I've set a goal of finishing at least 15 books before the end of the year, and since geopolitical tensions are at an all-time high; I
figured I'd start with "All Quiet on the Western Front". Although I already knew that Paul died at the end heading into it; the book
still hit extremely hard. What mainly struck me was how normalized the extreme violence of the front was to the characters, they're
scared of course, but after the bombardments stop, they just carry on like nothing's happened. For instance, there's an absolutely
horrific attack in Chapter 4 where Paul and co have to hide in a graveyard; hoping desperately that their gas mask doesn't malfunction
and witnessing a young recruit nearly die. Then a few pages later, they're discussing how annoying it is getting rid of lice
like they didn't just narrowly escape death. Another example is towards the end of the book, where Paul and a few others are charged
with defending a supply dump. It's one of the very few chapters with a "happy" tone, but the excitement of them being able to
eat properly for the first time in presumably months is interlaced with casual asides about having to finish their cooking quickly
because shells are getting closer to their location, narrowly dodging said shells on the way from the house they're cooking in to their
dug-out, meanwhile the village the supply dump is in being completely destroyed. All this while the main focus is on how happy everyone
is to have fancy cigars and "lavish" meals, it really puts into perspective how typical those kinds of risks were to them; and it makes
sense because those incidents are nothing compared to the absolute horror of the proper trench warfare.
While the slower parts are crucial for developing Paul's character, and contain many of my favorite scenes. I consider the depictions
of front line combat in the trenches to be the heart and soul of the novel. Remarque really conveys the sheer terror and hopelessness
of these episodes, where Paul is stuck in some shell hole or dug-out for hours, 100% aware that there's a very good chance he could
die any second and equally aware that there's absolutely nothing he can do about it. The mellower scenes that focus on him scoring an
extra goose with his friend Kat or talking with his sick mother work perfectly with them by helping to humanize Paul. He's not just
generic WW1 German soldier no. 675829, he's an individual with interests, hobbies, and a life he led before joining up. It pulls double
duty in not only increasing the tension in the combat scenes by making Paul a 3-dimensional character, but also emphasizes that all the
other soldiers are also 3-dimensional people. When scenes describe people being picked off in a field, you're primed to think of
it as the tragedy it is, as a life full of aspirations, hopes and experiences that was snuffed out just like that. A fate so normalized
it hardly gets a line in a nearly 200 page novel. While I was already spoiled to Paul kicking the bucket at the end, it hammers home the
core theme that War Is Hell in an amazing way. A lot of people have the mentality that while, sure, war may be dangerous. They
would survive, they would be a superhero killing whole platoons without getting a scratch. Remarque spends the whole novel
exploring Paul, his backstory, his thoughts, his aspirations, the horrors he goes through, the happy moments, the frustrating bits, the
completely bizarre. Then he dies, on a normal day where nothing notable happens. His luck just ran out, some faceless artillery operator
got a lucky shot, or he possibly commits suicide after his best friend Kat doesn't make it. It's an incredibly powerful ending, even
knowing the twist. I thought his death would get a full chapter, or even a more complete explanation. But I really like how Remarque
keeps his obituary to a single paragraph; driving home that Paul isn't special, he's just another statistic of a German soldier who died
in WW1, who, like the hundreds of thousands who also perished, had their own complex lives and feelings.
I was a pacifist coming into this book, but I don't know how someone could read this novel from front to back and not come out of it
anti-war. It's truly chilling in an incredible way, it's not overly grimdark for the sake of being edgy, but it knows when to shock you
out of you comfort zone. I found it a fantastic start to what will hopefully be a year full of great literature.