Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

Or at least, that’s what it feels like. Doctors’ offices are slammed, pharmacies are behind, the county has issued a 30-day mask mandate (which some people are grumpy about), and while some of us are on the upswing, others seem to be teetering on the brink of getting sick (with something) again.

Blech.

On the other hand, I sent all of the kids to school today, even though my youngest may have a mild cough; she may also just be clearing her throat in response to the not-so-lovely inversion we’ve got going on, and I just couldn’t bear to keep a child who acts completely well (and may well BE completely well) home. With the house to myself, I managed exercise, laundry, dishes, laundry, a nap, laundry, the library and pharmacy, laundry–are you seeing a theme?–AND I finished a book over lunch. David Almond’s War Is Over caught my eye on a display once upon a time, and it went quickly once I actually started it (because really, 112 or so heavily illustrated pages). Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite the book I was looking for.

War Is Over is labelled historical fiction and takes place during 1918; John’s father is at war, John’s mother works in a factory (which manages to give off both a gothic and an assembly line vibe) making shrapnel shells, and John himself is bewildered by the propaganda telling him that he, too, is at war. The problem is that John, his parents, his classmates, his teacher, and all of the rest of the characters in the book aren’t characters at all; they’re personified ideas/attitudes/beliefs/philosophies. The book isn’t historical fiction, not really–it’s a fable. It feels almost like Almond wanted to create an Animal Farm around the idea of warfare and war propaganda, except that where Animal Farm is magnificently chilling in a spare, single-minded sort of way, War Is Over doesn’t–quite–work. It’s beautifully illustrated and the dream of peace and the best sort of brotherhood is solid, but the questionable accuracy of the occasional detail kept jarring me out of the book’s spell. If you set a book in 1918 and make it about the Great War, it loses the timeless quality of a fable and becomes–what? Magical realism uneasily crossed with historical fiction, perhaps? Only again, with 2-dimensional characters who reminded me of the mouse and the lion with the thorn in its paw–worthy, but having no life outside of how their behavior illustrates a truth. WWI was absolutely a pointless war, and it sowed the seeds for the international tragedy that was WWII, and yet the truth remains that it only takes one group to start a war, and some wars are actually worth fighting. Keeping our humanity and remembering that of our adversaries is essential for good to come out of them, I think, but reality is complex and Almond’s fable just doesn’t quite work for me. I think his mistake was giving it a (nominally) real setting, because it just isn’t true historical fiction; others, however, may feel differently. If you’re looking for a pacifist fable, this might be completely your jam; I’m going to move on to actual historical fiction.