Don’t @ me!


Bit of a trudge for me. Mostly owing to the strange narrative interjections with prescriptive historical context… about history. And then I just can’t stand military/war fiction in general, so I knew this wouldn’t be a favourite. I honestly think Anna Karenina is better constructed and a masterclass on introducing themes back-to-back, building a network of connective tissue with a lot of payoff without the prescriptive methods of narrative interjections. Fiction is self generated and when authors use that to tell readers what’s right—even when they’re certainly aligned with my own ideology re: politics and nationalism and history—it generates a cognitive dissonance that really bothers me.

On top of this, description was really centered on generalities and I prefer specificity. On one hand, there’s insights that bring you into a scene, such as noting a woman being beautiful for having disproportionate lips or friends that meet after a time taking a while to find their footing for a bit. On the other it dumbs things down fairly often, reducing people to bland generalities, always always, again, around attractiveness. Something that is so subjective and pointless.

When we get that Downton Abbey vibe and I start caring about these rich people, the voice is compelling. Anytime I care about rich people, the author is a wizard. But it became too infrequent and the interjections more intrusive.

It absolutely has some fantastic stuff to say on history and war and power and gender dynamics (from time to time)… but it also isn’t really anything new. If I hadn’t read about these subjects. Especially if I were in high school or early 20s, I think this could be a eye opening read. I love books that trick you into learning. But it became something of a dead horse being written. Points were being made after a scene that made the point already. It’s so explicit it is grating. Over time, it does feel like it’s beating a dead horse.