Fictions de la Grande Guerre: Variations littéraires sur 14–18 (review)

While the war that was supposed to end all wars has now finally faded from living memory, it still remains a potent symbol in our collective consciousness and continues to inspire scholars, creative artists, and the general reading public. The present study is particularly valuable for a number of reasons. Not least among these is the impressive range of source material it makes available. This goes well beyond the familiar names: Barbusse, Dorgèles, Céline, Giono, Remarque, Jünger, to include many lesser-known writers, such as: René Benjamin, Adrien Bertrand, Philippe Barrès, Louis Dumur, Max Deauville, Jean Bernier, Pierre Chaîne. Schoentjes argues that today’s predominant literary image of the Great War has been shaped by these authors too, stressing that ‘il y a de grandes pages à découvrir aussi chez des auteurs mineurs’ (p. 27). Instead of relegating these to mere footnotes, or resorting to generalisation, he provides ample quotations from many almost inaccessible works. The resulting panorama is comprehensive and well-balanced. For a combination of historical and cultural reasons, the modern reader has developed a predilection for anti-militarist war writing. It is useful therefore to be reminded of the immense popularity enjoyed by patriotic writing during the early years of the war, when the public craved accounts in which ‘la violence personnelle était mise en scène à grand renfort de détails sanglants’ (p. 123). An accurate assessment of Great War fiction would therefore be incomplete without ‘des lectures qui présentent les soldats autrement que comme des victimes qui méritent la pitié’ (p. 253). This ambitious study embraces texts across several cultures and spanning almost an entire century, yet the essential quest remains clearly in focus. Having identified the paradox that ‘c’est à travers des fictions que les lecteurs appréhendent l’univers d’une guerre dont ils cherchent à pénétrer la réalité, quand ce n’est pas la vérité’ (p. 48), Schoentjes proceeds with an analysis of recurrent themes, highlighting similarities and differences. The nature and rationale of violence are studied in some detail. Hand-to-hand combat was rare in the Great War, and Schoentjes examines the portrayal of the more inhuman face of war: machine guns, artillery bombardments, poison gas. Trench warfare led to an acute sense of exile as the soldier sought ‘à s’inscrire dans un lieu, à le faire sien’ (p. 143), giving rise to what psychologists have called the Robinson syndrome. Few can have experienced this alienation more acutely than the colonial troops drafted into service by both French and British, a point brilliantly illustrated by Jérôme and Jean Tharaud’s La Randonnée de Samba Diouf (1922). Aside from its undoubted intrinsic literary merit, this novel reminds us of the forgotten participants in the conflict and further underlines the sheer complexity of war fiction as a cultural phenomenon. Schoentjes has given us an illuminating and perceptive study, which involves the reader both at an intellectual and an emotional level. It should prove an invaluable asset to all serious students of war fiction for many years to come.