Vladimir Pozner's "The Edge of the Sword" is not just another book about the fall of France. It is one of the great novels of our time. More, there are passages in it which are among the great things in Literature. Pozner takes Frenchmen, a bee keeper, a bargeman, a boxer, a metal-worker—privates in the Army—a Colonel, detective, women. They have one thing in common. They are all getting away from the Germans—they cross the Seine, the Loire. It is a picture of a nation breaking up. Pozner claims no inside dope and yet he gives all the dope. After reading "The Edge of the Sword" you know why, when Paris was evacuated, there were left behind the gas, the electricity and the police.

There is a wonderful scene where the remaining fifteen men of an infantry regiment which had entered Belgium five days before—to leave it three days later—come to a bridge over a river, pitch camp by it and—fish.

"It was pleasant to be there with one hand on the pole, the other resting in the cool grass, watching the bobbing of the float, reflecting harmless gestures which did not imply death—pleasant and restful. They were learning anew the natural use of their hands, of their eyes. And the bridge, standing there intact, was in itself agreeable."

Suddenly there comes up an old man, small and lean. He bellows out "Nation of fishermen! You coldblooded men! Nothing can stir you up, you pikes! The only thing you can get excited about is a stiff Pernod."

They shoo him away and he comes back later, wearing his Sunday best and rows of old ribbons that must have gone back to the war of 1870. His whole body trembled.

"'Do you know what France is, I wonder? The France of Jeanne d'Arc and the Commune!'

"Suddenly he burst out singing in a cracked voice:

'Contre Nous de la tyrannie,

L'etendard sanglant est leve!'

"'The banner of tyranny is waving,' he said, quivering with emotion. 'We've been sold out, betrayed, by the Chouans, by the Cagoulards. The bloody banner waves over France. You've forgotten the soldiers of Valmy!' he screamed in such a piercing voice that the fishermen jumped." 'What do you do at night? You sleep! I meditate. 1789,' he said, ecstatically, 'was a glorious year! And so was 1936. What have you left of all that, you freshwater fishermen? What have you left?'"

The book is filled with passages like this. Another is where the old Colonel and his chauffeur—the Communist "underground" worker—look [unclear: back] on Paris!

"'The two men looked in silence at the city where they had been born, and without knowing their eyes divided it between the two of them. For Colonel Carvin, the gilded glory of the dome of the invalides, the towers of Notre Dame, the gardens of Neuilly and Auteuil, the palaces of the Champs-Elysees, the Opera, and the Bourse, the Madeline and the Sacré-Cœur, which his equals had erected, frequented, admired, sung, delivered to the enemy; for Private Caillol the Bastille and the Republique, Belleville and Menilmontant, the canal Saint-Martin, the Faubourg Sainte-Antoine, the suburbs, the houses without elevators, the stairs without carpets, the basements without lights, the gutters where one plays, the shops where one works, the corners behind doorways where one makes love, the benches where one sleeps; all the joys, all the hardships and the struggles, all the pent-up anger of his comrades, his contemporaries and their children, who had Paris to reconquer."

(Our copy courtesy of Modern Books)

Fall of Paris

"The Fall of Paris" is written by Ilya Ehrenburg, who received the Stalin Prize for his dramatic analysis of the struggle of the French people for peace and security.

The novel begins with the People's Front elections of 1936. For the first time in its history Fascism has received a spontaneous rejection from the people whose ancestors had manned the barricades in the great days of the Commune. We witness a sit-down strike in one of the aircraft factories in Paris. The workers press forward their demands for better wages and hours. The strike spreads like wildfire and becomes overnight a forceful demonstration of the workers' support for the Government. Leon Blum, however, is anxious to assure the employers that strong action will be taken to restore normal conditions, and although the workers gain their immediate objectives they very soon realise that they have been betrayed. It is their government which first proposes "non-intervention" in Spain. Ehrenburg describes particularly well the reception given to their Spanish comrades by the workers of France. But the Spaniards needed more than cheers to help them in their defence of democracy. Aeroplanes, munitions, food, is wanted, but the best that the Spanish delegates can get from the Blum Government is polite refusals. The Spanish drama comes to an end early in 1939. The stage is set for World War No. 2. France enters the war in a state of utter confusion. The ruling class are afraid of civil war. "Communism is the enemy" becomes the slogan of the daily press. They confess openly that they would welcome Hitler rather than have a people's government Workers are arrested by the thousands. Munitions factories are being deprived of their ablest men. Daladier is determined to wage war against his own people first. Meanwhile General de Gaulle has warned against France's shortage of tanks and aircraft, but the general staff simply ignores his warnings. "France," they say, "is protected by the Maginot line, which no power on earth can break." The rest is known to the whole world. Paris falls without a fight. London, Malta, Leningrad and Stalingrad fight back and triumph.

Ilya Ehrenburg has made a supreme contribution to the cause of freedom. He has given a warning that concerns all of us.

Above all things—Unity In the face of Fascist aggression!

Lewis—Last Inspection

Here is a record of cynicism, frustration, despair and hopelessness. It is the story of the Army in England during the two years after Dunkirk. And there is no doubt at all that these short stories, these trivial tales of petty adulteries, boredom and browning off generally do reflect the mood and temper of that time. The author, a young Army officer, points out that "the only deaths in these stories are from Air raids and accidents, the main motif is the rootless life of soldiers having no enemies and always somehow under a shadow.

If you want a picture of what happens to an army inactive when every fibre of its being is crying out for action you have it here in these tales of the British Army in England sitting waiting, while they read in their newspapers every day the story of their comrades of the Red Army fighting the greatest battles in all history.

We Carry On

This collection of modern Russian short stories, "tales of the war" published in 1942) has conviction and spontaneity, combined with the honesty of true experience. It is vigorous and very real. But is it an expression of the nation's temper and outlook? I hope not, for many of the thoughts expressed are short-sighted, petty, and immature in their intense hatred. Hatred of the system and way of life imposed on a nation can be a life-giving impetus to those fighting against it. This aspect is in "We Carry On" largely taken for granted, and far overshadowed by fierce antagonism towards the German people as individuals. "Not human beings, but vile, malicious monsters, savages..." "You cannot defeat an enemy without having learned to hate him from the bottom of your heart." Surely the real enemy is a social system, not a race; the psychology of personal hatred is necessary only when there is no ideology inspiring those who fight. This is certainly not the case with Russians, so that emphasis on vicious anti-Germanium seems false and unjust. Russian soldiers must have a profound belief in the philosophy they defend, and hatred of Fascism—It is a disappointment to find the smaller and ignobler aspect emphasised.

The book, suffers from [unclear: rkiness] and unevenness of style, evidently the result of translation; but achieves a kind of [unclear: gauche] clarity. It makes an interesting record, but scarcely a lasting contribution to literature.