Points Summer Book Club

TDMN editorial page editor Keven Ann Willey writes to say:

In some ways, Remarque's writing reminds me of Hemingway's. It is very plain, for the most part, unsentimental. The fact that his word choice and sentence structure is unadorned is what, in large part, makes his writing, for me, so powerful.

In one early passage, I had to actually re-read it several times to make sure he was indeed describing the horror I thought he was. He was so matter of fact about it, that I thought at first that maybe I was seeing something in it not really there. But no, it was there. And the fact that the horror was rather understated, rather than dripping with drama and hyperventilating adjectives, made the image he painted in my mind all the more moving.

One example of what I’m talking about is where they’re talking about the rations. Says Katczinsky in response to the cook who is insisting that “everybody” be on hand before he’ll serve rations. Kat tells the cook that those not present “won’t be fed by you today. They’re either in the dressing station or pushing up daisies.”

The cook was disconcerted by this answer as “the facts dawned on him” and complained that he’d cooked for 150 men. Says Kropp: “Then for once we’ll have enough. Come on, let’s begin!”

So much for the fact that the double rations are because nearly half the company has been killed or wounded.

Another example is the boot conversation early in the second chapter already heavily referenced on this blog. Concludes Paul in his understated narration: “We have lost all sense of other considerations, because they are artificial. Only the facts are real and important for us. And good boots are scarce.”

No apology, no overt drama. Just reality. Powerful reality.

Keven draws attention to how the lack of artifice or style in Remarque's writing serves his moral and artistic end: to show a soldier's life as it really was. I had somehow gotten through high school and college without reading "All Quiet," and I too was struck by the simplicity of it. But as Keven observes, and as is true in Hemingway, a plain style by no means amounts to simplicity. The jarring directness of Remarque's prose makes it impossible to hide the horrific behind poetic phrasing.

Hemingway, of course, served in World War I. I wonder if his direct prose style derived in any way from his war experience. Dr. Allums, do you know? Readers?