the BEAUTY And SORROW

the BEAUTY And SORROW

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WpMetadataNoticeDernière publication jeu., juil. 28, 2022
THE BEAUTY AND THE SORROW AN INTIMATE HISTORY OF THE FIRST WORLD WAR BY PETER ENGLUND TRANSLATED BY PETER GRAVESRELEASE DATE: NOV. 11, 2011 The Great War, as experienced by 20 ordinary people. There is no shortage of histories of World War I written from the viewpoints of the generals and statesmen who drove the grand strategies. Swedish historian Englund (The Battle that Shook Europe: Poltova and the Birth of the Russian Empire, 2002, etc.) takes a different approach, creating a history of the war as perceived by 20 individuals scattered across the globe. Among them: an Australian woman driving ambulances for the Serbian army; a Venezuelan soldier of fortune in the Ottoman cavalry; the American wife of a Polish aristocrat, whose home was wrecked and then turned into a hospital for typhus victims by the occupying Germans; a French civil servant; a Scotsman fighting Germans in East Africa, a 12-year-old German girl, and a dozen others. The war began for them in an explosion of optimistic patriotism but descended inexorably into cynicism, horror, suffering, privation and exhaustion. Through it all they endured, trying to make sense of it and bear up with their dignity and humanity intact. There are adventures and battles, of course, but also many moments of quiet contemplation with closely observed details of street scenes, restaurants, railway stations and deserted battlefields. Englund unobtrusively includes helpful background information within the text or in footnotes. The text is based largely on diaries, letters and memoirs, from which the author quotes copiously, but most of the narrative is his own, an artful condensation of his source materials into brief passages faithful to the experiences and emotional states of his subjects. Largely written in the present tense to maintain the sense of immediacy, it is by turns pithy, lyrical, colorful, poignant and endlessly absorbing.
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Russia... that is where everything started. The perfect snow in winter, the perfect house that kept you warm and cosy, and for Octavia Zorina Radmilla it was the only real home she had even known. She was only sixteen but in 1784 many people were already wed or soon to be, Octavia was one of those soon to be types. A humble rock upon her finger, looping her pale skinned ring finger, with some sort of gold plated metal. Octavia Milo. The name didn't quite seem to fit but what is a name other than a way to identify a body. She would wear the name with pride, knowing she would be the talk of the town for marrying Spyder Dragan Milo. A dark soul, or so it appeared. Ever since the boy had been born something hung over his head like a shadow but that is what made him so wonderful to young Octavia. A curse, a curse with no rules, or at least rules that always changed. No matter how hard the two teens tried, there seemed to be no loopholes. We won't start at the beginning, that won't make sense, at least not this time. Spyder and Octavia were doomed to be this way, living life after life trying to find one another but every time they remembered who they were, they would die... or at least one of them would, leaving the other two options, to continue until their next life cycle or to end it and try again. Of course it is never that simple. Especially when someone keeps changing the rules. The only stable thing they knew, was that they will always remember before they die, whoever had died first the previous life, would be the first to remember. and they would always find each other. No matter how long it took.

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