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A review by rake_anomander
The General of the Dead Army by Ismail Kadare
3.0
From time to time I have to wait for people. Everyone has to. The worth of punctuality is lost on many.
So, when such times occur, I read. It's enjoyable, easy to pick up, easy to put down and it passes the minutes.
Sometimes...however...I forget to bring a book for myself and find that I'm stuck in the heat / cold with nothing to do except twiddle my thumbs and watch people go by.
Which will simple NOT DO!
So I walk into the nearest book store, pick up something of reasonable length and start reading. I generally just take a look at the title, the size and off we go. If I've heard of the author before...bonus!...if not, I call it an adventure in the interest of curiosity.
That is why I've read The General of the Dead Army. I have another Ismail Kadare effort in my book case but I haven't yet had time to explore that one. So, in every way, this has been my first meeting with the author in earnest.
Reading this had me wondering who it was actually aimed at.
It sure as Hell hasn't been aimed at me, the casual reader with flights of curiosity fancies.
It didn't feel as it was aimed at the World War II nuts.
It didn't feel aimed at Albanians or Italians in any meaningful way.
It just didn't feel as if it had been created to be aimed at anybody...and that persisted with me as I plodded through the dreary narrative and I've put up with the obnoxious characters.
And that's it about the book. It's dreary to no ends, the mood is constantly dark and oppressive, the land presented is inhospitable and it invites no exploration. There is no beauty or dignity or even glory in the story...only rain and sadness and the bitter nostalgia of a war long finished.
The task of the story squeezes life and energy out of our lead characters whom I've found much too sensitive sometimes. I have a rather idealized image about the military life, never having served myself, but I generally find generals in any army to be weathered people, used to the intricacies of political debate, public commentary and annoying bureaucracy.
As it happens I could not sympathize with the character almost at all and found, very often, that he made a much too great of a deal out of generally anything. Of course, we're all people and can be affected more or less by many things...but too much is too much man. Sometimes his internal grief felt more like padding for the book and the story that lacked much punch or impact or tension.
This has been serviceable reading but far from a feast as far as I'm concerned. Take that with a bit of salt if you will. As I've said shortly before, I do not feel that this book has been in any way meant for me.
It may reverberate more with some of you.
So, when such times occur, I read. It's enjoyable, easy to pick up, easy to put down and it passes the minutes.
Sometimes...however...I forget to bring a book for myself and find that I'm stuck in the heat / cold with nothing to do except twiddle my thumbs and watch people go by.
Which will simple NOT DO!
So I walk into the nearest book store, pick up something of reasonable length and start reading. I generally just take a look at the title, the size and off we go. If I've heard of the author before...bonus!...if not, I call it an adventure in the interest of curiosity.
That is why I've read The General of the Dead Army. I have another Ismail Kadare effort in my book case but I haven't yet had time to explore that one. So, in every way, this has been my first meeting with the author in earnest.
Reading this had me wondering who it was actually aimed at.
It sure as Hell hasn't been aimed at me, the casual reader with flights of curiosity fancies.
It didn't feel as it was aimed at the World War II nuts.
It didn't feel aimed at Albanians or Italians in any meaningful way.
It just didn't feel as if it had been created to be aimed at anybody...and that persisted with me as I plodded through the dreary narrative and I've put up with the obnoxious characters.
And that's it about the book. It's dreary to no ends, the mood is constantly dark and oppressive, the land presented is inhospitable and it invites no exploration. There is no beauty or dignity or even glory in the story...only rain and sadness and the bitter nostalgia of a war long finished.
The task of the story squeezes life and energy out of our lead characters whom I've found much too sensitive sometimes. I have a rather idealized image about the military life, never having served myself, but I generally find generals in any army to be weathered people, used to the intricacies of political debate, public commentary and annoying bureaucracy.
As it happens I could not sympathize with the character almost at all and found, very often, that he made a much too great of a deal out of generally anything. Of course, we're all people and can be affected more or less by many things...but too much is too much man. Sometimes his internal grief felt more like padding for the book and the story that lacked much punch or impact or tension.
This has been serviceable reading but far from a feast as far as I'm concerned. Take that with a bit of salt if you will. As I've said shortly before, I do not feel that this book has been in any way meant for me.
It may reverberate more with some of you.