This past Sunday I finally finished reading “A Soldier of the Great War” by Mark Helprin.
For a synopsis, I am using Barbara Hoffert’s review from 1991 that appeared in Library Journal:
In summer 1964, a distinguished-looking gentleman in his seventies dismounts on principle from a streetcar that was to carry him from Rome to a distant village, instead accompanying on foot a boy denied a fare. As they walk, he tells the boy the story of his life. A young aesthete from a privileged Roman family, Alesandro Giuliani found his charmed existence shattered by the coming of World War I. The war led to an onerous tour of duty, inadvertent desertion, near-execution, forced labor, service high in the Italian Alps that took advantage of his (and Helprin’s) skill at mountain climbing, capture by the enemy, and return home, dispossessed of most of his friends and family. Along the way, he gains, loses, and eventually rediscovers love. This rousingly good story of survival is all the more remarkable in the telling. The language is rich without cloying, complex yet luminous in Helprin’s best style. In a number of thoughtful philosophical passages as engaging as any adventure story, Alesandro struggles to reconcile his appreciation of beauty and his religious faith with the horror around him. That he finally persuades us to believe in a “God without any hope, in a God of splendor and terror” is testimony to the indomitable human spirit.
This was a rather challenging book to read. Part of that came from it being a very long book (hardcover edition is 792 pages), and being limited to reading smaller chunks at a time. Though there were only ten chapters, Helprin broke each chapter up into many one to four page passages.
Another reason the book was challenging is due to Helprin’s prose and style. He can be very wordy at times. He is an excellent writer, and though I get the idea that he is not trying to show off, it’s just his nature, one would tend to think that he is doing just that. Some passages dove deep into aesthetics and had me lost. The prose was wonderful to read, but the meaning of the words sometimes lost on me. But he kept the story still centered on reality, that being the effects of war.
Mark Helprin
The character of Alessandro is one of the most interesting and complex that I have ever read. Being third person narrative, it almost seems like a higher being is telling us the story along with Alessandro’s thoughts. The reader gets to look very, very deep into his soul. He is practical, and very open-minded, but there is so much more about the character which makes this story very compelling, liberating, and haunting all at the same time.
I am not sure how accurate the histories of Italy’s involvement into World War I are portrayed here, but I sense from reading other’s words about this book that they are very accurate. But it is funny to think about that and think about the other characters in the story, like Orfeo Quatta, a former employee of Alessandro’s father who becomes the head scribe at the Ministry of War and allows his crazy feelings about “the blessed sap” that rules the souls (so he believes) into controlling the war with his maniacal whims. Also, an Austrian member of royalty that captures Alessandro and elevates him to his personal secretary as the roam around the lands looking for battles, but purposely not finding any.
There is so much in this book that makes it so good. Many heartbreaking scenes of both love and loss. Dark comedy and philosophy. Adventure and the harrowing depths of war. Faith, hope, and love. It’s a great book … if you have the time for such an epic piece of literature.
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