All Quiet on the Western Front, by Erich Maria Remarque. Pub 1928. Translation by A.W. Wheen, pub 1929.

Over the summer, we rewatched the 2022 film version of this story. I was impressed and moved by it the first time I saw it, and the second viewing delivered the same visceral horror and devastation. I’d heard that the book was even more powerful. I was less engaged with the novel, perhaps because much of the shock of the events and the ending were removed by familiarity but also due to the full sensory experience of the film.

The novel is very much based on Remarque’s own experiences in WWI (albeit he survives), so much so that the character and his family members share the names of the author and his family. What stands out in the novel is the obliteration of everything – the landscape, the personalities, the hope – and the emergence of such strong camaraderie among the soldiers, as if, despite everything happening to and around them, they cling to that remnant of humanity: commitment to and care for the collective.

The most haunting section is about Paul’s return home on an extended leave of several weeks. The time away from the front, having to be cheery and optimistic to family and neighbours, all the while knowing that his idyll at home must end, is more a torture than a blessing. So much so, when a later opportunity arises to return home for good, he opts to remain in hospital with a comrade, only to watch his friend die and himself be returned to the front once more. The follow-up novel, The Road Back, deals entirely with the lives of those who return after the war, and their experiences as changed men in a changed world.

Many readers today may encounter such novels or films without recognizing the lessons they hold about war. These works reveal not only that wars often grow from misplaced pride between nations and rarely reflect the will or even the understanding of ordinary people, but also that, whatever the cause, war consumes human lives as its raw material, leaving no survivor unchanged.

I do wonder if a more modern translation might have read a bit better (apparently, the more recent version is both truer to the original and more complete). I know that the experience of seeing the film prior to reading caused me to anticipate several scenes and engagements, some of which didn’t occur in the novel. At the same time, I gained a greater appreciation for the filmic presentation of a clear story, as the novel is somewhat dreamlike in its narration, moving fluidly from interior voice to exterior experiences, and skipping between vignettes in the way someone reminiscing might; that a well-paced and coherent screenplay could be wrested from this is impressive.

I likely will seek out some of Remarque’s other works, especially the follow-up novel and perhaps the newer translation of this one. Most of his work promises to be semi-autobiographical and bleak, with many novels set in or based on life in and around Germany during the wars.

Fate: little book library (I won’t read this one again).

3 – before 1939
9 – made into a film
12 – a book I should read
13 – somewhere I’ve never been
19 – based on true
21 – translation
25 – new author to me
31 – history/politics
35 – banned (by the Nazis but still…)