All That

Good-Bye to All That.

By Robert Graves.  A memoir of a British officer serving in a Welsh regiment.  Remarkably funny in spots.  In that British way.  Graves was an odd duck in public school, with the usual buggery there, and joined right up when the Great War started.  Even before the Pals Brigades were started up.  He survives all those years of the war, but in the end his nerves are pretty shot, and take every decent opportunity to get away from the fighting.

But he doesn't cry about it.  And he certainly did his part.  But they knew or learned even then that there is only so much you can be exposed to before cracking.  And that idea has been a constant refrain, in the forefront, ever since.

Oh, and the title?  It's not about the war.  It's a reference to his divorce 10 years AFTER.  Sheesh.  I felt cheated.  AND ROSEBUD WAS HIS SLED.