All wars were bad.

Those that undertook daily operations of burning and bombing large numbers of women and children were bad. The act of relocating populations, which destroyed the root of a rich peasant lore, also made wars bad. Wars that had no line of battle or discernible climax were bad too. This is an advanced notion that supposes wars may be in part good as they are sometimes the only way to define critical conditions rather than blur them.

Certainly, all wars that took some of the bravest young men of a nation and sent them into combat with outrageous superiority and outrageous arguments were bad. Such conditions of combat were bound to excite a secret passion for hunting other humans. Any war that required an inability to reason as the price of retaining one’s patriotism was a bad war. Finally, any war that offered no prospect of improving itself, considering how complex and compromised its roots were, was a bad war.

These are the various aspects that highlight the inherent badness of wars and make us reflect on the true nature and consequences of armed conflicts.

P. 185

I made up my mind to bring this book along when I traveled to DC and NY during my spring break.

Mailer, the protagonist of this fictionalized historical work, is a New Yorker. He went to DC for a March on the Pentagon in October 1967.

Mailer offers numerous insights and discloses many of his own human flaws. Nevertheless, it was a captivating historical moment, and he moved in elite literary and leftist anti-war circles, so there is a great deal of interest within these pages.

Surprisingly, it took me more time than I had anticipated to read this rather short book.

Perhaps it was because the story was so rich and detailed, or maybe it was because I was constantly stopping to reflect on the historical context and the significance of Mailer's actions.

Either way, I'm glad I took the time to read it, and I look forward to exploring more of Mailer's works in the future.

Self-absorbed drivel? Torturous sentences? Masochists only?

Well, let's take a closer look. Self-absorbed drivel might refer to writing that is overly focused on the author's own thoughts and feelings, without much regard for the reader. It could be filled with unnecessary details and self-indulgence.

Torturous sentences, on the other hand, might be those that are overly complex, convoluted, or difficult to understand. They might require the reader to spend a lot of time and effort trying to figure out what the author is trying to say.

But does this mean that only masochists would read such writing? Not necessarily. Some people might enjoy the challenge of deciphering difficult sentences or exploring the inner workings of an author's mind.

In the end, it all comes down to personal preference. Some people prefer simple, straightforward writing that gets to the point quickly. Others enjoy more complex and thought-provoking pieces.

So, while self-absorbed drivel and torturous sentences might not be to everyone's taste, there is still a place for them in the world of literature.

Desde la publicación de Los desnudos y los muertos (1948), NM (1923-2007) tuvo que convivir con la fama y el reconocimiento.

Como un cultor de la novela de no ficción a la manera de Truman Capote, incorporó aspectos del relato periodístico en su obra.

Recibió innumerables reconocimientos y es considerado uno de los principales escritores norteamericanos.

Esta obra es un relato documental de la célebre marcha sobre el Pentágono en 1967. También es, en parte, la autobiografía del escritor y protagonista.

Trata con magistral imparcialidad un periodo clave de la cultura norteamericana marcado por la violencia política y la polarización.

En el centro, la lucha entre los valores tradicionales de la sociedad americana y la contracultura de la izquierda radical.

La izquierda tradicional y las nuevas fuerzas, como los hippies, feministas, cristianos pacifistas y activistas de causas marginales.

Se refleja con gran profundidad el desquiciamiento y el idealismo que impulsan a los manifestantes.

NM logró crear una obra que no solo relata un evento histórico, sino que también muestra la complejidad y la diversidad de la sociedad norteamericana en aquel momento.

Su estilo único y su capacidad para capturar la esencia de la época lo han convertido en un autor icónico de la literatura norteamericana.

In this nonfiction novel, Mailer presents the Mailer character in a rather unflattering light. The Mailer character, not to be confused with the real, more cunning Mailer, is portrayed as a scowling, self-important drunk. His main pursuit seems to be wallowing in whiskey and basking in public adulation.

Mailer admits that his participation in the 1967 March on the Pentagon is a reluctant concession to his moral stance against the Vietnam War. He would much rather have engaged in such discussions in the company of like-minded aesthetes at exclusive cocktail parties. However, he attends the march and directs his contempt in all directions. He scorns comfortable liberal academics, hawkish conservatives, the United States itself, the young, the old, and radicals. In fact, he reserves praise only for those who are skeptical of him, seeing through his veneer of intellectual superiority to the crass, angry, and disturbed man within.

The "novel as history" is then followed by 50 pages of "history as novel," which offers a relatively dry review of the various accounts of the March on the Pentagon. It delves into the fractious liberals, the celebration and defiling of conservative power, all presented from a dozen different and often incompatible perspectives. Mailer emphasizes the point that no retelling of the events of 1967 can or will be completely objective or factually reliable. This is why he presents his "novel as history" and creates his brash anti-hero. While it may seem that Mailer's bombast is tempered by his self-criticism, this is not entirely accurate. By making himself into a celebrity curmudgeon, he is both celebrating his own flaws and those of his political allies and enemies. Somehow, despite the obvious subjectivity, or perhaps because of it, his novel manages to convey a sense of truth.

Mailer was a confident figure, yet there were moments when he hinted at a lack of absolute certainty. Like everyone, there were aspects that lay beyond his emotional or intellectual domains of proficiency. Another common limitation he shared with others was his inability to be omnipresent, a constraint that perhaps wasn't entirely regrettable, as his former wives could attest.

His writing was truly remarkable. It was witty, journalistic, and of high tensile strength. It was unlike anything one could easily envision, and in the end, it managed to delve into the psychological composition of America half a century ago (or perhaps even now) in a bold and yet fitting manner. Additionally, there was a comical routine at the outset, where he presented himself as a drunken intellectual good-for-nothing, which had me chuckling out loud in a public setting. (I happened to be donating blood at the time, if you're curious. I'm not sure if this holds any symbolic significance.)

This account of a demonstration during the Vietnam War, presented in the third person, offers a unique perspective on Mailer and his work. It showcases his complex personality and the power of his writing to capture the essence of a particular era and its people.

Mailer's writing style in this book is extremely fast-paced, and it effortlessly pulled me through the first section.

It's quite evident how Mailer's work has been likened to Truman Capote's In Cold Blood. Capote's work was the pioneer of the non-fiction novel, while Mailer has crafted an early instance of historical and fictional journalism here, seemingly merging the novel style with reporting.

The book appears to be divided into two sections. In "History As A Novel," Mailer employs the third person to depict his own experience of participating in an anti-Vietnam war rally. By doing so, Mailer himself becomes an integral part of the subject matter, just like the march he took part in.

In the second section, "The Novel As History," the pace slows down. However, it's not due to the subject matter being less engaging. Instead, Mailer zeroes in on the historical perspective of the march. He delves into why it occurred, who was involved, and then describes the march as it might have been witnessed by an unbiased reporter.

Overall, it was an interesting read, and Mailer's opinionated voice is constantly intertwined with the subject matter. I was particularly intrigued by the self-awareness Mailer managed to convey through writing in the third person. Since this approach enabled him to step outside of himself and observe, he fully exploited this potential.

The story could've been interesting,

but unfortunately, I found the writing style to be extremely tedious.

The sentences were long and convoluted, making it a real struggle to get through each paragraph.

I just couldn't seem to maintain my focus or interest.

As a result, I didn't even finish reading the entire piece.

It's a shame because the premise had potential, but the execution left a lot to be desired.

Maybe with a different writing approach, it could have been a more engaging and enjoyable read.

However, as it stands, it simply didn't hold my attention long enough for me to give it a fair chance.

I hope the author will consider revising the writing to make it more accessible and captivating for future readers.

It was a fine day.

There were certain passages within the text that I found either funny or enlightening. However, overall, it seemed a bit too much like a chore for me to complete.

Perhaps it was simply not what I was in the mood for at that moment. Most likely, it had a great deal to do with the fact that I had to look up people and places every ten minutes.

This is entirely my fault for being a bit lacking in historical knowledge.

Nonetheless, I did manage to learn quite a substantial amount, which in itself made the read worthwhile.

However, I did not feel particularly "moved" in any sense, and I found this rather disappointing.

Mailer has this tendency where he employs double negatives very frequently, often to an extent that is far too excessive for my personal taste.

Phrases like "She was not unattractive", "He was not unhappy", "It was not unlike the time..." and so on.

I understand the concept, truly I do. But it became so overused that it made me want to figuratively punch him.

I've had the opportunity to read four of Mailer's books. Among them, two truly captured my heart and I absolutely loved them. However, the other two failed to make the same impact on me. In fact, this particular one falls into the latter category. I just couldn't engage with it one jot.

It seems that Mailer's writing style can be quite polarizing. While some of his works are masterpieces that draw the reader in and keep them hooked until the very end, others seem to lack that certain something that makes a book truly captivating.

Maybe it's the subject matter, or perhaps it's the way he presents his ideas. Whatever the reason, this book simply didn't resonate with me. I found myself constantly losing interest and having to force myself to keep reading.

Despite this, I still appreciate Mailer's talent as a writer and I look forward to exploring more of his works in the future. Maybe I'll discover another hidden gem among his books that will become one of my all-time favorites.

The hell? What a lot of pompous drivel!

It's truly astonishing to encounter such a barrage of self-important nonsense.

Now I understand precisely why I have never bothered to read any of Mailer's works before.

He comes across as a total narcissist, completely absorbed in his own ego and self-aggrandizement.

Not only that, but his writing is also dreadfully boring.

There is no substance, no real depth or meaning.

It's just a lot of empty words strung together in an attempt to sound profound.

I can't imagine how anyone could find this kind of writing engaging or interesting.

It's a waste of time and energy.

I'll stick to reading authors who have something worthwhile to say and who can express themselves in a captivating and meaningful way.

Mailer, it seems, is not one of them.

Norman Mailer's auto-historical docu-drama, which chronicles the days surrounding the March on the Pentagon in the fall of 1967, endeavors to structure the narrative in the style of a literary novel.

This is achieved through the employment of character development, internal dialog, and the vivid portrayal of unfolding events.

It offers a first-person account of the captivating inner workings of a mass demonstration and provides an exciting front-row seat to the live action of organized civil disobedience.

The details remain prominent and sanguine, although the emotional connection has been somewhat diminished by the passage of time. So much has occurred on the national stage in the intervening years that the story seems almost quaint in comparison to more recent events.

Nevertheless, there are valuable lessons to be gleaned from the author's reflections on the causes and contexts of the times. The writing leans more towards the literary than the journalistic. The depth of psychological exploration implies that the narrative is not light or breezy. I wouldn't describe it as an easy read. Even the language will pose a challenge to the reader (which perhaps reveals more about the decline of today's average vocabulary than it does about the publisher's expectations of the contemporary audience). However, the reader is likely to learn something about herself in the process of untangling this particular moment in time.