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oldpondnewfrog's review
5.0
First read March 2013
I'm not sure what it was about this book, but lately, for some reason, it's been the one I think of first.
"I want to make it clear right away that I was not an unhappy man, nor a sad man either."
Second read October 2014
What a novel. It just works for me. I am taken in all the way. Great chapter endings. Great familiarity among the strangers-become-roommates on the train. And a really poignant, believable love affair.
There is this sense of inevitability that I can't quite express, but which I experience strongly. It's also present in other works—like Don Henley's "The End of the Innocence."
The translation by Robert Baldick is, I think, especially good.
"When I woke up, a yellowish light which I knew so well was filtering into the bedroom through the holland curtains. Our windows, on the first floor, have no shutters. None of the houses in the street has any."
I love that has.
I love the ending, which is unusually satisfying for a thing like this that has to come to an end.
I love the narrator, whose mention of irrelevant details is integral to the pleasure of his tale, and whose uncertainty about his own feelings somehow makes me understand better.
I'm not sure what it was about this book, but lately, for some reason, it's been the one I think of first.
"I want to make it clear right away that I was not an unhappy man, nor a sad man either."
Second read October 2014
What a novel. It just works for me. I am taken in all the way. Great chapter endings. Great familiarity among the strangers-become-roommates on the train. And a really poignant, believable love affair.
There is this sense of inevitability that I can't quite express, but which I experience strongly. It's also present in other works—like Don Henley's "The End of the Innocence."
The translation by Robert Baldick is, I think, especially good.
"When I woke up, a yellowish light which I knew so well was filtering into the bedroom through the holland curtains. Our windows, on the first floor, have no shutters. None of the houses in the street has any."
I love that has.
I love the ending, which is unusually satisfying for a thing like this that has to come to an end.
I love the narrator, whose mention of irrelevant details is integral to the pleasure of his tale, and whose uncertainty about his own feelings somehow makes me understand better.
reader_fictions's review
2.0
Believe it or not, I was a History major in undergrad, not English, although, given my love of literature, that might have been the obvious choice. I do also really enjoy reading about history, although I do it less, since so many academic historians write so dryly and reading their books is like pulling teeth. My favorite historical periods to study are World War I, World War II and the Vietnam War, not the battles so much, but what life was like. I am a sucker for novels about these time periods as much as I am for ya books with corsets on the cover.
I tried, somewhat halfheartedly, to find out some historical background on The Train, but was not particularly successful. Apparently, the book was forgotten after its initial publication and is now being republished in a snazzy new cover by Melville House, which is doing the same for a number of old titles. The initial publication in English was in 1964.
The book itself was somewhat of a disappointment. It had some inherent interest, because Simenon discussed a section of wartime life I knew nothing about, which I always love. The refugees on the trains are reminiscent of Holocaust memoirs, only they had it so incredibly easy. Their trains made so many stops, so they could get out and do their business, and they were given free, pretty plentiful and delicious food at each station. They had enough space to lay down in the train cars. Still, they were pretty cramped and they had no idea where they were going or precisely what would happen to them when they got there. This was all cool.
The main problem I had with The Train was either the translation or Simenon's writing style, although I cannot say which. The syntax was often odd and stilted, making me need to read a few sentences a couple of times to figure out what was going on. Its like the rhythm is just a little bit off somehow.
I also did not appreciate reading yet another book about an affair. Sigh. To be fair though, the affair did support the story and made perfect sense in context. The freedom that everyone felt was a part of the train journey too. It was so different from daily experience that people felt uninhibited: "I wasn't alone in feeling outside ordinary life and its conventions" (126).
Also cool is the question of how reliable of a narrator Marcel really is. Some of his assertions definitely need to be taken with a cellar of salt. At only 153 pages, The Train is well-worth the time it takes to read for the unique reflection on WWII life.
I tried, somewhat halfheartedly, to find out some historical background on The Train, but was not particularly successful. Apparently, the book was forgotten after its initial publication and is now being republished in a snazzy new cover by Melville House, which is doing the same for a number of old titles. The initial publication in English was in 1964.
The book itself was somewhat of a disappointment. It had some inherent interest, because Simenon discussed a section of wartime life I knew nothing about, which I always love. The refugees on the trains are reminiscent of Holocaust memoirs, only they had it so incredibly easy. Their trains made so many stops, so they could get out and do their business, and they were given free, pretty plentiful and delicious food at each station. They had enough space to lay down in the train cars. Still, they were pretty cramped and they had no idea where they were going or precisely what would happen to them when they got there. This was all cool.
The main problem I had with The Train was either the translation or Simenon's writing style, although I cannot say which. The syntax was often odd and stilted, making me need to read a few sentences a couple of times to figure out what was going on. Its like the rhythm is just a little bit off somehow.
I also did not appreciate reading yet another book about an affair. Sigh. To be fair though, the affair did support the story and made perfect sense in context. The freedom that everyone felt was a part of the train journey too. It was so different from daily experience that people felt uninhibited: "I wasn't alone in feeling outside ordinary life and its conventions" (126).
Also cool is the question of how reliable of a narrator Marcel really is. Some of his assertions definitely need to be taken with a cellar of salt. At only 153 pages, The Train is well-worth the time it takes to read for the unique reflection on WWII life.
alanfederman's review
4.0
Taut, psychological novel about a couple that is separated when the Germans invade Belgium and France. It shows what one does to cope with life during wartime, physically and emotionally.