Interestingly, in 1066- the year depicted- Halley's Comet became visible in the sky, and is depicted on the tapestry:
The Battle of Hastings took place on October 14, 1066 (anniversary tomorrow). It was a battle for the throne of England between the forces of Anglo-Saxon King Harold Godwinson and Duke William II of Normandy. Spoiler: the Normans win, though this should be obvious to even the least historically inclined, as the duke is commonly referred to as "William the Conqueror." The Bayeux Tapestry is a work done in needlepoint which depicts the battle and all the events leading up to it. It is 70 meters (230 ft) long and 0.5 meters (1.6 ft) wide. As someone who has occasionally dabbled in cross stitch and crewel embroidery, and knows how long it takes to finish even a small project, all I can say is... wow. Seriously, wow. And there is a piece missing off the end of it, so it was originally even longer. Here's a couple pictures of it as it's displayed now; though you can see only a piece of the tapestry, they give you some idea of it's size: Although I've called this an English tapestry, it actually resides in France- in Bayeux Cathedral, Normandy. The origins of the tapestry have been often debated, with one persistent legend being that William the Conqueror's wife Matilda and her ladies-in-waiting stitched it. This, however, is highly unlikely. Most scholars agree that the Bayeux Tapestry was in all probability commissioned by Bishop Odo, William's half-brother who, after the Conquest, was made Earl of Kent. There are many reasons for this assumption, one being that several of the Bishop's colleagues appear in the tapestry. Also, the tapestry has always been at Bayeux Cathedral, which Bishop Odo built. It is assumed that it was designed and stitched in Kent- which is why I called it English- because that was where Odo was living at the time. Also, the vegetable dyes used on the threads are of the type used in England at that time. As well, the Latin phrasing on the tapestry is distinctly Anglo-Saxon in style (or so I'm told). Last but not least, during this time period, Anglo-Saxon needlework was deemed to be the finest available, well-known throughout Europe for it's skill and beauty. It's assumed that Bishop Odo commissioned the work early in the 1070's, so that it would be ready in time for Bayeux Cathedral's dedication in 1077. Whoever the unknown stitchers were, they did wonderful work, bless their strained eyes and sore fingers. Look at the fine stitching and incredible detail, and reflect that this work was produced well over 900 years ago. It's really quite amazing. Also, it's a real blessing that the Tapestry is still in existence after all this time, especially since in the 12th century, the Bayeux Cathedral was partially destroyed and had to be rebuilt. It also survived the sacking of Bayeux in the 1562 by the Huguenots, and the French Revolution, when revolutionary twits confiscated the artwork as "public property" and used it as a cover for military wagons. The Nazis also took possession of the Tapestry during their occupation of France and schemed to take it to Berlin, but didn't get it out of the country before France was retaken by the Allies. The Battle of Hastings is stitched in great detail, and includes the scene of poor old King Harold's death - purportedly from an arrow in the eye. In case anyone missed what was going on in the scene, the words "Harold Rex Interfectus Est" or "Harold the King is Killed" appear over the stitched picture. Interestingly, in 1066- the year depicted- Halley's Comet became visible in the sky, and is depicted on the tapestry: The Normans thought that the comet's appearance was a good omen for William's conquest while the Anglo-Saxons, who lost, decided that it had portended evil to their cause. As Eilmer of Malmesbury, who had apparently been alive for its previous appearance as well as this one, wrote in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle: "You have come, have you?... You've come, you source of tears to many mothers, you evil. I hate you! It is long since I saw you; but as I see you now you are much more terrible, for I see you brandishing the downfall of my country. I hate you!" So if, like me, you have an interest in British history, the Bayeux Tapestry provides a fascinating glimpse- albeit a biased one - of the events leading up to, and including, the Norman Conquest. The Tapestry is also worth a look if you want to see what fine workmanship the people of that time period were capable of producing. And if you're a fan of cartoons or graphic novels, you might regard the Tapestry as the early English equivalent.
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This week's Quote of the Week by Rudyard Kipling, which essentially said that people would remember history if it was told to them in the form of stories, brought some Canadian T.V. from my childhood to mind. I love history... I enjoy reading history books, and biographies of historical figures, as well as personal accounts of people living during a particular time period- Samuel Pepys, Josephus... one of the most interesting books I ever read was simply criminal court records from Medieval London, which gave a fascinating view of life at the time- sometimes grim, sometimes tragic, and sometimes just plain funny. Hmm...maybe I like history so much because I'm nosy. Of course, I also love reading novels- or watching movies- which have a historical setting: "A Tale of Two Cities" or "The Scarlet Pimpernel" for example, both set during the French Revolution, or any of Jane Austen's works occurring in the Regency period. I'm currently reading "Quo Vadis" by Henryk Sienkiewicz, which takes place in Rome during the reign of Nero. Sienkiewicz includes an amazing amount of detail about life at that time, which I'm finding both fascinating and repellent- but more on that at a later date. This brings me back- in a very roundabout way- to my original point, which is that I think Kipling was right: human beings love stories, and will remember things in them better than they will just a dry repetition of facts, if only because they'll pay more attention to a well-told tale. This was an idea that the National Film Board of Canada ran with, in hopes of imparting some knowledge to Canadian kids parked in front of T.V. screens. They made a series of vignettes about events in Canadian history, mostly animated, and often humorous, which were a couple of minutes long, and would play between shows like commercials. I'm not sure they impelled any kids to further historical scholarship, but they were memorable... Lady Francis Simpson and her piano... Bill Miner and his failed train robbery... they stick in the memory. Later these animated shorts gave way to Canadian Heritage Minutes, live action dramatizations of pieces of history that serve the same purpose, but tend to be more earnest than the tongue-in-cheek shorts were... which isn't always a bad thing. I'm going to post two YouTube videos below: one of my favourite vignettes, and one of the Canadian Heritage Moments. Enjoy. I recently finished reading 'Act One: An Autobiography by Moss Hart'. I'd been planning to read it for a long time, and happily, was not disappointed. I've been a fan of his writing since the first time I watched Frank Capra's 1938 movie, 'You Can't Take It With You', adapted from Hart's play which he wrote in partnership with George Kaufman. I immediately tracked down a copy of the play, which happily was paired with another of Kaufman & Hart's works, 'The Man Who Came To Dinner'. Incidentally, this play was also made into a movie, in 1942. Both of these works are absolutely hilarious, and a tribute to the combined brilliance of Kaufman and Hart. 'Act One' was written by Hart in 1959, and does not provide an account of his entire career. It begins in his childhood and concludes with the success of 'Once In A Lifetime', his first play with Kaufman. Since he titled the book 'Act One', Hart no doubt intended to write a follow-up, but unfortunately he died of a heart attack in 1961. One of the great things about reading an autobiography by a Pulitzer prize winning playwright is the quality of the writing... I've picked up one or two autobiographies "written" by famous people, and quickly put them down again, unable to get past the terrible writing style. There's no danger of that here: Hart's book is expertly written and a completely engrossing read. I'm not alone in thinking this, of course- in the theatrical world, 'Act One' is considered the definitive insider's take on the rocky road to Broadway success. And there can't be many autobiographies that have been made into plays themselves, as 'Act One' was (also a movie). Moss Hart was born in New York to parents who were Jewish immigrants from Britain. He grew up in poverty; his father, who was disabled, eked out a living as a cigar roller until mechanization eliminated his job. In the first part of 'Act One', we see young Moss' dissatisfaction with his life: his loneliness and sense of alienation from his rather dysfunctional family- his domineering grandfather, his defeated father and emotionally distant mother, his silent brother, and his selfish, eccentric Aunt Kate. It is Aunt Kate who introduces Moss to the theater, though in a rather unfortunate way. Living off the meagre income of Mr Hart, Kate refuses to get a job or help with the family finances in any way. Instead, she spends every penny she gets her hands on buying tickets to the theater, occasionally taking young Moss with her. These plays- viewed from the cheap seats- fire Moss' imagination, and he is devastated when, after a fight with his father, Kate is ejected from their home. From his youth, Hart dreams of escaping the poverty which surrounds him and entering the magical world of the theater. This seems a forlorn hope, however, as he is forced to drop out of school after grade seven and get a job to support the family. He works in a fur storage vault, which leaves him smelling so badly that no one will sit near him on the subway during his long trips home. Fed up, one day he just walks off the job and never goes back. Through luck-or fate- he finds employment as an office boy for a theatrical company, and has a series of jobs as an entertainment director at summer resorts. His accounts of these jobs provide a lot of humour, mostly because the conditions and demands of these positions are so unbelievably appalling. Eventually, through hard work, luck, and plain dogged determination, he meets the man who will change his life. Hart has written a play which the powers-that-be think has promise but needs work, to which end he is sent to see George S. Kaufman. At this time, Kaufman was already a famous writer, one of the theatrical elite. He was also well known as a play doctor, who would collaborate with other writers, helping them fix and rewrite their scripts. I must say, this is my favourite part of the book because their unlikely partnership has always fascinated me. They were a study in opposites- Hart enthusiastic and mercurial, Kaufman almost allergic to any display of excitement or sentiment. Hart is at first completely intimidated by Kaufman, who is 15 years older and famous, which leads to some really funny misunderstandings. Hart spends the first months of their relationship starving, because Kaufman rarely eats while he's working, and Moss is too shy to ask for a lunch break. Also, he thinks for the longest time that George's wife is his sister, because Kaufman never bothers to introduce her, and again, Moss can't bring himself to ask. At one point, Moss mentally composes a speech expressing his gratitude to Kaufman, but when he starts to actually say it, George abruptly gets up and leaves the room. Moss is abashed and afraid he offended, until it is explained to him that George just can't take expressions of gratitude or emotion- they make him awkward and uncomfortable. One scene in this part of the book which I find really humorous is one in which Kaufman's wife, Beatrice, insists that he stop working and come down to tea with their company. Exasperated and grumbling, Kaufman accedes to her demands, dragging Hart along with him. Moss is shocked- and embarrassed- as he enters the room in his rumpled clothes and finds himself in the presence of the literary and Hollywood elite: Dorothy Parker, Harpo Marx, Alexander Woolcott, and Leslie Howard, to name a few. What is less funny is the agony they suffer over the writing of 'Once In A Lifetime'. After months of writing, they believe the script is ready, audition actors, and go to work staging and producing the play. Unfortunately, it fails with audiences and critics, so they frantically write and rewrite, and still it's a failure. Finally, having hit a brick wall, Kaufman is ready to throw in the towel. Unwilling to give up, Hart studies his beloved play critically and realizes that more than repair work is needed: the entire last act of the play will have to be ripped out and a new one written. The drastic cut done, inspiration starts to flow once again, and he and Kaufman finish 'Once In A Lifetime', which becomes a critical and commercial success, as does their partnership. 'Act One' ends on a high note, with Hart moving his family out of their dingy apartment into a luxurious home, full of hopes and dreams for the successes to come. 'Act One' is a great book, sometimes achingly sad, sometimes laugh-out-loud funny, and always eminently readable even if it's not always completely factual. It must be admitted that Moss took a few liberties with the truth. For example, in 'Act One', he writes touchingly about his Aunt Kate's death. In truth, she didn't die: always odd, she eventually went crazy, harassing Hart with threatening letters, vandalizing his home, and setting fires backstage at one of his plays. He omits this from the narrative... perhaps Moss the playwright wrote the ending he thought she should have, rather than her actual one. It is also true that Hart wasn't always as upbeat and positive about Broadway and success as his book would have you believe. There is a diary that he wrote in the last few years of his life which chronicled his depression and disenchantment with all of it. His wife, Kitty Carlisle, refused to release it to the public until after her death, probably because of the biting things he said about some of their acquaintances. This would seem to contradict a lot of what he wrote in 'Act One', but it should be pointed out that at the time he was struggling with bouts of what has now been diagnosed as bipolar disorder, characterized by periods of deep depression alternating with times of extreme energy, punctuated by extravagant shopping sprees. To combat this, he was seeing a quack doctor who was giving him weekly electric shock treatments. The wonder of it is not that he was writing dark thoughts in his diary, but that he could function at all, let alone maintain a successful career. However the final act of his life played out, 'Act One' is the touching and inspiring account of a young boy who dared to dream big, and then made that dream become a reality. "How many of us would be willing to settle when we're young for what we eventually get? All those plans we make... what happens to them? It's only a handful of the lucky ones that can look back and say that they even came close." - 'You Can't Take It With You'
'The Secrets of Happy Families' is a book by Bruce Feiler in which he discusses methods and strategies to improve family life and happiness. This isn't a review of the book, because I haven't read it. What I have read is someone else's review of it, and I was particularly interested in one point discussed. Feiler contends that happy families know about their family's history. He cites a study which was done of multiple families which found: "The more children knew about their family's history, the stronger their sense of control over their lives, the higher their self esteem, and the more successfully they believed their families functioned." Reading this made me reflect back over my own childhood, and realize just how important oral history was to our family. Over the years, tales were told- and retold- of our parents' childhoods, and their families' as well. Also long term family history: the MacDonald clan has a long and colourful past which makes for exciting (and often violent) tales. These stories in particular have led me to make two trips to Scotland... I still remember the sense of connection I felt as I stood for the first time overlooking Glencoe, and on Culloden moor, of which I had heard so often as a child. I think these tales also sparked my love of historical fiction. Time marches on, and now the children are my nephews and nieces. As they appeared on the scene, we just naturally began telling them the same stories we had heard as children, as well as some about our own childhood added to the mix. And they are fascinated by them, just as we were, requesting their favourites time and again. Some years back, inspired by her kids' love of these tales, one of my sisters hit upon the idea of writing a family storybook. Each fall, she emails everyone in the family a subject, and we all write of topical personal or family occurrences. Last year the subject was 'accidents' and entries included the tale of one of my brothers and I piloting our toboggan into a fence post at a high rate of speed, and a sister's bike crash which ended with her landing in a tree. We send these stories back to my sister, and at Christmas, her children receive a new chapter to add to their family binder. Her husband also sends it to the rest of the family in ebook form, so everyone can enjoy the stories. At one of our most recent family get togethers, I entered my sister's living room and found a bunch of the young cousins gathered around my eldest niece, Katie, as she read them the story, 'Great Grandma and the Halifax Explosion'. None of these kids remember their Great Grandma Dorothy, but they know about her. Through this tale, they learn about an important event in Nova Scotian history, as well as how scary it was for five-year-old Dot and her family. It makes her real and relatable; she'll never be just a figure in old photographs to them. As the years go by, these children will grow up and have families; they'll take with them these stories and add more of their own. At the risk of stating the obvious, 'Schulz and Peanuts' is a biography of Charles Schulz written by David Michaelis. I was given the book as a gift, and was very excited to read it, because I'm a big Peanuts fan. So read it I did and, well, I didn't enjoy it as much as I thought I would. To be fair, Michaelis obviously put a lot of time and effort into researching his subject, and there are parts of the book which I find really interesting. Actually, I quite enjoyed most of the first part of the book, which deals with his rather difficult childhood, his stint in the army, and the tragedy of his mother's death. It was fascinating to get a glimpse of events in Schulz's life which obviously affected his comic strip creations later in life.It is only further on in the book that things take a turn for the... uncomfortable, I guess you'd say. Michaelis spends a lot- a lot - of time focusing on Schulz's unhappy and often unsuccessful relationships with women, and his failed marriage. I hasten to say that I don't expect an honest biography to include only the good stuff and leave out the bad: on the contrary, it should tell the truth about its subject- "warts and all". The problem I have with this one is that it seems to focus in on the warts with a microscope, discussing them, their cause and effect, to the exclusion of all else. Probably some of my discomfort with this is my own fault; having grown up on Charles Schultz's works, being made privy to the less pleasant aspects of his personal life was a bit squirm-inducing, not unlike what someone relating to you intimate details of your grandparents' marriage would be.
For a book about a comic strip creator, however, Michaelis' book is oddly joyless and lacking in any humour. While the author has no difficulty detailing Schulz's sometimes paralyzing self-doubt and depression, he fails to ever bring to life the man who could find self-effacing, and sometimes biting, humour in these circumstances. Michaelis also spends a lot of time finding correlations between what was going on in Schulz's life and what he was drawing in his strip. Some of this is valid; it doesn't take a genius to know that Schulz was often mining personal experience for Peanuts. But Michaelis carries this a bit too far, in my opinion, sometimes exaggerating the importance of a remark or action by Schulz in order to prove his hypotheses. Also, he has an annoying habit of engaging in armchair psychology, in which a lot of his conclusions about Schulz's motivations seem mostly surmise and supposition, based on data which could easily be interpreted in other ways. I might be doing him a disservice, but I got the feeling while reading the book that Michaelis decided early on who Schulz was and why, then went looking for annecdotes and strips which would support his theories. Charles Schulz's kids and several people who knew him well have reacted badly to this biography, saying that they don't recognize the warm, generous man they remember in Michaelis' portrayal. I suspect that the truth lies somewhere in between- that Charles Schulz had his flawed, angst ridden side described is such great detail by Michaelis, but also had his warm, humorous side so fondly remembered by those who loved him. In short, he was human. This book, unfortunately, just doesn't make time for other, contradictory, facets of his character, which for me, anyway, makes its portrayal of him seem incomplete and sort of flat. Whatever the true nature of the elusive Mr Schulz, I'm simply glad that he lived, and gave us such a great gift as Charlie Brown and the rest of the Peanuts Gang. Today is the 70th anniversary of D-Day. On June 6, 1944, an allied force of British, American, and Canadian troops landed on five beaches of Normandy, and embarked upon the invasion which was the beginning of the end for the war in Europe. The beach assigned to the Canadian divisions was Juno, and it was a tough one. Bad weather and rough seas made landing difficult, and when the soldiers did disembark, they encountered some of the heaviest German resistance of the day. Only on Omaha Beach, where the Americans landed, was the German resistance fiercer. Of the Commonwealth forces, the Canadians sustained the highest ratio of casualties that day. Despite this, their training and preparation prevailed: they took the beach, and ended the day having pushed further inland than any other Allied divisions. The short clip of film below was shot by Sgt. Bill Grant of the Canadian Army Film and Photo Unit. It shows infantrymen of the North Shore Regiment from New Brunswick landing at Juno Beach, and is some of the only surviving film footage of the Normandy beach landings. Today, many of the ever-dwindling number of men who fought on the beaches that day have returned to the shores of Normandy on a pilgrimage of remembrance. No words uttered by the dignitaries at the commemorative events- and certainly nothing written by me- can express the magnitude of the debt we owe them and their fallen comrades. Below is a picture of a cemetery where many of the Canadians killed on Juno Beach are buried. Take some time today to recall the cost of our freedom. My grandmother was an avid reader of obituaries. It was a source of amusement to the family: she would always turn to that section of the paper with a cheerful, "Let's see who died today." I've never been that interested in keeping track, myself...and now that my grandmother's gone, I can usually rely on my mother contacting me if an obscure relation of someone I went to elementary school with has died. Having recently finished Mark Steyn's 'Passing Parade', however, I must concede that my grandmother may have been onto something.Though I doubt anything in our local paper was ever even fractionally as witty and well-written as Steyn's columns. To state the obvious, 'Passing Parade' is a collection of the obituaries and memorials that Steyn has written over the years about the famous, the infamous, and quite a few people in between. Sometimes admiring, sometimes biting, and often laugh-out-loud funny, Mark Steyn's writing is always eminently readable. One thing I appreciate about the obituaries is his honesty; Steyn doesn't bother trying to be charitable to those who don't deserve it, eschewing the old bromide that one shouldn't speak ill of the dead. Some of the dead- Idi Amin, for example- should have ill spoken of them, and Steyn doesn't hold back. Nor is he reserved in praising those who have earned it, such as Pope John Paul II. He also draws attention to those whose deaths might otherwise pass unremarked: Judy Garland's third husband...Frank Sinatra's pianist...the guy who invented Tang and Cool Whip. Steyn frequently goes beyond the cut and dried facts about his subjects, recounting anecdotes of little-known events in their lives, their quirks and foibles ... odds and ends that bring them alive for us and make them human. Sometimes he doesn't even talk about the deceased so much as the circumstances surrounding their death, and what it says about the people and that period of time. One example of this is Princess Diana and the curious, almost cult-like, hysterical mass mourning which took place following her demise. Whether you (like my grandmother) have a fondness for obituaries, or an interest in people, their lives and times, or just love great writing, I highly recommend Mark Steyn's 'Passing Parade'. It is a genuine pleasure to read. Pierre Berton's 'Vimy' is a history book which doesn't read like a history book: it actually reads more like a novel. This is not to downplay the seriousness of the topic- it's deadly serious. But Berton didn't primarily write to give an account of the historical facts of the battle, although his book does this, thoroughly. His aim was, rather, to provide readers with an inkling of what it was like to actually be there. Berton described in vivid detail not only what the soldiers did, but what they saw, heard, and thought before and during the battle. He used the personal accounts, letters, and journals of men who were there to accomplish this. The result is a moving portrait of young men facing destruction and death a world away from everything they had known who, with courage, hard-won experience,and innovation, persevered. One thing which really strikes me about 'Vimy' is how the Canadian army was composed of men who were, literally, from every walk of life. Over and over Berton's accounts start, "...Lewis Black, a lumberman from the Ottawa Valley..." or "...Corporal Gus Sivertz, an optometrist from Victoria..." What is also striking is how these men, in war, became what they needed to be, no matter their background. The chief gunner at Vimy, E.W.B. "Dinky" Morrison, had previously been the editor of the Ottawa Citizen. David Watson, commander of the 4th Division, ran the Quebec Chronicle. Andy McNaughton, former engineering student at McGill University, developed the counter-battery techniques which would cripple the German artillery at Vimy. Even Arthur Currie, who became a general and one of the most able commanders of the war, in Canada had been an unsuccessful real estate agent. Before the war, Canada had no standing army. Its ranks were therefore filled with men-civilians- who learned their craft under fire, and learned it so well that they became one of the toughest fighting forces of the war. People tend to be ambivalent about World War I. One of the reasons for this is that the motivations behind it aren't as cut and dry as those for WWII. Ask someone about reasons for WWII, and you'll promptly be told that the Nazis, with their death camps, dreams for world domination and a master race, needed to be stopped. Ask about WWI, and you'll probably get muddled explanations about the assassination of Arch Duke Ferdinand, and old alliances which needed to be honoured. It's just not as clear cut. Also, the "war to end all wars" was not that. Twenty years later, the world was once again plunged into war, and some of the conditions which allowed the rise of Hitler and the Third Reich can be traced to the aftermath of WWI. Further, the losses of the war were so horrendous that often its results seem overshadowed by its cost. Even with the the victory at Vimy, Berton concludes that the ground gained was not worth the lives lost. Whatever your opinions on the war, what should not be overlooked are the deeds of the men. One of the great strengths of Berton's book is that it clearly outlines just what these men- individually and as a whole- accomplished under the worst conditions imaginable. In his account, the Canadian Corps is not just a faceless mass, but many individuals who fought shoulder to shoulder as brothers, and as Canadians. We may, from our privileged positions, question the end results of the Great War, but we should never forget the sacrifices made in it, or do less than honour the men who gave all at Vimy and elsewhere. In closing, I read 'Vimy' shortly after I finished rereading 'Sunshine Sketches Of A Little Town', published in 1912, and it was a jarring contrast. One of the features of that delightful book is the insular thinking of the town's denizens. Their town is the center of their existence, and they have little interest in the outside world. Two years later, in 1914, Canada was at war. Their young men in deadly peril far away in France, Canadians were forced into a wider knowledge of the world. The small town innocence described in 'Sunshine Sketches' was gone forever, and the book, within two years of its publication, had become a period piece. As warned, I will occasionally slip some nonfiction into my posts... this is one of those times. 'Vimy' is a book written by Pierre Berton about the taking of Vimy Ridge by the Canadians during World War I. If you're not a Canadian, you can be forgiven for not recognizing the name; in most history books, the battle would rate no more than a paragraph or two. After all, what's one engagement among so many in the four year horror that was the Great War. For Canadians, however, the Battle of Vimy Ridge looms large, as it was the first time that all the Canadian divisions fought together as one. More importantly, they did so as Canadians, not merely as British subjects, which played an integral part in the formation of our national identity. After Vimy, no one from the top echelons of British power on down thought of these troops simply as colonists come to defend the "auld sod". They had earned at a terrible cost the right to stand on the world stage with their own identity- Canadian. Vimy Ridge was considered to be of great strategic importance by both sides. The Germans held it, and they could be excused for believing it to be impregnable. Certainly they seemed to have every advantage: the high ground, familiarity, and dug-in defenses. Their confidence was no doubt bolstered by the fact that both the French and British armies had attempted to take the ridge earlier in the war and failed, resulting in catastrophic loss of life. They assumed that the Canadian army would fare no better, but on the morning of April 9, 1917 (Easter Monday) the Canadians , now a battle-hardened force with experienced leaders, attacked with ferocity, using innovative new tactics which the Germans had never encountered before. The fighting was fierce, the losses- on both sides- were staggering, but on April 12, The Canadian Corps stood in possession of Vimy Ridge. It was the first time in 32 months that the Germans had lost ground. It was never retaken. Berton's book is a focused one; it is about Vimy: the battle and its aftermath, but most of all, how the Canadians got to that point. He traces their path from the declaration of war by Canada and the eager lads coming from all parts of the country to sign up, to their training- such as it was- in England, to their arrival in France. From there, Berton details the shock and grim realization they have of the true nature of this war, the ghastly conditions they endure, and the terrible losses at battles like Ypres and the Somme. He also shows how many of these casualties were caused by hidebound British generals who, having antiquated notions of warfare and being unable or unwilling to adapt, condemned many under their command to wholesale slaughter. Against this terrible backdrop, Berton highlights the indomitable spirit and the toughness of these men-boys, really. Boys who, surviving these earlier engagements, learned from them, adapted, and fought on. When changes in command gave them competent- and Canadian- leadership, men who were focused on achieving victory through carefully planned, strategically smart battles, the Canadian Corps became a force to be reckoned with. Berton spends a lot of time detailing the preparations for Vimy, the meticulous planning and practices, the innovations thought up and put into practice by seasoned Canadians who had seen what didn't work, and were determined to do better. This is not an accounting of the entire war. As I said, Berton's book has a very narrow focus: the Canadians' journey to, and experiences at, Vimy Ridge. The actions and experiences of other armies and their men are mentioned only when they affect the Canadian divisions in some way. It is unflinching in its portrayal of the brutality and cost of war, but also chronicles the courage of these men, their fierce loyalty to each other, their ability to endure- and sometimes even laugh at- the grimmest of conditions. In short, it is the story of the "ordinary" men who fought and won Vimy Ridge, and forever changed the face of Canada. Related Posts: |
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