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hannah_a_r_teatalksbooks 's review for:
Regeneration
by Pat Barker
Regeneration is the first in a trilogy of novels, conveniently called the Regeneration Trilogy, by Pat Barker. It was a Booker Prize nominee, and the third in the trilogy did win the Booker Prize in ’95. And the first book, anyway, is basically WWI poet fanfiction. It’s fantastic. It’s also kind of difficult to talk about. It follows three patients and one doctor, plus their relationships with outside characters, and while this works very well structurally - we get different themes with different characters and different POVs, and all of them combine nicely in the doctor’s section, which also has some themes of its own. It’s an impressive piece of work, simply in terms of novelistic structuring; it’s perfect for the story, and unnoticeable in the reading of it unless you’re specifically looking, Barker is so deft with the plot and characterization.
It takes place in Craiglockhart War Hospital in Scotland, at the time a military psychiatric hospital. Three of the speaking characters are poets from the first world war - Sassoon, Robert Graves, and Wilfred Owen (I’ll try to restrain myself on Wilfred Owen, no one really wants to hear me talk about beautiful tragic Wilfred Owen, peerless perfection of powerful poetry that he was), and many of the other characters are historical figures as well. For me, this was like reference candy - spot the literary figure! Win prestige in your own mind! - and for others, the cultural context is unnoticed/unnecessary. You don’t, for example, need to know that Robbie Ross was Oscar Wilde’s bestie and probably horribly in love with him. There’s one whole mention of him in the entire book. It does serve to remind us of one of the underlying themes of the book, though, which is of course sexuality and masculinity.
This is largely portrayed in the relationship between Sassoon and Owen, which, though not explicitly romantic or sexual, Sassoon acknowledges had the capacity to become so - or at least that Owen quite possibly felt that way about him. His own feelings remain obscure. However, romantic or not, their friendship and mutual respect was hugely influential in both their lives, fictionally and otherwise. In real life, Sassoon suggested that Owen try writing war poetry, and used his experience to guide Owen and critique his work. On a couple of Owens’ manuscripts, you can actually see alterations in Sassoon’s handwriting (*hearts and stars*). Fictionally, Owen’s friendship was in part responsible for Sassoon’s return to the war.
The rest of his return to the war, in the novel, can be attributed to the actual main character of the novel, Dr. W.R.H Rivers, who was a real-life psychologist drafted into this military hospital and told to be a therapist. The title refers to Rivers’ work in nerve regeneration before the war, and to the metaphorical regeneration of a different sort of nerves in his patients during the war, and the excruciating pain involved in both forms of regeneration. In the novel, he is a conscientious man torn between his duty to his patients and his duty to get his patients fit enough to return to the front and be damned with their eventual stability. If that wasn’t rough enough, he’s also hampered by the state of psychology at the time - he’s faced with these men who’ve had absolutely sickeningly horrific experiences, and he’s meant to somehow help them. As a side note, these really are horrible, and if you’ve got a weak stomach, you may - I don’t want to say give it a miss, because it’s a very powerful book and part of the power is in these scenes and the sympathy with which Barker treats the subject, but you may need to give it a miss anyway if recollections of graphic violence and extreme body horror are triggering for you.
But back to Rivers! His inability to help some of his patients, failing in one of his duties, is matched by his inability to convince Sassoon to return to the front, failing the other. Well done, Barker, on the mirroring. Sassoon’s theme is largely political (and, as discussed earlier, his theme is also sexuality); he believes that the war is wrong, and the way it’s being handled is especially wrong. He wrote a manifesto on the subject and managed to get it read in Parliament, and was consequently packed off to Craiglockhart thanks to the influence of his friends, rather than being court martialed. While he has suffered from PTSD, he’s managed to cope with it well and has largely recovered; the only reason for him to be there is political, and the only thing for Rivers to do is convince him to recant his opinion and return to the front. This is especially difficult for him because he’s forced to admit that Sassoon isn’t precisely wrong.
Another headache he’s got is Billy Prior, whose primary theme is class conflict. He’s a lower-class lad with an upper-middle-class education, and the pressures inherent in that, and in his family’s expectations for him, result in mutism when he’s faced with a thoroughly unpleasant experience on the front. Mutism, according to the book, is a symptom never found in officers, only in enlisted men. Officers stutter. Enlisted men lose their voices. I don’t know how statistically accurate this assessment is, but in the book, it’s related to whether or not one can expect to be heard. In essence, silence is the only way for those whose voices will be ignored to have their protests registered. On top of all that, Prior should never have been on the front to begin with, since he suffers from asthma, but, when he regains his voice, he insists on going back. For him, Rivers is torn within his professional duty - is it medically and psychologically ethical to allow Prior to go back to war, even if he wants to do so? What about his patriotic duty, which is to send as many men back to the front as he can?
The third patient is David Burns, whose primary function in the novel is to represent the effects of the horrors of war on the individual. There’s really no question of sending him back, between the screaming nightmares and the inability to eat and the shattered health. With him, Rivers feels helpless, and the description of his experiences has a similar effect on the reader as Owen’s poem Dulce et Decorum Est has. Which, if you haven’t read that, you should! I promised I wouldn’t talk much about Owen, but you’ve probably read this poem in school, so it doesn’t count as Gushing About Owen. It’s technically brilliant, and that’s part of the effect on the reader, but whether you recognize the sheer poetic skill or not, this poem will leave an impression. Anyway, our opening scene with Burns displays him naked, covered in blood, and surrounded by dead animals. It’s worth pointing out that he did not kill the animals. He found them. But still.
So yeah, there’s a lot going on in the novel. It’s intense, disturbing, and a gripping read - I couldn’t put it down, when I first read it. It doesn’t seem like it should be a page-turner, but Barker’s characterization wraps you up in the characters so effectively that the book flies along. My least favorite parts are Billy Prior’s, which makes sense, because he’s not supposed to be a terribly sympathetic character - he’s angry, aggressive, and rude, and has every right to be. On rereads, I’ve found myself thinking more and more about his story. It may be the least likable, but it’s one of the most thought-provoking.
AND there’s a movie. A really good movie. It’s called Behind the Lines in some places and Regeneration in others, and it’s excellent.
tl;dr - it’s a great war novel, and there’s a lot to get out of it on a casual read as well as on a deeper level. It’s not fun, precisely, but it’s an intense, interesting, and moving read. If you’re triggered by scenes of graphic violence (and some body horror), you may want to pass on this.
It takes place in Craiglockhart War Hospital in Scotland, at the time a military psychiatric hospital. Three of the speaking characters are poets from the first world war - Sassoon, Robert Graves, and Wilfred Owen (I’ll try to restrain myself on Wilfred Owen, no one really wants to hear me talk about beautiful tragic Wilfred Owen, peerless perfection of powerful poetry that he was), and many of the other characters are historical figures as well. For me, this was like reference candy - spot the literary figure! Win prestige in your own mind! - and for others, the cultural context is unnoticed/unnecessary. You don’t, for example, need to know that Robbie Ross was Oscar Wilde’s bestie and probably horribly in love with him. There’s one whole mention of him in the entire book. It does serve to remind us of one of the underlying themes of the book, though, which is of course sexuality and masculinity.
This is largely portrayed in the relationship between Sassoon and Owen, which, though not explicitly romantic or sexual, Sassoon acknowledges had the capacity to become so - or at least that Owen quite possibly felt that way about him. His own feelings remain obscure. However, romantic or not, their friendship and mutual respect was hugely influential in both their lives, fictionally and otherwise. In real life, Sassoon suggested that Owen try writing war poetry, and used his experience to guide Owen and critique his work. On a couple of Owens’ manuscripts, you can actually see alterations in Sassoon’s handwriting (*hearts and stars*). Fictionally, Owen’s friendship was in part responsible for Sassoon’s return to the war.
The rest of his return to the war, in the novel, can be attributed to the actual main character of the novel, Dr. W.R.H Rivers, who was a real-life psychologist drafted into this military hospital and told to be a therapist. The title refers to Rivers’ work in nerve regeneration before the war, and to the metaphorical regeneration of a different sort of nerves in his patients during the war, and the excruciating pain involved in both forms of regeneration. In the novel, he is a conscientious man torn between his duty to his patients and his duty to get his patients fit enough to return to the front and be damned with their eventual stability. If that wasn’t rough enough, he’s also hampered by the state of psychology at the time - he’s faced with these men who’ve had absolutely sickeningly horrific experiences, and he’s meant to somehow help them. As a side note, these really are horrible, and if you’ve got a weak stomach, you may - I don’t want to say give it a miss, because it’s a very powerful book and part of the power is in these scenes and the sympathy with which Barker treats the subject, but you may need to give it a miss anyway if recollections of graphic violence and extreme body horror are triggering for you.
But back to Rivers! His inability to help some of his patients, failing in one of his duties, is matched by his inability to convince Sassoon to return to the front, failing the other. Well done, Barker, on the mirroring. Sassoon’s theme is largely political (and, as discussed earlier, his theme is also sexuality); he believes that the war is wrong, and the way it’s being handled is especially wrong. He wrote a manifesto on the subject and managed to get it read in Parliament, and was consequently packed off to Craiglockhart thanks to the influence of his friends, rather than being court martialed. While he has suffered from PTSD, he’s managed to cope with it well and has largely recovered; the only reason for him to be there is political, and the only thing for Rivers to do is convince him to recant his opinion and return to the front. This is especially difficult for him because he’s forced to admit that Sassoon isn’t precisely wrong.
Another headache he’s got is Billy Prior, whose primary theme is class conflict. He’s a lower-class lad with an upper-middle-class education, and the pressures inherent in that, and in his family’s expectations for him, result in mutism when he’s faced with a thoroughly unpleasant experience on the front. Mutism, according to the book, is a symptom never found in officers, only in enlisted men. Officers stutter. Enlisted men lose their voices. I don’t know how statistically accurate this assessment is, but in the book, it’s related to whether or not one can expect to be heard. In essence, silence is the only way for those whose voices will be ignored to have their protests registered. On top of all that, Prior should never have been on the front to begin with, since he suffers from asthma, but, when he regains his voice, he insists on going back. For him, Rivers is torn within his professional duty - is it medically and psychologically ethical to allow Prior to go back to war, even if he wants to do so? What about his patriotic duty, which is to send as many men back to the front as he can?
The third patient is David Burns, whose primary function in the novel is to represent the effects of the horrors of war on the individual. There’s really no question of sending him back, between the screaming nightmares and the inability to eat and the shattered health. With him, Rivers feels helpless, and the description of his experiences has a similar effect on the reader as Owen’s poem Dulce et Decorum Est has. Which, if you haven’t read that, you should! I promised I wouldn’t talk much about Owen, but you’ve probably read this poem in school, so it doesn’t count as Gushing About Owen. It’s technically brilliant, and that’s part of the effect on the reader, but whether you recognize the sheer poetic skill or not, this poem will leave an impression. Anyway, our opening scene with Burns displays him naked, covered in blood, and surrounded by dead animals. It’s worth pointing out that he did not kill the animals. He found them. But still.
So yeah, there’s a lot going on in the novel. It’s intense, disturbing, and a gripping read - I couldn’t put it down, when I first read it. It doesn’t seem like it should be a page-turner, but Barker’s characterization wraps you up in the characters so effectively that the book flies along. My least favorite parts are Billy Prior’s, which makes sense, because he’s not supposed to be a terribly sympathetic character - he’s angry, aggressive, and rude, and has every right to be. On rereads, I’ve found myself thinking more and more about his story. It may be the least likable, but it’s one of the most thought-provoking.
AND there’s a movie. A really good movie. It’s called Behind the Lines in some places and Regeneration in others, and it’s excellent.
tl;dr - it’s a great war novel, and there’s a lot to get out of it on a casual read as well as on a deeper level. It’s not fun, precisely, but it’s an intense, interesting, and moving read. If you’re triggered by scenes of graphic violence (and some body horror), you may want to pass on this.