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Book Review: The Missing of the Somme by Geoff Dyer

The War to End All Wars didn’t. At least in the United States, the vast majority of those alive today probably view World War I as the chapter in their history textbook before the Depression and World War II. And the death earlier this year of the last surviving combat veteran of the Great War reinforces that people with firsthand memories of the conflict recollection of it grow fewer each day. Yet British author Geoff Dyer suggests that even while it was being fought, “the characteristic attitude of the war was to look forward to the time when it would be remembered.”

First published in Britain in 1994, Dyer’s The Missing of the Somme is making its first appearance in a U.S. edition. A slim (176 pages), somewhat quirky work, Dyer considers World War I through the poetry, literature, biographies, and photography of the time, along with a bit of travelogue of monuments and cemeteries. It is as far from a history of the war as one might get. To the contrary, Dyer says his goal was not even to write about the war itself but, rather, its impact on his generation. (He was born in 1958.) Nor was this to be a novel. Instead, he viewed the project as “an essay in mediation: research notes for a Great War novel I had no intention of writing, the themes of a novel without its substance…”

A meditation on remembrance is the best way to describe the work. The various literary and artistic works Dyer discusses deal with how the war would be and is remembered. In fact, remembrance started early, according to Dyer. He points to perhaps the best known poem by Laurence Binyon, “For the Fallen,” which would come to adorn many war memorials. It was published in September 1914, about a month after the first British troops went to France and three weeks after the first British soldier died in the conflict. That means, Dyer says with just a hint of exaggeration, perhaps the leading remembrance of those killed in the war was written “before the fallen actually fell. ‘For the Fallen’, in other words, is a work not of remembrance but of anticipation, or more accurately, the anticipation of remembrance: a foreseeing that is also a determining.”

Remembrance arose to the point that 30,000 war memorials were erected in France between 1920 and 1925. Yet even memorials feel the toll of time. And the fact time also affects remembrance itself is seen in another example. For decades, November 11 was Remembrance Day in the U.K. (Armistice Day in the U.S.). People would cease activity for two minutes of silence at 11 a.m., the time the Armistice was signed. Although that may still occur, Britain now has Remembrance Sunday, held the second Sunday of November to commemorate those who served in both World Wars. (Here in the U.S., Armistice Day became Veterans Day in 1958 and 10 years later it became a movable Monday holiday.)

Dyer’s interest in the memory of World War I stems in part from the fact his grandfather fought in the Battle of the Somme, which still holds the calamitous distinction of seeing the most British casualties ever in one day. Undoubtedly, ensuing generations were impacted by World War I. The numbers are almost stunning. According to Dyer, there were 918 cemeteries built on the Western Front with more than 750,000 graves, approximately a quarter of which contain unidentified remains. He also notes that it would take three and a half days if the dead of the British Empire marched past the war memorial where the Remembrance Sunday service is held.

It is difficult perhaps for Americans to grasp the extent of the generational impact for Britain, France and other European countries. After all, the U.S. suffered 10 percent of the military deaths the British Empire did and even fewer compared to France and Germany. This alone means it is unlikely The Missing of the Somme will attract much attention in the U.S. That does not, however, change the fact it is a unique, albeit idiosyncratic, reflection on war.


The phrase “horror of war” has become so automatic a conjunction that it conveys none of the horror it is meant to express.

Geoff Dyer, The Missing of the Somme

Book Review: The Long Night: William L. Shirer and the Rise and Fall of the Third Reich by Steve Wick

It sticks out on almost any bookshelf. Like the cover, a white circle appears in the center of the jacket spine, the antithesis of the black that otherwise fills the space. In the midst of the circle is black again, but in the shape of the Nazi swastika. The title, The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich, is in gold at the top. It is as if the cover symbolizes what is within, history viewed as a recounting of the rise and destruction of evil.

Considering it was nearly 1,300 pages long, the book was a significant popular accomplishment. Not only did it top the New York Times bestseller list and win the National Book Award, it was a selection of the Book-of-the-Month Club. A worthy achievement for any historian. Yet the author, William L. Shirer, was not a historian. He was a reporter who provided firsthand coverage of Hitler’s Germany and the onset of World War II from 1934 through 1940. Those six years are the focus of Steve Wick’s new biography of Shirer, The Long Night: William L. Shirer and the Rise and Fall of the Third Reich.

Like his subject, Wick is a journalist, not an academic, a point he makes in an author’s note. His goal “was to write more of an adventure story than a book of history.” The Long Night meets the objective.

Wick traces Shirer’s life and career from Coe College in Iowa to Europe and India and his work as a wire service, newspaper and radio correspondent until his departure from Berlin in December 1940. Throughout, Shirer was an inveterate diarist. The notes and journals he smuggled out of Nazi Germany when he left were the basis of Shirer’s Berlin Diary, itself a bestseller in 1941. Wick relies on and quotes extensively from those notes and journals. He occasionally looks to other sources in attempting to give a more complete picture but perhaps not as often as one might like in fully setting the significant times and events in the Nazi rise to power and entry into war.

Although Wick writes in the straightforward prose one would expect from a journalist, he uses the original material to tell the story in a way that utilizes but does not abuse the concept of creative nonfiction. In addition to detailing Shirer’s journey as a European correspondent, The Long Night presents some of the conflicts that confronted Shirer and other reporters as the Nazis increased their power. As the Nazis grew stronger, reporters struggled with balancing government censorship against the risk of expulsion. Is censored news better than no news about what was happening in Germany? Wick also points out the human level of some of the conflicts. How does a reporter balance the extent to which they use a source in the government or the Nazi party against the risk that contact will result in the source’s arrest? Perhaps more crucially, should the Nazi government’s treatment of the Jews require a journalist subject to censorship to become an advocate for them or at least against the Nazis?

Although it was his coverage of Nazi Germany that made Shirer famous, he actually set off for Europe in 1925 without a job. By luck, he was hired by the Chicago Tribune in Paris just as he was preparing to return to America. At the beginning, he only covered Europe, including Charles Lindbergh’s landing in Paris after his solo flight across the Atlantic. Eventually, the job would take him to India to report on Gandhi’s efforts for independence. He would also find his way into Afghanistan, where, according to Wick, he concluded the seemingly endless conflicts and wars left a “sinkhole not worth a drop of foreign blood.”

In 1934, Shirer began work in Berlin as a correspondent for William Randolph Hearst’s Universal News Service. The news service, however, was shut down in 1937. Again, luck played its hand as Shirer was contacted and hired by Edward R. Murrow, the head of CBS’s European staff. Somewhat ironically, although he and Murrow would essentially pioneer foreign radio correspondents actually broadcasting news from the scene, that was not Shirer’s main task when he started with CBS. Instead, he arranged and set up venues for non-news programs, such as musical performances. When Germany annexed Austria in 1938, though, he and Murrow headed up a round-up of European coverage, a format the CBS radio network would use for years.

As censorship increased, Shirer tried to use subtle references and intonations to convey more meaning to audiences with the language the censors would allow. Wick examines Shirer’s true feelings toward the Nazis and the internal conflict — and even depression — the censorship produced. The Long Night also suggests this period could be the source of a theme of The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich frequently criticized by academics. Shirer’s perspective was that Hitler and Nazism arose because of the character of Germans and their society. Wick acknowledges that Shirer’s feelings toward the German people hardened and became more cynical with time. “He saw them as cows. They wanted to be led around by a strong leader who lied to them every time he opened his mouth,” Wick writes. “They did what they were told and did not debate moral issues. They never debated moral issues when self-interests were involved.”

While that theory was debated and criticized by academics, The Long Night makes clear he was not a historian; he was a reporter whose later books allowed him to express what he could not when in Germany. Because Wick’s intent was to write “about a journalist at work,” he does not delve into those books or the validity of Shirer’s ideas and themes. Rather, Shirer’s life after leaving Berlin in 1940 is summarized in a 12 ½-page “Postscript.” To that extent, those interested in Shirer will be disappointed and need to await a full biography. For now, Wick at least provides insight not only into the man but the formative period of his most notable work.


How fast the dark age envelops us.

William L. Shirer, quoted in
Steve Wick, The Long Night

Weekend Edition: 8-6

Interesting Reading in the Interweb Tubes

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Ignore the awful times, and concentrate on the good ones.

Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five

August Bibliolust

This month’s list is short because much of the lust arose — and was partially satisfied — during the month of July. There were two or three other books that I stumbled across or heard of during the month that I’ve already read. In fact, everything popped up in the last 10 days or so of the mnonth.

“The Boomer’s Guide to Story”: A Search for Insight in Literature and Film, Roemer McPhee — As a late boomer, I couldn’t help but be intrigued by a book that looks to the modern culture of the generation for “insights, ideas, and wisdom.” Mix in the opportunity to review it for a new site on film that a friend helped start and the result is lust.

Encyclopaedia of Hell: An Invasion Manual for Demons Concerning the Planet Earth and the Human Race Which Infests It , Martin Olson — I have been a big fan of Feral House publishing ever since I came across the first edition of Kooks, A Guide to the Outer Limits of Human Belief in a Big Sur shop in the mid-1990s. Thus, there was little hesitation when I read about this new release on the interwebz. After all, demons, Satan and humor. What more would a guy want given how hot it’s been?

The Leftovers, Tom Perrotta — When a book is described as “seriously dystopian” and is based on a secular event resembling the so-called Rapture, it can’t help but pique my curiosity. The fact the library has it on order and it doesn’t come out until the end of the month also doesn’t hurt as it creates breathing and shelf space.

The Long Night: William L. Shirer and the Rise and Fall of the Third Reich, Steve Wick — Even 50 years after it was first published, William Shirer’s The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich remains one of the seminal works on the history of the Third Reich and well worth reading. As a result, this new biography of Shirer caught my eye.

This Beautiful Life, Helen Schulman — A favorable front page NYT Book Review review landed this novel on the list — plus the fact the library has it on order,

Report Card:

Year to Date (January-July 2011)

Total Bibliolust books: 33

Number read: 24 (72.7%)

Started but did not finish: 3 (9%)

Cumulative (September 2008-July 2011)

Total Bibliolust books: 183

Number read: 141 (77%)

Started but did not finish: 12 (6.6%)

Why can’t people just sit and read books and be nice to each other?

David Baldacci, The Camel Club

Tech and different TBR conspire

It was one of those weeks it seems like.

When a couple books showed up at the door early in the week, the realization sunk in that there’s a lot of books in my other TBR pile — the “to be reviewed” stack. By my count, I have at least six books to review that either have been released or will hit the stores by August 17. In terms of reading, that’s doable at basically two books a week. Still, as I’ve noted before, review reading is different from “normal” reading for me and it takes time afterwards to write the reviews. Of course, it didn’t stop me from picking up two books at the used book store during a Saturday trip there

Then, of course, when I turned on my home desktop computer last Monday evening, there was what the computer world likes to call a fatal operating system error message. In English, the machine would not boot up. Thus, I spent several hours each night trying to get it back to where it was (and save years of tax and financial records). While I succeeded for the most part, the only reading I got done those nights came while updates for the original operating system were downloading and installing and I was restarting the computer (far too many times than I care to count). Doesn’t do a great deal for one’s concentration or even tracking a story.

Yes, woe is me. I avoided a computer disaster and have too many books to read. If that’s what I have to complain about, life is pretty good.


If you break your neck, if you have nothing to eat, if your house is on fire — then you got a problem. Everything else is inconvenience.

Robert Fulghum, Uh-Oh