What to say that hasn't already been said about this book? As I read it I was mindful of other reviews and criticism and tried to form my own opinion, which inevitably is also influenced by the fact that I've previously seen "Gettysburg" various times - but never understanding it so well as when I watched it this latest time, after reading the book. And I also understood the source of the fascination this work offers to me and, I think, to many other fans.
Michael Shaara's peculiar, rich, immediate style, stream-of-consciousness-like, brings the reader into the action and into the mind of the protagonists. To a rookie like me, the book explains the battle fairly well; better than the movie, but maybe it's just me, I always get more involved into the images and the atmosphere than the plot of a movie - a book lets me concentrate better. Of course, it's not a history book, so one of its best result is to push inquiring minds to get deeper into the matter and go look up serious historical sources. Speaking of which, I remember the exchange I've had with Zou the other time we discussed this matter. Of course, having footnotes would utterly kill a novel! For my own writings, I'm experimenting with chapter-by-chapter appendixes, where I explain what I made up and what I didn't; though I understand this too could be cumbersome. However I would have appreciated at least an essential bibliography for "The Killer Angels", to be able to value the sources, since so much of it is historically correct but something may not be. For example, the episode of Armistead giving his ring to Pickett's fiancée is related only, for what I know, in Pickett's letters, edited by LaSalle Corbell Pickett herself, and, it seems, not very reliable. And there are small blunders even I have noticed, and some facts are a bit confused - so, is Garnett ill, or wounded, or both things at once?
But back to the themes of the book and its impact on readers. On seeing in written form the same events I've seen on the screen, I've nailed something that at first seemed to me just a movie device, and which is the base of most criticism, but also, I think, of the success of the "saga". Like the movie, the book concerns itself with the most important historical protagonists - Lee, Buford, Longstreet, Chamberlain, Armistead, Hancock - leaving to everyday soldiers like Kilrain or Harrison a secondary role. Shaara brings us into the minds of these people, and they are all noble, honourable idealists, with the highest thoughts and feelings. We are told about both sides' motives for fighting the war and they are all reasonable and worthy, which probably was true for the best of them. We have an insight of these people's personal history, some of which makes it into the movie (Armistead and Hancock's friendship), some doesn't (Longstreet's loss of his children - though his laconic restraint in the movie may hint at what plagues him). By the way, since lately I mentioned Garnett's plight in another thread with EWC, it's interesting to note that his back story is mentioned only in the book and not in the movie (at least not in the version I own - I've heard there's a longer version which includes him thanking Longstreet for giving him the opportunity of being there); the movie character has almost no trace of that deathly melancholy that haunts him in the book, however he made perfect sense all the same to me, even when I watched it the first time and had no idea of who he was. He goes into battle despite being physically unfit, apparently not because he wants to erase the stigma of Kernstown and escape Stonewall's ghost, but because, short of being knocked out cold, no matter the illness, he would be there encouraging his men, it's his duty. A different interpretation, which turned out well in the movie.
To sum up. When, some time ago, I commented on "Gettysburg" and historical characters, I used a comparison with fables: now I'd also like to mention myth, in the most positive meaning of the word, that is an idealised fact which can become a symbol and a point of reference. On reading the book, people like King Arthur or Achilles came to my mind. I've been reading about myths, and the comfort they offer to humankind, since I was at the university, and I don't know whether it's a deliberate intention of the author, but "The Killer Angels" comes out as a modern epic. Even the style has an almost classical cadence, with repetitions and solemn tones, which sometimes turn out a bit corny (as I said before, I had hoped to glean some other fact about Garnett from the book, but mostly all one gets is a distant rumble of thunder whenever he is mentioned). Such an approach has its drawbacks and its charm. When one gets to know them better, rarely historical characters live up to this kind of idealisation; moreover, the larger picture of the war comes out as lacking and warped. However, in my opinion this work contributes to create a new collection of heroes and myths, which helps to provide inspiration even so many years later. When Hancock and Chamberlain talk in the movie (not in the book, and I guess not in reality) about two friends on opposite sides of a battlefield, I really can't think of any example in Greek or Roman tradition or in the Bible (there's Cùchulain and Ferdiad in Irish history); however, after "The Killer Angels" and "Gettysburg" we do have a well-known myth of this kind, don't we?
It may seem weird that I'm so enthusiastic about the history of a country that is not mine, but I believe in something like a world culture of common values and inspirations that can be shared by anybody who wishes it, no matter where one lives. The beauty of myths is that they are universal, if one digs deep enough.
What you say about the power of myth and its importance are so true.
By the way, the classic story of two warring brothers in the Bible is that of Jacob and Esau, Genesis 27-33. It is an astoundingly beautiful story, which I read when I feel the world will not become a better place. Jacob is also an archetype in the style of Ulysses, the wanderer who is trying to get home and has all kinds of adventures along the way. These stories lie deep in western culture, so I am not at all surprised that they resonate with you, dear Italian friend.
They are not necessarily universal, however. The Asian world diverges greatly from our mythical base in many respects. (I love to watch Chinese films: they utterly fascinate me because the emphasis is so very different.) Here is one example: there is an Asian man, who happens to be a martial arts expert, sitting in a bar when the man next to him starts to threaten violence. What happens? The Asian man gets up and runs out! Now put a westerner in the same situation that the Asian was in, what happens? The westerner picks up the guy next to him and throws him out. In the Asian world, though, the Asian man in this story was heroic and virtuous for not fighting at all.
Thanks, LongstreetLass! I was forgetting the story of Jacob and Esau. However they found themselves on opposite parts because they became personal enemies, and later made peace when they met again. I was reminded of Cuchulain and Ferdiad because I came across the legend while researching costumes for my latest Celtic fair: they were friends and had no grudge whatsoever towards each other, but Cuchulain was an enemy of Queen Maeve of Connaught in the legendary feud between Ulster and Connaught, and Ferdiad was her ally. So she sends all her champions against Cuchulain and they all fall, and last is Ferdiad (or Ferdia). Cuchulain tries to dissuade him. "It is not thou, O Ferdia, who shouldst have come to do battle with me. When we were with Skatha did we not go side by side in every battle, through every wood and wilderness? were we not heart-companions, comrades, in the feast and the assembly? did we not share one bed and one deep slumber?" But Ferdiad is bound to his word, and they fight at a ford between the two regions: "Backwards and forwards, then, across the Ford, hummed the light javelins like bees on a summer's day, but when noonday had come not one weapon had pierced the defence of either champion. Then they took to the heavy missile spears, and now at last blood began to flow, for each champion wounded the other time and again." At the end of each day of fight they embrace and kiss and camp together, but on the third day things get really tough, and on the fourth Cuchulain goes berserk and, though being wounded, kills Ferdiad in his fury. Then he carries Ferdiad away to bury him and lies for many days shattered in body and spirit. (My source: an old book of Celtic myths by T.W. Rolleston, but it's easy to find the story on the Net. Here for example you can read it in the original Irish. http://vassun.vassar.edu/~sttaylor/Cooley/)
You're right about the special characteristics of Eastern philosophy. However there are similarities too, and I forgot to thank you also for posting the "Warrior's Creed" on the other thread. That's something that could be applied to many warriors of all times and places.
What beautiful language in the Cuchalain/Ferdiad story! I nearly cried.
You make a good point about the Jacob/Esau story in comparison to the Celtic story above. Really, I think Jacob is a kind of Ulysses. It is the story of an individual's attempt to gain favor with God (or the gods) through virtue and eventually coming to a place of honor, love, respect, and prosperity.
The Samurai are a curious lot. Though they would seem to have similarities to our medieval knights, they do not share with the west the development of romantic love, which was based, of course, in Christianity. We would definitely have chosen to be geisha, Redeye, over being married in the East.
Killer Angels was a tragedy in the Greek sense. Lee's hubris, his pride and his devoted followers combine to led him to make the terrible mistake of ordering Pickett's Charge. Lee's greatness contribute to his downfall, since his officers(except Longstreet) don't, mentally can't oppose him. Even Longstreet falls in line after voicing his objections. Lee, like the true Greek hero, realizes his mistake, that he may have crippled his army and lost his cause. Martin Sheen was not many people's idea of Lee, but he did understand this and play his character accordingly.
Longstreet, and implicitly Lee, dismiss the "Cause," almost contempteously, displaying the classic Greek virtue of excellence for its own sake. But on the Union side, Chamberlain offers a positive vision of a free and democratic America. The Maine colonel's cause prevails, and a good thing, the author concludes.
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