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maxjrosenthal's review against another edition
3.0
Uneven, as you'd probably expect of a collection of articles. One or two that are truly incredible, though.
laurapk's review against another edition
3.0
The intro was strong but the constant need for censorship and the lack of details slowly lost me. The beginning was full of little insights that made me go "aha!" "A man may express himself in the pitch or tilt of his hat, but not with a helmet. There is only one way to wear a helmet. It won't go on any other way. (...) with your helmet on you are a mushroom in a bed of mushrooms." or: "You can read character by the feet and shoes. There are perpetually tired feet, and nervous, quick feet period to remember a troopship is to remember the feet."
The stories of the blitz were the ones that were the most poignant for me: "the blitz (...) in London start with fire and explosion and then almost invariably (the people) end up with some very tiny detail which crept in and sat and became the symbol of the whole thing for them. (...) It is as though the mind could not take in the terror and the noise of the bombs and the general horror and so fastened on something small and comprehensible and ordinary. (...) 'It's the glass,' says one man, 'the sound in the morning of the broken glass being swept up, the vicious flat tinkle. That is the thing I remember more than anything else' (...) 'My dog broke a window the other day and my wife swept up the glass and a cold shiver went over me.' (...) One elderly man lost his whole house by fire. He saved an old rocking chair. He took it everywhere with him; wouldn’t leave it for a moment. He sat on the ground beside it, but you couldn't get it away from him."
And there were some fairly humorous tales, like the good-luck charm Goat, the discussions on how the English treat Vegetables ("the English usually boil their vegetables to a submissive, sticky pulp, in which the shape and, as some say, the flavor have long since been overcome. (...) for example, the average English cook regards a vegetable with suspicion. It is his conviction that unless the vegetable is dominated and thoroughly convinced that it must offer no nonsense, it is likely either to revolt or to demand dominion status. Consequently only those vegetables are encouraged which are docile and capable of learning English ways. The Brussels sprout is a good example of the acceptable vegetable. It is first allowed to become large and fierce. It is then picked from its stem and the daylights are boiled out of it. At the end of a few hours the little wild lump of green has this integrated into a curious grayish paste. It is then considered fit for consumption. The same method is followed with cabbage. While the cabbage is boiling it is poked and beaten until, when it is served, it has given up its character and tastes exactly like Brussels sprouts, which in turn taste like cabbage. Carrots are allowed to remain yellow but nothing else of their essential character is maintained. (...) in the American gardens certain English spies have reported they have seen American soldiers fooling and eating raw carrots and turnips and onions. It is strange to an American that the English, who love dogs and rarely eat them, nevertheless are brutal with vegetables. It is just one of those national differences which are unfathomable."), or the way the island of Ventotene was captured and the way the Germans were tricked to surrender.
But overall, as soon as Steinbeck left British soil, I started to lose interest, and by the end I was skimming through the articles. It's hard to capture gold when you have to hide so much away. Still, some insight was very valuable: "we get along very well as individuals but just the moment we become the Americans and they become the British trouble is not far behind." Might be a more interesting read for history buffs; I prefer more detailed, personalized accounts.
The stories of the blitz were the ones that were the most poignant for me: "the blitz (...) in London start with fire and explosion and then almost invariably (the people) end up with some very tiny detail which crept in and sat and became the symbol of the whole thing for them. (...) It is as though the mind could not take in the terror and the noise of the bombs and the general horror and so fastened on something small and comprehensible and ordinary. (...) 'It's the glass,' says one man, 'the sound in the morning of the broken glass being swept up, the vicious flat tinkle. That is the thing I remember more than anything else' (...) 'My dog broke a window the other day and my wife swept up the glass and a cold shiver went over me.' (...) One elderly man lost his whole house by fire. He saved an old rocking chair. He took it everywhere with him; wouldn’t leave it for a moment. He sat on the ground beside it, but you couldn't get it away from him."
And there were some fairly humorous tales, like the good-luck charm Goat, the discussions on how the English treat Vegetables ("the English usually boil their vegetables to a submissive, sticky pulp, in which the shape and, as some say, the flavor have long since been overcome. (...) for example, the average English cook regards a vegetable with suspicion. It is his conviction that unless the vegetable is dominated and thoroughly convinced that it must offer no nonsense, it is likely either to revolt or to demand dominion status. Consequently only those vegetables are encouraged which are docile and capable of learning English ways. The Brussels sprout is a good example of the acceptable vegetable. It is first allowed to become large and fierce. It is then picked from its stem and the daylights are boiled out of it. At the end of a few hours the little wild lump of green has this integrated into a curious grayish paste. It is then considered fit for consumption. The same method is followed with cabbage. While the cabbage is boiling it is poked and beaten until, when it is served, it has given up its character and tastes exactly like Brussels sprouts, which in turn taste like cabbage. Carrots are allowed to remain yellow but nothing else of their essential character is maintained. (...) in the American gardens certain English spies have reported they have seen American soldiers fooling and eating raw carrots and turnips and onions. It is strange to an American that the English, who love dogs and rarely eat them, nevertheless are brutal with vegetables. It is just one of those national differences which are unfathomable."), or the way the island of Ventotene was captured and the way the Germans were tricked to surrender.
But overall, as soon as Steinbeck left British soil, I started to lose interest, and by the end I was skimming through the articles. It's hard to capture gold when you have to hide so much away. Still, some insight was very valuable: "we get along very well as individuals but just the moment we become the Americans and they become the British trouble is not far behind." Might be a more interesting read for history buffs; I prefer more detailed, personalized accounts.
phillipjedwards's review against another edition
4.0
Once There Was A War is a collection of Steinbeck's daily reports for the New York Herald Tribune from June 20th, to December 13th, 1943. He travels with American troops to England, to Africa, and then witnesses the capture of the Italian island of Ventotene (a German radar station) by "five men in a whaleboat."
Steinbeck's writing has a mesmerising quality that makes you feel you really are there, seeing through his eyes. In his first few reports he describes life onboard a troopship heading for Britain. He tells us that:
Opening a Steinbeck book can be like putting in a new light bulb: suddenly everything seems so much clearer. It's the mark of a great writer. With his usual simple elegance and power he describes life in the barracks as the preparations for D-Day begin. (Amusingly, he notes that: "...the British pretend, as usual, it is some kind of a garden party they are going to.")
On July 6th, he describes the day-to-day 'life goes on' attitude of people living in Dover, constantly shelled, and within sight of occupied France:
As they were written for a newspaper column, these dispatches are all of a uniform length, making this a terrific book to dip into whenever you have a couple of minutes to spare. It's not one of those harrowing books about war that will leave you dazed and depressed, these pieces of writing would have been required to keep people's spirits up as well as describing to the people back home the life of the troops preparing for the final push. Of course, that may mean that there is an element of propaganda here, but hey, this is Steinbeck, and he's on our side, so who's complaining?
[Review originally posted on dooyoo.co.uk in January 2002.]
Steinbeck's writing has a mesmerising quality that makes you feel you really are there, seeing through his eyes. In his first few reports he describes life onboard a troopship heading for Britain. He tells us that:
"The major impression on a troop ship is of feet. A man can get his head out of the way and his arms, but, lying or sitting, his feet are a problem. They sprawl in the aisles, they stick up at all angles They are not protected because they are the part of a man least likely to be hurt. To move about you must step among feet, must trip over feet."During wartime, information is tightly controlled, so rumours abound - some funny, and some frightening. Like every war reporter, Steinbeck's reports had to be censored. So, here and there, you meet the frustrating phrase: "(one line deleted by censor)", and when he comes ashore on June 25th, it is "Somewhere in England".
Opening a Steinbeck book can be like putting in a new light bulb: suddenly everything seems so much clearer. It's the mark of a great writer. With his usual simple elegance and power he describes life in the barracks as the preparations for D-Day begin. (Amusingly, he notes that: "...the British pretend, as usual, it is some kind of a garden party they are going to.")
On July 6th, he describes the day-to-day 'life goes on' attitude of people living in Dover, constantly shelled, and within sight of occupied France:
"There is a quality in the people of Dover that may well be the key to the coming German disaster. They are incorrigibly, incorruptibly unimpressed. The German,with his uniform and his pageantry and his threats and plans, does not impress these people at all. [...] Jerry is like the weather to him. He complains about it and then promptly goes about what he was doing."He expresses the thoughts and feelings of servicemen, and civilians alike, and they display a quiet heroism that is a very long way from Hollywood:
"I wish they'd tell them at home that the war isn't over and I wish they wouldn't think we're so brave. I don't want to be so brave."Steinbeck's stark description of the aftermath of the bombing of a cinema, later that month, is stunningly powerful. But there's also plenty of humour, and it's not just about the war, there's a culture clash to explore as well. Take his observations on the way the English cook vegetables to death:
"The brussels sprout is a good example [...] It is first allowed to become large and fierce. It is then picked from its stem and the daylights are boiled out of it. At the end of a few hours the little wild lump of green has disintegrated into a curious, grayish paste. It is then considered fit for consumption."He paints pen-pictures of some funny characters, just as Joseph Heller went on to do in Catch-22. Like Private 'Big Train' Mulligan - an ultra-lazy 'gold-bricker', and a Lieutenant-Commander who likens naval warfare to chamber music. (Different sized guns representing different sized violins.)
As they were written for a newspaper column, these dispatches are all of a uniform length, making this a terrific book to dip into whenever you have a couple of minutes to spare. It's not one of those harrowing books about war that will leave you dazed and depressed, these pieces of writing would have been required to keep people's spirits up as well as describing to the people back home the life of the troops preparing for the final push. Of course, that may mean that there is an element of propaganda here, but hey, this is Steinbeck, and he's on our side, so who's complaining?
[Review originally posted on dooyoo.co.uk in January 2002.]
laurapk's review against another edition
3.0
The intro was strong but the constant need for censorship and the lack of details slowly lost me. The beginning was full of little insights that made me go "aha!" "A man may express himself in the pitch or tilt of his hat, but not with a helmet. There is only one way to wear a helmet. It won't go on any other way. (...) with your helmet on you are a mushroom in a bed of mushrooms." or: "You can read character by the feet and shoes. There are perpetually tired feet, and nervous, quick feet period to remember a troopship is to remember the feet."
The stories of the blitz were the ones that were the most poignant for me: "the blitz (...) in London start with fire and explosion and then almost invariably (the people) end up with some very tiny detail which crept in and sat and became the symbol of the whole thing for them. (...) It is as though the mind could not take in the terror and the noise of the bombs and the general horror and so fastened on something small and comprehensible and ordinary. (...) 'It's the glass,' says one man, 'the sound in the morning of the broken glass being swept up, the vicious flat tinkle. That is the thing I remember more than anything else' (...) 'My dog broke a window the other day and my wife swept up the glass and a cold shiver went over me.' (...) One elderly man lost his whole house by fire. He saved an old rocking chair. He took it everywhere with him; wouldn’t leave it for a moment. He sat on the ground beside it, but you couldn't get it away from him."
And there were some fairly humorous tales, like the good-luck charm Goat, the discussions on how the English treat Vegetables ("the English usually boil their vegetables to a submissive, sticky pulp, in which the shape and, as some say, the flavor have long since been overcome. (...) for example, the average English cook regards a vegetable with suspicion. It is his conviction that unless the vegetable is dominated and thoroughly convinced that it must offer no nonsense, it is likely either to revolt or to demand dominion status. Consequently only those vegetables are encouraged which are docile and capable of learning English ways. The Brussels sprout is a good example of the acceptable vegetable. It is first allowed to become large and fierce. It is then picked from its stem and the daylights are boiled out of it. At the end of a few hours the little wild lump of green has this integrated into a curious grayish paste. It is then considered fit for consumption. The same method is followed with cabbage. While the cabbage is boiling it is poked and beaten until, when it is served, it has given up its character and tastes exactly like Brussels sprouts, which in turn taste like cabbage. Carrots are allowed to remain yellow but nothing else of their essential character is maintained. (...) in the American gardens certain English spies have reported they have seen American soldiers fooling and eating raw carrots and turnips and onions. It is strange to an American that the English, who love dogs and rarely eat them, nevertheless are brutal with vegetables. It is just one of those national differences which are unfathomable."), or the way the island of Ventotene was captured and the way the Germans were tricked to surrender.
But overall, as soon as Steinbeck left British soil, I started to lose interest, and by the end I was skimming through the articles. It's hard to capture gold when you have to hide so much away. Still, some insight was very valuable: "we get along very well as individuals but just the moment we become the Americans and they become the British trouble is not far behind." Might be a more interesting read for history buffs; I prefer more detailed, personalized accounts.
The stories of the blitz were the ones that were the most poignant for me: "the blitz (...) in London start with fire and explosion and then almost invariably (the people) end up with some very tiny detail which crept in and sat and became the symbol of the whole thing for them. (...) It is as though the mind could not take in the terror and the noise of the bombs and the general horror and so fastened on something small and comprehensible and ordinary. (...) 'It's the glass,' says one man, 'the sound in the morning of the broken glass being swept up, the vicious flat tinkle. That is the thing I remember more than anything else' (...) 'My dog broke a window the other day and my wife swept up the glass and a cold shiver went over me.' (...) One elderly man lost his whole house by fire. He saved an old rocking chair. He took it everywhere with him; wouldn’t leave it for a moment. He sat on the ground beside it, but you couldn't get it away from him."
And there were some fairly humorous tales, like the good-luck charm Goat, the discussions on how the English treat Vegetables ("the English usually boil their vegetables to a submissive, sticky pulp, in which the shape and, as some say, the flavor have long since been overcome. (...) for example, the average English cook regards a vegetable with suspicion. It is his conviction that unless the vegetable is dominated and thoroughly convinced that it must offer no nonsense, it is likely either to revolt or to demand dominion status. Consequently only those vegetables are encouraged which are docile and capable of learning English ways. The Brussels sprout is a good example of the acceptable vegetable. It is first allowed to become large and fierce. It is then picked from its stem and the daylights are boiled out of it. At the end of a few hours the little wild lump of green has this integrated into a curious grayish paste. It is then considered fit for consumption. The same method is followed with cabbage. While the cabbage is boiling it is poked and beaten until, when it is served, it has given up its character and tastes exactly like Brussels sprouts, which in turn taste like cabbage. Carrots are allowed to remain yellow but nothing else of their essential character is maintained. (...) in the American gardens certain English spies have reported they have seen American soldiers fooling and eating raw carrots and turnips and onions. It is strange to an American that the English, who love dogs and rarely eat them, nevertheless are brutal with vegetables. It is just one of those national differences which are unfathomable."), or the way the island of Ventotene was captured and the way the Germans were tricked to surrender.
But overall, as soon as Steinbeck left British soil, I started to lose interest, and by the end I was skimming through the articles. It's hard to capture gold when you have to hide so much away. Still, some insight was very valuable: "we get along very well as individuals but just the moment we become the Americans and they become the British trouble is not far behind." Might be a more interesting read for history buffs; I prefer more detailed, personalized accounts.
mind_of_doaa's review against another edition
3.0
very nice way of talking abt the war but i kinda found it boring at some places and great at others, some stories where making me cry and others made me want to close the book and never open it again for how much i hated them and just wanted them to be over, idk how to feel abt steinback but he sure can write
fanniberger's review against another edition
2.0
majd lehet feljebb pontozom, de tul keves maradt meg belole ahhoz, hogy egyelore megerje nekem a harom pontot