed the
landscape, literally: many of the terms in our current lexicon are
thanks to the war, which we have the great misfortune of knowing now was
the "first" world war.
It was unimaginable.
The Innocents goes a long way into making modern readers understand the horrors of this particular war.
Identical
twins Iris and Dorthea had a difficult life. Their mother died at their
birth, their father died during their childhood — so they were
essentially "raised" by their (much) older brother in the opulent wealth
of Eastern élite at the turn of the twentieth century. In his
defense, he didn't really quite understand what it took to do that. Any
mistakes were made out of ignorance, more so than intentional neglect.
Despite
their privilege and opportunity, the women came to life when taking
action during adversity. First, it was the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory
fire of 1911, which was considered one of the worst disasters of New
York City until the unfathomable horror that occurred early in the next
century. Soon, their beloved France was deep in war, and America was
poised on the brink. These women again wanted to make a difference, and
the American Red Cross sent them to the French front to work as nurses.
Never were they more focused than in the field hospital where, as les anges, they spoke quietly to the men who lived long enough to make it to their care, wiping fear and blood from soldiers' brows.
Even
in the midst of war, they never totally escape their contemporaries,
however, encountering acquaintances, not to mention at least one fighter
pilot who could tell the difference between identical twins. In the
madness of war, their lives were forever changed.
Author Caroline Seebohm's
characters are recognizable, but not familiar. She may introduce the
efficient hospital administrator, but there is no one quite like the
efficient and calm Sister. Fighter pilots are never quite like Harry, a
hero of Harvard's football field and hockey rink who took risks in the
air much like he did on the ice. Maurice starts out totally unassuming,
but there's something about him that catches the attention of readers
(and a certain identical twin). The rich, the vapid, the completely
clueless Americans file past with names recognized in history and
literature, adding credence to the twins' understanding of their life
before the front.
Seebohm captures beautifully the
horror and darkness of the Great War, the degradation of spirit as the
days continue and the unimaginable unfolds before them. Each chapter has
a date and location on it, so readers know where they are in history
and watch the war — and life beyond the war — progress.
This
is a worthy novel to join the genre that captures the loss of innocence
the Great War brought about. Thanks to BBC dramas of this time period
making their way across the pond, I hope more readers will seek
Seebohm's bold and unflinching novel. It is worthy of their time.
Showing posts with label Great War. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Great War. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Friday, November 11, 2011
A Century Ago, A World Ago
Ninety-three years ago today, the Great War ended. It was a brutal war in ways we never imagined. We found and used techniques and technology that changed the fundamental application and understanding of "war."
Barbed wire, mustard gas, foxholes, trench warfare, machine guns, shell shock, the Lost Generation, no man's land — thanks to what we now call World War I, all of these are part of our lexicon. Every nation was appalled, sickened and saddened by that which we had wrought: mass casualties, mass destruction, world war.
Think about that phrase for a moment: world war. It didn't exist before the 20th century.
In the wake of the Great War, the World War, the War to End All Wars, nations tried to come together to prevent another. They established international organizations to address issues and concerns globally, to embrace pacifism, to bring about peace in our time. With the Treaty of Versailles, they thought they would keep it from happening again.
We all know how that worked out.
World War I officially ended with a cease fire scheduled for 11 a.m. November 11, 1918. We began by recognizing Armistice Day, then evolving it into Veterans Day, for all who serve.
Nearly a century later, we rely still on those who have and will give all. "Thanks" isn't enough, but I hope it will do until we can give them what they really deserve: no reason to take up arms.
The fields in Flanders, Belgium, where the earth was churned by battle and burial of the casualties of war, were covered in poppies. John McCrae wrote this memorable poem after presiding over a friend's funeral.
Barbed wire, mustard gas, foxholes, trench warfare, machine guns, shell shock, the Lost Generation, no man's land — thanks to what we now call World War I, all of these are part of our lexicon. Every nation was appalled, sickened and saddened by that which we had wrought: mass casualties, mass destruction, world war.
Think about that phrase for a moment: world war. It didn't exist before the 20th century.
In the wake of the Great War, the World War, the War to End All Wars, nations tried to come together to prevent another. They established international organizations to address issues and concerns globally, to embrace pacifism, to bring about peace in our time. With the Treaty of Versailles, they thought they would keep it from happening again.
We all know how that worked out.
World War I officially ended with a cease fire scheduled for 11 a.m. November 11, 1918. We began by recognizing Armistice Day, then evolving it into Veterans Day, for all who serve.
Nearly a century later, we rely still on those who have and will give all. "Thanks" isn't enough, but I hope it will do until we can give them what they really deserve: no reason to take up arms.
The fields in Flanders, Belgium, where the earth was churned by battle and burial of the casualties of war, were covered in poppies. John McCrae wrote this memorable poem after presiding over a friend's funeral.
In Flanders Fields
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)

