We’ve been all over the Zone Rouge, including the ossuary and all those lost villages. When you leave the forts and wander into the forests (on the duckboards, of course), you feel yourself lost inside this massive, hollow, maybe godless space that surely no human could have created—until they (or we) did. You capture it very well here, and your frame fits it perfectly, because if you travel just a few miles in any direction from this human black hole, 21st century life is as frenetic and prosperous and stuck in its details as anywhere else. They might someday bring up the last shell (not in our lifetimes), but they will never squeeze out, much less sanitize, the blood and loss and sheer horror that still ooze from the earth here.
You’re welcome. Incidentally, a best friend of mine back in 1969 was Anthony Lispky of London. He was a well-educated Jewish guitarist who managed to play a few sets at least with his idol John Mayall back in the Bluesbreakers days. No relation, I suppose? We lost touch after school, but it’s an unusual name.
Wife and I set out a few years back to travel and photograph every inch of the WW I trenches. All the way from the sea to down the Maginot Line. Most have disappeared, except for to the farmers who still dig up munitions by the ton. At Ypres, they’re a sanitized tourist trap. At the Somme, they’re a serene and forgetful field of green. Above, but not in, Verdun, they’re an authentic glimpse into the fires of hell.
Brilliant work, and I will seek out the book reviewed. Thank you for beautifully joining the arc represented by the sage-grouse - fulfilling its role in nature - and the humans, fulfilling their roles too.
Wonderful review (the book is added to my list), but more importantly, you answered the question of how the Captain felt about the protection of the Sage Grouse.
This is absolutely beautiful. Thank you. Makes me think about all the unexplored and exploded ordinance that Ukraine and Gaza are buried beneath. Also makes me much more confident about the people who are in our military. Thank you again.
“Does war interrupt peace, or is peace what we call a pause in the fighting?” Very interesting reading this reflection on a new novel while currently reading a classic, War and Peace. The observation that we should find what is good and direct our work in service to that reminded me of that Philosopher-Emperor everyone loves to quote (does anyone still read Marcus Aurelius?): “If anything is possible and proper for man to do, assume that it must fall within your own capacity.”
We’ve been all over the Zone Rouge, including the ossuary and all those lost villages. When you leave the forts and wander into the forests (on the duckboards, of course), you feel yourself lost inside this massive, hollow, maybe godless space that surely no human could have created—until they (or we) did. You capture it very well here, and your frame fits it perfectly, because if you travel just a few miles in any direction from this human black hole, 21st century life is as frenetic and prosperous and stuck in its details as anywhere else. They might someday bring up the last shell (not in our lifetimes), but they will never squeeze out, much less sanitize, the blood and loss and sheer horror that still ooze from the earth here.
Thank you for reading. “Human black hole” is how it seems to me even contemplating Verdun from afar.
You’re welcome. Incidentally, a best friend of mine back in 1969 was Anthony Lispky of London. He was a well-educated Jewish guitarist who managed to play a few sets at least with his idol John Mayall back in the Bluesbreakers days. No relation, I suppose? We lost touch after school, but it’s an unusual name.
Wife and I set out a few years back to travel and photograph every inch of the WW I trenches. All the way from the sea to down the Maginot Line. Most have disappeared, except for to the farmers who still dig up munitions by the ton. At Ypres, they’re a sanitized tourist trap. At the Somme, they’re a serene and forgetful field of green. Above, but not in, Verdun, they’re an authentic glimpse into the fires of hell.
So it goes.
Very well done, Theo.
Brilliant work, and I will seek out the book reviewed. Thank you for beautifully joining the arc represented by the sage-grouse - fulfilling its role in nature - and the humans, fulfilling their roles too.
Thank you for reading along - they’re strikingly handsome birds too. I hope you enjoy the book.
Thank you for the wonderful stories and the existential journey in the life of a warrior. Mating and dying are wondrous focusing rituals.
“Depend upon it, sir, when a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully.”
― Samuel Johnson,
John, thank you for reading. That Johnson quote is about it.
Wonderful review (the book is added to my list), but more importantly, you answered the question of how the Captain felt about the protection of the Sage Grouse.
This is absolutely beautiful. Thank you. Makes me think about all the unexplored and exploded ordinance that Ukraine and Gaza are buried beneath. Also makes me much more confident about the people who are in our military. Thank you again.
“Does war interrupt peace, or is peace what we call a pause in the fighting?” Very interesting reading this reflection on a new novel while currently reading a classic, War and Peace. The observation that we should find what is good and direct our work in service to that reminded me of that Philosopher-Emperor everyone loves to quote (does anyone still read Marcus Aurelius?): “If anything is possible and proper for man to do, assume that it must fall within your own capacity.”