Stalingrad (Vasily Grossman, 1952 (English translation 2019)

(961 pages)

Companion work with Grossman's Life and Fate (wonderful in its own right).

This book was written much more circumspectly than Life and Fate - it was sufficiently congenial to Soviet censors such that it was published in 1952.  This one gets a little tiresome from time to time - collective farm enthusiasts, anxious to fight, etc. - yet it doesn't ignore the issue of occasionally corrupt leaders.

The bit about the political instructors in the army - perhaps the most blatant propagandizing - was a bit surprising, my take (based on limited knowledge) was that these folks were annoying, interfered with military decisions.  No mention of shooting deserters.

As I was occasionally finding myself annoyed with the propagandizing . . . it occurred to me that great literature so often has this aspect, more or less, and can be great nonetheless - Old Testament stories, Aeneid, Koran, any history written by a victor or someone wanting to make a point.  In some ways I suppose it helps illustrate the world in which the writer was functioning.

Main point:  in the end the book is full of well-written stories of all walks of Russian life experiencing WWII and, in particular, the Stalingrad battle and its context - by an author who clearly had been there - deeply knowledgeable.

Per the "introduction," the character Krymov is Grossman's voice; he articulates pro-Communist positions; sometimes sounding like Rubin in The First Circle.

War and Peace analogies were intentional - key character visits the Tolstoy homestead.

Many great characters, including a peasant in first part of the book - Vavilov - he learns soldiering as an older draftee.  Early stages of the war reminiscent of that summer of 1914 (through Novikov's eyes).  Krymov tells other stories of 1941 - caught in Kiev encirclement, escapes with 200; returning to the front in 1942.  Description of the first saturation bombing run over Stalingrad was excellent.

I also much liked the stories of folks holding out in the tractor factory.

Stalingrad situation was entirely epic.

Buddha in the Attic (Julie Otsuka, 2011)

(129 pages)

Book club selection (via Rose; session held 15 September 2019).

Really well written story of Japanese "picture brides" who came over to the U.S (in early 20th century, I believe).  Starts with their high hopes on the boat coming to the U.S., moves through disappointments when they meet their actual husbands, then they settle in and build lives.

Conscious decision by author, editor, publisher - super-low key, no individual characters following a plot, short; leads up to WWII interment camps, but provides no "here's what happened after the internment."

Like poetry; incredibly dense.  I was somewhat discouraged around the halfway mark, then was sorry it was ending.

It does make one think of what I'll call national traits - immigrant groups did (probably still do) bring some characteristics that can be generalized, no matter how out of fashion this might have become.   Japanese immigrants thriving in California.

Also makes one think about the power of groups in general, or tribes; the "other"; mob mentality can turn on the "other" - seems like an intractable problem (though I do think there is overall progress).

The book also provided another useful take at describing being a stranger in a strange land.

Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte, 1847)

(521 pages)

Book club selection (via PJ; session held 4 August 2019).

Somehow I've managed to never read even one book by any of the Bronte sisters.  Borrowed this one from PJr.  I liked it a great deal.

Immediately felt that the protagonist (Jane Eyre) overlapped in significant ways with Lizzie (protagonist in Mill on the Floss).  A google search confirmed others have thought the same (unfortunately often couched in terms that strike someone like me as feminist critical lit gibberish).

The plot is quite well known - young Jane starts out living with her relatives (as unappreciated ward); then to boarding school for indigents; then to a role as governess at Thornfield; then to Moor House (with relatives); then the finale.  Very appealing character.

Interesting how "physiognomy" was a thing in those days - often mentioned.

I hadn't realized how the views on Christianity in this work were considered controversial at the time.  Including the idea that the protagonist is looking for human love moreso than the divine version.  Didn't know that the author wrote under an assumed name.

I like the glimpse of 1847 England; ferment prior to the 1848 revolutions.  Author (or at least her characters) considered India rather deadly (though the Brits had been active there for about a century at this point).

Where India Goes - Abandoned Toilets, Stunted Development and the Costs of Caste (Diane Coffey and Dean Spears, 2017)

(238 pages)

Authors study and write about open defecation in rural India; most of the field work by the authors was done in the north; of course plenty of environmental issues remain in India's urban areas (including sanitation issues), but the authors state that open defecation has mostly ceased in the cities.

The continuation of open defecation in rural India was often thought to be an issue of poverty - lack of resources - but the puzzle has been that income has risen - to levels higher than other countries that don't have open defecation issues.

As the most practical solution, authors are generally talking about a latrine without running water in these areas.  Quite a few latrines being built; a major government initiative was launched with Modi support in 2014 with the goal of ending the problem in five years.  Getting folks to use the latrines has been a knottier problem.  Authors explain the harm to children (illnesses, stunted growth and development) and others, and the consequences for the economy.

A major value of the book is its detailed look at just how complicated it can be to effect change as to something that inarguably seems good for everyone.  The authors are respectful of traditions that are deeply rooted and typically have social/historical reasons that make some sense (even if caste practices now are generally indefensible and sanitation issues clear).

A number of factors come into play but this problem seems almost uniquely tied to caste - perhaps the most notorious task assigned to Dalits was cleaning up "night soil" - so in early 21st century, as Dalits work to escape untouchability - if there is a latrine, who will clean it?  Anyone upper caste obviously will not (too much status-risk); lower caste members also will not given their aspirations not to be perceived as such.  Authors discuss high price for bringing a professional cleaning service to rural areas - out of reach for most latrine-owners.

Reluctance to use a latrine in part because rural residents believe the pit-cleaning issue will be upon the owner - soon and repeatedly - without an acceptable solution.  Related problem - for those willing to build a latrine - tend to overbuild the pit - way larger than international norms or sanitation requirements would indicate - in the belief that the cleaning problem can be deferred for indefinite future (also signals prosperity).  But this makes the latrine far more expensive - out of reach for folks that would put these funds toward basic housing.  Building the recommended (affordable) pit would make the owner appear un-prosperous.

Government wants to report success, so lots of statistics about the number of latrines being built.  Not so interested in gathering data about whether latrines are actually being used; or whether the latrines are even constructed properly (this a problem - local diversion of funds etc.) 

Policy suggestions ensue.  All this is interesting, useful.

Kim (Rudyard Kipling, 1901)

(306 pages)

I've seen several references to this being an unusually good work - including via the Anecdotal Evidence blog (a favorite) - and I like Kipling's work in general - so thought I'd try it. Enjoyed the book a lot, though I don't feel it met my perhaps too-pumped-up expectations.

Bio discussion here.

Kim is a young Irish orphan living in Lahore; street-smart, personable, well versed in local ways and language.  His father was in an Irish regiment and made some minor arrangements for his care; also told him how he would find his fortune.  Kim encounters a lama traveling down from the mountainous northeast - a variant of Buddhism - on a quest of his own, and they join forces.

Kim encounters the regiment, is required to attend school, and eventually is recruited to participate in what is referred to as the "Great Game" - which is rather assumed to be a glorious endeavor as Russia and England jockey for position relative to India, Afghanistan, other "stans" - apparently this was a pretty big geopolitical  deal as there are constant references to it in 19th century stories.

But the "Great Game" part is somewhat a side light - I like the discussions of India - primarily in the North - all the characters Kim encounters - also the pursuit of the lama's quest.

Kipling as the conflicted figure - used language such as "white man's burden" and other jingoistic works so I'd expect quite unfashionable these days; yet as he grew older, perhaps all along, he's seemingly much in love (and sympathy) with India.  As one would expect, the views of his time seep through; but he doesn't seem to glorify West views as if inherently superior to those from India.

Kipling born in India but had much early schooling in England, then back to India at age 16 and starts writing in Lahore (newspaper, etc.)  He was deeply connected to India, and I think it shows.

The Broken Road (Patrick Leigh Fermor, edited by Colin Thubron and Artemis Cooper) (2013 (from 1930s travels))

(349 pages)

This is the third of Fermor's now-famous trilogy in which he writes - much after the fact - about his 1930s walk from Holland to Constantinople (or thereabouts).  I really liked all three; perhaps this best of all notwithstanding its unusual provenance.  In this book Fermor is traveling from the "Iron Gates" (on the Danube along the Serbian-Romanian border) to Constantinople; then onto Mt. Athos (Greece).

Here's an overview of book one; here's an overview of book two.  They're quite wonderful.

For book three, Fermor had more source material available (most of his 1930s notebooks were lost - pretty much everything relating to books one and two).  Fermor started this book, then set it aside . . . returned much later . . . but never finished.  The last portion (on Mt. Athos) is more directly taken from a diary - different style.  The two editors did their best, and it's quite good.

I keep feeling that Fermor was unusually gifted in seeing it, taking it in, and then succeeding in describing it; upper-class Brit perspective but not failing to see by feeling superior or judgmental.  Unusual in that he experienced all this as very young and inexperienced; then he wrote it up decades later - trying to filter out later experiences and knowledge, but I think possession of just that (ultimately unfilter-able) made the writing more interesting.  Not provable one way or the other.

Also the 1930s are inherently interesting - this a last glimpse of a pre-industrial world in many of these areas; preceded the vast WWII changes; areas absorbing, more or less, WWI changes - again, described with post-WWII knowledge - this approach works.

This part of the world is totally interesting to me - largely unknown; reading a lot but barely scratching surface.  I get the impression that things somehow run deeper for the local populace - not sure how to express this idea - their history goes way back, they have been overrun by conquerors so often (with attendant suffering) - Fermor's descriptions of the the sounds of the music, the instruments, the voices; hmmm.

And then the variations of Christianity introduced here, often competing, the depth of the icons and the ceremonies, again perhaps spurred by the regular, and awful, invasions.

Bulgaria, Romania, Hungary, Greece, Macedonia.

Moldovia Wallachia became Romania mid 19th century, acquire Transylvania from Hungary after WWI; Hungarians with long memories about this.

Many dog-eared pages.  The episode where he is lost and spends the night in a cave with shepherd-outlaws - seems to take place in a different world, one thinks of Odysseus and the Cyclops.

Etc.  Highly recommended.

Where the Crawdads Sing (Delia Owens, 2018)

(368 pages)

Book club selection (via Emily; session held 23 June 2019).

Marsh Girl survives, thrives in a marshy setting along the Carolina coast.

Highly readable.  Author is interesting - extensive scientific background, a couple nonfiction works to her credit - this is her first novel.

My favorite part of the book - the descriptions of nature as it occurs in these coastal marshlands - this sets the stage right at the beginning of the book.  A bit reminiscent of the Kolyma Stories descriptions.  I don't know much about this part of the world, and apparently the weather is harsher than I realized (one consequence being lots of shipwrecks in the early days).  I also liked the short recitation of the history of the types of folks who settle here - mostly losers, convicts, antisocial folk, escaped slaves.  This element alone made the book worth reading.

The plot line was engaging enough, moved along well, if a bit simplistic.  Protagonist (Kya) was too precious - no school, mom leaves at 6, dad a drunk - yet somehow a poet, artist, naturalist, author, hot chick, able to hide in the marsh - even in the land of novels (where somewhat-too-amazing characters should be, and are, accepted), that was a bit much.  Chase and his girl posse right out of central casting, as were Tate and Scupper and the sheriff's department.  Murder mystery, courtroom drama, of course.

This will be a movie for sure.

Twilight of Empire: The Tragedy at Mayerling and the End of the Habsburgs (King and Wilson, 2017)

(352 pages)

Book club selection (via POC; session held 2 June 2019 (though I was in Virginia so missed it)).

I love reading about this period of history and this part of the world.  But I didn't altogether love this book - the author just was way too focused on the scandal-details surrounding the Mayerling hunting lodge incident - sure it was important in the arc of the monarchy, but it was just one fairly minor episode in the overall story (if titillating). 

I would have liked much more Austria-context, and a lot less Mayerling-minutiae.

Still, the book did provide some insights about the Austrian royalty in its final period.  And in working through various conspiracy theories surrounding the Mayerling incident, the author did get into some of the challenges faced by the empire as the 19th century drew to a close, including divisions among Czechs, Hungarians, and other groups.  It's impressive that the conglomeration hung together as long as it did - I often think it receives more ridicule than it deserves.

Interpreter of Maladies (Jhumpa Lahiri, 1999)

(198 pages)

A collection of nine short stories.  Most concern the experiences of Indians who have emigrated to America; a couple stories are set in India.

I liked it.  Of course we now know several folks from India who are living in the U.S.  I don't know that the stories have any overlap whatsoever with the experiences of folks we know, but in general it's useful to get this perspective.  While the comparison is rather strained (because so much more of the heritage was in common), the book even made me think a bit about 19th-century Luxembourg emigrants to the U.S.

I think my favorite story was the last one - about the Bengali gentleman who took a job in the Boston area, rented a room with a (very) elderly lady, brought over an arranged-marriage wife, and settled in the Northeast U.S.

The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, Volume II (Edward Gibbon, 1776)

(592 pages)

Volume 2 of 3 (Volume 1 addressed here).

I continue to very much enjoy Gibbon's writing (both substance and style).  And it's impressive to consider how well his work has held up after near 250 years.

This volume circles back to consider the conduct of the Roman government towards Christianity starting with Nero, and continues with general overview until just a few years past the final separation of the Eastern and Western empires (364 AD).

As with Volume 1 - much discussion about the various emperors and the way responsibilities were split.  Major characters included Constantine and his sons; Julian (something of a philosopher-warrior, sought to restore paganism).  Battles go on in both east and west; barbarians and adjacent empires or nations get rowdy; successful emperors seem to rise up sufficiently regularly to hold things together reasonably well.  But not always.  Toward the end of this volume - some of the large-scale wars with Persia that contributed to the mutual exhaustion of Rome and Persia prior to the emergence of Islam.

The discussions about Christianity in this context are pretty interesting.  Many elements for Gibbon resonate with this discussion - where the author was focused on the death of Jesus and the few ragtag followers in place at that time - yet Christianity grew into a powerful worldwide institution - how??  Gibbon pretty staunchly (if somewhat covertly, given that he desired to get published) anti-clerical, anti-organized church - so I try to read him with that in mind.

While Christianity clearly was making some strides, so much of it comes back to Constantine.  Like Mohammed (discussed here), Jesus didn't leave behind a comprehensive written roadmap - later generations (in many cases "very" later!) did that - perhaps they were divinely inspired, perhaps other considerations mattered.  Christianity had some maddeningly tricky concepts - main example being how to define the relationship between "three persons in one God" - not addressed in the Gospels or other early writings.  Arians - known forever as "Arian heretics" after 325 - the best-known not-orthodox (as it turned out) variant.  Various groups in various geographies had various interpretations - and they definitely annoyed one another, but some coexistence seemed to be the norm.

But now there is an emperor with minimal theological background but intense interest in getting everyone on the same page - Council of Nicea, 325 - now there's the imperial juice to define heretics, and make life miserable for them.

And with the imposition of a Roman/imperial superstructure for the church - gobs of money at stake - but not for the not-orthodox clergy.  This of course encouraged intense competition for bishoprics.  Venality arises early, it didn't wait until the Reformation - already imperial Rome found it necessary to pass laws preventing "spiritual adviser" priests from taking huge bequests from wealthy Romans (typically female it seems).

Constantine generally revered for legitimizing Christianity's position in the Roman empire, but wow, was the Roman administrative structure really a good thing for Christianity?   Folks occupying what I'll call "offices" in the 4th century church adopted the outlook and mannerisms of the imperial government.  Not to mention, look what attempted enforcement of orthodoxy has achieved.

Gibbon has an interesting discussion about the difference between the church in the east and the west - he describes the westerners as essentially too rude in the sense that they (recent or present barbarians depending on one's viewpoint) lacked a history of parsing theology minutiae, and thus tended to adopt what was put in front of them by the leadership.  In the east - endless energy to fight about nuances of the nature of the Father, Son, Holy Spirit, and so much else.  We end up with various sub-groups within Christianity to this day, all originating from the eastern church.

Julian was an interesting character - not a willing emperor - preferred hanging around as a philosopher in Athens - but became highly effective, including in battle.

Nexus (Ramez Naam, 2012)

(464 pages)

Book club selection (via Lon; session held 28 April 2019).

This wasn't one of my favorite books - lots of action, but rather in an "I (the author) am hoping for a movie deal" sort of way; characters not very credible (though that might be chalked up to the strange drugs they take?)

The book does cause one to think, if just a bit, about how far and how fast we might go in terms of enhancing human intelligence, permitting folks to share their thoughts, etc.

I'm no expert but I think current experiences with "driverless" cars indicates that in our lifetimes, we won't come anywhere near the technologies described in this book.

Author confuses what I consider intellectual horsepower -  compute power - with wisdom.  Folks like Kade, Samantha, the Chinese post-human - had they lived a lot?  read a lot?  learned a lot?  developed judgment and experience to go along with compute power?  Somehow they're supposed to exercise all this power wisely?

Lots of blather about the ecstasy of sharing another's thoughts - what's that about?  Why is it so great?  No real limits on sharing here - yet people have forever exposed themselves gradually to others, for good reason, and often call a halt.  Understanding is a lengthy process. Somehow these wonder drugs are supposed to short-circuit what humans have evolved in terms of communication, and this is great?

I'd say the drones were the coolest tech in the book.

Naivete of the lead characters re dangerous uses of the "nexus 5" drug was unbelievable.

Kolyma Stories (Varlam Shalamov, written between 1954 and 1973)

(734 pages)

I really, really liked this book (actually it's three books - Kolyma Stories; The Left Bank; and The Spade Artist; I decided to read all three in one shot rather than breaking into separate sessions).

Another favorite, highly recommended.  I very much took my time reading it.

Initially I was worried about redundancy with prior reading on the camps in Russia, especially Solzhenitsyn  and/or Primo Levi's wonderful book, or books on the Nazi camps.

But it wasn't redundant.  Shalamov has an entirely unique voice.  I see the Chekhov comparison but wouldn't be able to explain it.  Spare, unsentimental - yet lyrical (perhaps because of this)?  Short story format is not at all my favorite - Shalamov makes it work so beautifully, including in many stories that run just a few pages.  Heartbreaking, often - but not hopeless.

There is never any doubt that Shalamov lived through (more accurately: suffered, survived) that about which he wrote.  A sad life in so many ways, but look what he left us. 15 years in the camps.

Thoughts -

1.  I sometimes wonder "what can I really learn" from stories of humans functioning in such extreme conditions - how can this be instructive, even relevant, to me?  Don't know the answer, maybe I just found the stories here well-written and compelling?  But it feels like more.  Then I think that so much literature is set in more or less extreme settings - whether war or natural disaster or crime or whatever - not sure how to think about this.

2.  I'm not finding much new these days in the stories set in Nazi world.  Perhaps because the canvas there, while fascinating in so many ways, is relatively limited - only a few years in power, then rapid movement in a war setting; smaller geography (fewer remote places); and bad guys that almost feel a bit cartoonish.

3.  In comparison the Soviet canvas goes on for decades, and includes incredibly remote places - where war and political change back in Europe didn't disturb much; where all of those years resulted in interrogators, prison guards, informers, exiles, NKVD types, who in some sense could be considered "regular people" in that continuing society. (Even a longer history if we include the similar behaviors from tsarist times.)

4.  And the setting for Shalamov's stories is even starker because of Kolyma's specific climate - extreme cold so much of the year - and extreme geographic isolation.  And the policy of sustained near-starvation and overwork - specific calorie counts - unfavored prisoners slated for "heavy physical work" only (meaning a quick death sentence).

5.  Shalamov's focus isn't so much on the cruelties of the system (though those are not overlooked), but on the way prisoners - including literary folks like this author - functioned, and tried to survive, at least until giving up.  Entirely unromantic.  Dealing with gangsters - apparently they are organized in every prison.  Political prisoners.  In particular political prisoners with the dreaded "T" (Trotskyist) marked in their file.  Nonpoliticals (such as "ordinary" thieves, rapists, murderers) favored in this world, relatively speaking.

6.  Shalamov excellent with descriptions of the local geography - taiga, dwarf pines, plants/animals - even rivers and streams - struggling against the cold.  Kolyma!  Just look up the city of Magadan (the local metropolis, lying well south of the camps) on a map.

7.  By far the longest story - doesn't even have a plot - recounts the author getting into paramedic training classes - describes individually all the students and teachers - fascinating look, folks from around the huge USSR with unbelievably disparate backgrounds who were selected for a wide variety of more or less understandable reasons.  Initially each is desperate to stay in the program mostly for the incrementally better food.  They weren't in the First Circle, but at least were no longer near the bottom circles.  Getting the paramedic position saved Shalamov's life.

8.  Spouses hoping for the best, but destined for the worst.  Some imagined they could repeat the experience of the famous Decembrist wives, but it was not to be.  Camp bosses knew how to take advantage; visits to the spouse invariably denied.

9.  Of the three books - the first is pretty grim - mostly about life in the camps.  The second was my favorite - broader look - includes transit prisons, interrogation prisons, paramedic world, lots of hospital action.  The third overlapped thematically with the first two to a considerable extent, but then moved on to discuss Shalamov's last days in Kolyma - the releases after Stalin finally died - his lengthy return trip to Moscow - those tales are amazing in their own way.

Go, Went, Gone (Jenny Erpenbeck, 2017)

320 pages

Book club selection (via Zach; session held 17 March 2019).

Newly retired university professor (Richard) - lives alone - spots a group of African asylum-seekers in a Berlin park, and gets involved.

I liked it - author's main goal seems to be humanizing refugees at a time when that isn't always happening.  But she idealizes them a bit as uniformly thoughtful, gentle work-seekers; doesn't explain why they are all working-age men, etc.

Richard lives on a lake and there is a subplot about a person drowning there, an unrecovered body.  I guess it relates to these folks crossing the Mediterranean, too often unsuccessfully.

Richard and his wife (now dead) didn't have a very good relationship, not quite sure how that fit the tale.

Author threads in the East Berlin - West Berlin border, crossings, etc.  Which is an interesting comparison though I don't know that it leads us anywhere.

Some useful points about arbitrary borders, movements of peoples - but nothing much on all the hard questions - what policy should countries be adopting to deal with immigration?  Including what types of special provisions for legitimate asylum seekers?  How to think of sufferers in countries not adjacent to the Mediterranean or other borders - do they count?  How much to help these folks relative to domestic downtrodden in each country?

And:  how many folks can a country, or a given community within a country, absorb without losing the common culture that does underpin communities?  Throughout the book the author is citing things that are distinctively German (or Western or Christian) - Bach, Oedipus, Sundays of Advent, Christmas, Goethe, etc.  Universal human shared values run deeper yes, but the localized stuff is still important.  Often pointed out (not in this book) how Westerners altered cultures they encountered, but . . .

All of this seems much more difficult in Europe than in the US - we are protected by oceans from most random arrivals, don't have as many international borders, have lots of history absorbing immigrants, etc.

The Lost World (Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, 1912)

(178 pages)

Of course the Sherlock Holmes books are quite excellent.  I had rather forgotten about this book - one of just a few by Sir ACD featuring "Professor Challenger" - was reminded of it as our little book club read this book, to which "The Lost World" owes its setting and plenty of plot elements and details.

It's purely a romp; a tale; thoroughly enjoyable.  Four Londoners explore a lost world.

Heinrich Schliemann was considered a bit of a wrecker for his approach in excavating Troy, but he had nothing on these high-spirited fellows. 

Perhaps my favorite scenes are those taking place at the Royal Geographic Society just before and just after the expedition.

Sir ACD can write!

Memoirs (Ulysses S. Grant, published 1885)

(780 pages)

Another book that I had never quite gotten to, despite repeatedly seeing recommendations.  Well worth reading.  Interesting that he came to write this in times of financial trouble (and eventually poor health) well after serving as president.  Of course not a professional writer - but much enjoyed his straightforward style.

Early portion regarding his selection to West Point and his challenges there.  Serves in Mexican War (and is bluntly critical of it); here he is exposed to many folks who he'll serve with or against in the Civil War.  Also doing quartermaster stuff which I suspect was very helpful down the line.  Transferred to the west coast in 1850s and the discussions of San Francisco (financial challenges sound familiar - boom-town cooks getting paid more than high ranking officers) and Oregon were interesting.

He was truly a nobody in military terms - basically out of the army when Civil War breaks out - took on some minor tasks for the army coming out of Illinois and had some value because of education and Mexican experience.

Consistent success leads to a larger role in the West.  Most of my Civil War reading has been weighted toward the war in the east - so it was interesting to read more about the west.  His discussion of the Vicksburg campaign was interesting - gives a sense of the challenges and risks of attacking an entrenched enemy while dealing with rivers, tributaries, flooding.  Great accomplishment that easily could have turned out badly.

As successes continue he takes over Army of the Potomac; the difficulties finishing off the Army of Northern Virginia take the war into 1865.  Grant as the relentless pursuer - Lincoln liked this after a string of too-cautious leaders - constantly calling for immediate pursuit if the enemy line is broken (this part sounded like Napoleon).  Appomattox and Lee's surrender. 

Discussions of interactions with Lincoln.  Candid assessments of many of the generals - Sherman and Sheridan his favorites, he also much liked David Porter (admiral key to Vicksburg and some subsequent campaigns).

He often quotes from orders issued during campaigns - the brevity and clarity is striking - these were handwritten often at night, often when the situation wasn't clear.  Impressive.

Yes it's autobiographical and sometimes you can sense when he's providing details intended to respond to criticism that had surfaced along the way.  But that's OK.

Recommended.