The battlefield and this religious mission I'm undertaking are in no way suitable for a man of my age, which is in his forties, as my aunt was right to point out. This place is not for a man who deals with words daily and engages in the race of persuasion. It's not a place where one competes with the means of language and persuasion. Instead, it's a place where the competition is a race of blood.

Oh, what have I read? Is it the work that I always expected to say is the greatest, the most complete, or both? Once again, American literature doesn't disappoint me, especially when it comes to war, slavery, and the black race. It's the literature that I'm passionate about reading or what is written about it. They are indeed remarkable. The words about them and from them are always filled with love, hope, and pain, and they bring out the noblest of human emotions.

Female literature once again proves to be wonderful. Truly, women write with delicate and poetic letters that touch the heart and leave pain mixed with hope. Unlike male literature, when it speaks of suffering, it leaves pain mixed with death and the anticipation of suicide.

"Maratsh" is not a traditional novel about war, blood, and bullets. It's one of the few that puts a human under the microscope in extreme and difficult situations. It's a novel about the human soul first and foremost, and what a person experiences in different circumstances. It's a Dostoyevskian novel, characterized by the seeking Christian spirit, the teachings, and the values that Christianity calls for. When the practical experience of humans collides with what they encounter, such as harshness and the fact that it's just words in the Holy Bible and not in the hearts of people themselves.

The novel not only stands against racism but also against human perfection. For where is perfection and how can it be achieved as long as a human is a human? This is the conflict - "Maratsh" - that a person has within himself between religion and the world, between duty and reality, between love and home, wife and family, and betrayal.

If you're expecting to read a novel that talks about war, you're wrong. It's a novel about soldiers - humans - and it always puts you on a fine line between good and evil. You feel that what's happening around you in terms of horror and terror is not the creation of the pen's imagination but things that perhaps you would do if you were raised like these people with humiliation, cowardice, hatred, and worldliness. It makes you sometimes influenced by the rationality of the white man and convinced of his view of the black slave and what he expects from his work, and sometimes makes you identify with the situation of the black slave and ignite the fire of revolution and anger in your heart. Oh, what kind of style can you have, Geraldine, with all this courage and the ability to endure hardships, and the amazing ability to depict pain, torture, blood, poverty, wealth, love of knowledge, culture, the life of books, and books and writers? It's when it chooses to improve the choice of expressions.

It says that it thought heaven was a library. How touching is this expression to my heart and the hearts of those who read it? For which of us doesn't think that heaven is a big library with everything that we ourselves read? It has also found an expression for the disappointments of war and what it causes in terms of destruction, death, and the suicide of the human spirit.

There are many things that I want to say, but they are lost in the midst of my emotional and loving mix for that novel and my rational ability to write. So please forgive me for being drunk with its beauty.

"The world calls such a sacrifice a noble act, but this world won't help me in gathering what war has destroyed and broken."

Now I want to talk about the narrative construction in quick points, but first, I must praise the excellent translation. I think if Geraldine read it, she would be amazed that the translation surpassed the original language in beauty. The writing was very capable of the rigor of the narrative structure and the pacing of the story in a way that kills monotony and boredom that doesn't satisfy or enrich. Also, the titles that were chosen for the chapters of the novel were so beautiful and expressive of the essence of each chapter. And the way of presentation that came was wonderful through intersecting times, just as a soldier really does. In the battlefield in times of leisure, he does nothing but remember the past and his real life. Therefore, the author presented to us the life of the hero in intersection with the events of the war in the form of memories. She was also skilled in adding the psychological dimensions and explaining the goals and ideas specific to each character in the novel. Also, the way of handling in the conversation that took place between Maratsh and his wife added to the novel a pleasure and a way of storytelling that is more than wonderful. The most important and beautiful thing in the novel is that no one tells you, but the characters speak for themselves, and you see the story from two different distances, two different people, and two different perspectives.

If I speak, my words won't be enough. And the best thing to say about that novel to give it its due is to just recommend that you read it and leave you to experience it fully for yourself. And that's all!

"I told him to go, not to cry over our separation. I said I would do my best for the country I love and not shed a tear when he left. But I shed tears when I was alone. I told the girls that we have no right to complain when each of us does our duty. In the end, we will all be happy with what we have done. Those words were just empty words at that time, and they are still empty now. For what happiness is there if it's prepared here in this sad place? And what happiness is there if it's like healing?"

“Am I wrong to suspect that he lives for ideas, that he builds his whole world of them, and that it is you who are left to deal with the practical matters of life?”

I read this book during the grimmest and most distracting circumstances: the 10 days when the world started to shut down due to the coronavirus. Truly, it would have been more fitting to read Brooks’ novel Year of Wonders, the story of a village that voluntarily quarantined itself to halt the progress of the bubonic plague. Like Mr. March - not the month, but the eponymous ‘hero’ of the novel - I drifted in and out of this novel, distracted and feverish from the news. I begin my review with this sense of the reading context to be fair, as I’ve definitely not read it under ideal circumstances. I read it listlessly, dutifully (because of my Pulitzer Prize reading group), but not intently until the final few chapters.

Another caveat: Little Women, the classic book that inspired this story, is a longtime favorite of mine and a book I know well. Unlike Geraldine Brooks, who wondered what happened to Mr. March during the year he was a chaplain in the Civil War - it never really bothered me that Mr. March, the father of the family, was only a shadowy figure in the novel. For various reasons, from commercialism to Victorian ideals and sentiment, Louisa May Alcott used her own family as a model for Little Women but definitely smoothed out the rougher edges. Mr. and Mrs. March are entirely admirable in the novel, although Mrs. March (known as ‘Marmee’) does confide in Jo that she had labored for many years to master her own unruly temper. The March family’s poverty and their high ideals are modeled on the author’s family, but she manages to make poverty seem more edifying than it was in her own insecure upbringing. (For example, the Alcott family moved 22 times before they settled in Orchard House in Concord - the house associated with them.)

My paperback edition of the novel (p. 2006) has an annoying Richard and Judy’s Book Club sticker on the front, but it also contains some interesting supplemental material at the back. The best parts are Geraldine Brooks’ explanations about how Bronson Alcott served as an inspiration for Mr. March in her novel - and how his political beliefs (he was an active abolitionist), his personal habits (he was a vegan from adolescence), his childhood (on a poor Connecticut farm), and his young adulthood (as a peddler in the Southern states) all form the background of the fictional Mr. March and play a role in this story. I knew a bit about Alcott, mostly from visiting Orchard House, but I had completely forgotten about his years in the South before the Civil War. That background is really the starting point for this novel.

The first half of the novel alternates between the past and the present time (approximately 1861, the second year of the war), and we learn about March’s early courtship of Marmee, as well as his brief tenure in the South before the war - and most significantly, his relationship (and uncomfortably lustful interest) with a woman named Grace. Grace, along with Marmee and March himself, is one of the most important characters in the novel. Raised as a glorified ‘house servant’, she is the biological daughter of a former plantation owner named Mr. Clement and his liaison with one of his slaves. Later in the novel, when March ends up in a military hospital in Washington DC, he meets Grace again - this time as the skilled nurse and right-hand woman to Surgeon Hale.

I suspect that it’s probably better to read this novel if you are NOT a mega-fan of Little Women. I don’t think I’m prudish at all, but the first few chapters really were an assault on my sensibilities. Told from March’s first-person point-of-view, the reader is plunged into the real and nasty world of battle and retreat. March - an idealistic abolitionist, but also a committed pacifist - is completely unsuited to be a soldier. As he quickly learns, not only his political beliefs but also his religious ones put him at odds with the soldiers he is supposed to be consoling and ministering to. Before long, March is moved to a new ‘assignment’ within the Army. He is sent to an estate called Oak Landing, which has been leased by a young Illinois attorney named Ethan Canning. Canning is attempting to bring in the cotton crop, with the not-so-willing help of the former slaves of that plantation. March’s best qualities - chiefly his kindness and his sincere interest in the not-quite-emancipated slaves under his care - are given a brief and rather heartbreaking chance to shine. Unfortunately, it ends badly; and like many idealists, March is not psychologically equipped to deal with his own failings, not to mention the collateral damage of war.

There were some aspects of March’s character that really made me uncomfortable, and only in retrospect - after finishing the book - could I appreciate how skillfully the author weaves together the fictional Mr. March, the real person of Branson Alcott, and her considerable historical research into the time period. There is one aspect of the novel that seemed slightly anachronistic, but perhaps I’m wrong. When Marmee questions Grace about the ‘relationship’ between Grace and her husband, she assumes that March is in love with this elegant and capable former slave. Grace replies: ”He loves, perhaps, an idea of me: Africa, liberated. I represent certain things to him, a past he would reshape if he could, a hope of a future he yearns toward.” Later, Grace castigates March for his egoistic belief that he can still be of any use in the ongoing war.

“We have had enough of white people ordering our existence! There are men of my own race more versed in how to fetch and carry than you will ever be. And there are Negro preachers aplenty who know the true language of our souls. A free people must learn to manage its own destiny.... If you sincerely want to help us, go back to Concord and work with your own people. Write sermons that will prepare your neighbors to accept a world where black and white may one day stand as equals.”

I’m not sure that a ‘Grace’ in 1861 would have thought or expressed herself in this way, but it certainly makes a strong ending to the novel - and gives it some contemporary relevance too.

I read this novel as part of the 2020 #mypulitzerstack challenge. 3/12

If you had a deep affection for Little Women during your youthful days, then Brooks's innovative imagining of the life of Mr. March during The Civil War is certain to offer a captivating reading experience.

This exploration delves into the untold story of Mr. March, shedding light on his experiences, struggles, and growth during that tumultuous period.

Brooks's vivid descriptions and engaging narrative bring this character to life in a whole new way.

The book not only provides a unique perspective on The Civil War but also enriches our understanding of the March family and their relationships.

It is a highly recommended read for those who have a soft spot for Little Women and are eager to discover more about the characters and the historical context in which they lived.

Prepare to be transported back in time and沉浸 in the world of Mr. March as you turn the pages of this remarkable book.

I had read this when it was fairly new - and in fact I think it was the first of Brooks' novels that I read.

This re-read was interesting as I'd forgotten more than just the broad strokes of the story. I had only a vague memory of the overall plot, and many of the details had slipped my mind.

Having seen the recent film and therefore spent time contemplating the storyline recently, I found that it was an interesting dovetail. The film had refreshed my memory and given me a new perspective on the story. It was fascinating to see how the film had interpreted the novel and how it had added its own touches.

It makes me want to re-read the original and I enjoyed the focus on Marmee and Mr. March. Their characters were so well-developed in the novel, and I found myself drawn to their storylines. I look forward to re-reading the book and delving deeper into their characters and relationships.

Overall, this re-read has been a great experience, and I'm glad I decided to pick up the book again.

“Who is the brave man--he who feels no fear? If so, then bravery is but a polite term for a mind devoid of rationality and imagination.” Geraldine Brooks poses this thought-provoking question in her novel March.

Historical fiction is a genre that walks a fine line, yet some of the greatest novels in history have fallen into this category. Works like Gone with the Wind, The Pillars of the Earth, and War and Peace are just a few examples. For me, it's a favorite genre.

March (2005) by Geraldine Brooks is set during the American Civil War in 1862. It tells the story of Robert March, the absent father from Louisa May Alcott's Little Women, revealing the events that led to his absence. The novel won the 2006 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction.

Brooks brings the characters to life, flaws and all. March is an idealistic minister and a strong abolitionist. The story begins with a letter he writes to his wife and daughters, quickly transitioning to vivid descriptions of battle and his narrow escape. His guilt over failing to save a dying soldier haunts him.

Brooks doesn't shy away from the brutality of war, injury, and death. She shows how a man of principle like March is tested by fear and the instinct for survival. But it's not just in the war that his values are challenged. In his private life, his wife discovers his love for another woman, a slave.

Despite this, the two are able to move forward, as Marmee realizes her own imperfections. This is the third novel by Brooks that I've read in the past month, and she is truly an outstanding author. While I can't speak for those who have read and loved Little Women, I believe March is well-deserving of the Pulitzer Prize.

This is a truly typical way to commence a review, yet I simply cannot refrain from it. Only a book as abysmal as this could have ultimately compelled me to pen a review. It's not as if this is the absolute worst book I've ever perused; undoubtedly, there are far inferior ones. However, Geraldine Brooks had a rather decent track record until this! What on earth is this? At best, it's fan fiction. Which might have been cool if, for instance, it wasn't crafted by a Pulitzer Prize-winning author and didn't thoroughly besmirch the beloved fictional March family. Mr. March's character is a whiny, annoying, cheating, sanctimonious prick who is completely patronizing towards his strong and intelligent wife. I longed to shout "grow a pair" throughout the book at both of them. And that's just regarding the March character. Never mind that the entire narrative is as coherent as an Alzheimer patient's dinner order.... Gah! I completed the book solely desiring to know how this fiasco could possibly conclude, and it finally did with March reluctantly returning home while still relishing his sad woe for a former slave while playing with his daughters. Yes, that's precisely how I wanted to remember "Little Women."

It's truly a disappointment that such a talented author could produce something of this caliber. The book fails to live up to the expectations set by her previous works and the cherished source material. One can only hope that future endeavors by Geraldine Brooks will be more in line with her former glory and not mar the memories of beloved literary characters.

March is a complex and thought-provoking novel that offers a unique perspective on a beloved literary family.

Reading about March from his own point of view was a challenging experience. It evoked a range of emotions in me, from discomfort and sadness to anger and indignation.

The author did an excellent job of fleshing out March's character, giving him a history and personality of his own. However, some of his actions and decisions left me feeling conflicted.

On one hand, I loved the writing style, the warrior-like personality of March, and the brief appearances of the March sisters. The descriptions and scenarios were also well done.

On the other hand, there were things that I disliked, such as certain infidelities and exaggerated characterizations.

Despite its flaws, March is a good novel that offers a different take on the world of Little Women. It's not a happy-go-lucky story like Alcott's original, but rather a more realistic and gritty portrayal of war and its consequences.

I would recommend this novel to any fan of Little Women or anyone interested in reading about the American Civil War. It's a must-read for those who want to explore the backstory of the March family and gain a deeper understanding of their lives and relationships.

(Reseña un poco más completa en La Loca de los Libros.)

This book is truly outstandingly written.

In that regard, it is an absolute delight to read. It offers a distinct perspective on Little Women, specifically from Mr. March's point of view.

It serves as a remarkable anti-war and anti-slavery book. There are numerous excellent quotes scattered throughout the book, which not only add depth but also make it a thought-provoking read.

Undoubtedly, it is a book that delves deep into the realm of faith, exploring its various aspects and how it shapes the characters and their lives.

Overall, this book is a must-read for those who appreciate well-crafted literature that combines a unique perspective with important themes.

This was truly an enjoyable read, presenting another side of that beloved family introduced in Louisa May Alcott's Little Women. In Alcott's book, Mr. March is off at war and is only briefly mentioned, yet he is constantly on everyone's mind. However, in Brook's book, he takes center stage as the main character. As readers, we become like shoulder angels, accompanying him on his arduous ride through the Civil War and all its traumatic experiences.

The backstory of his relationship with Marmee and his girls is provided, along with the reason for his decision to head out to war despite his age and profession, which could have given him ample reason to stay home and contribute to the war efforts from a more comfortable position.

I really enjoyed how the story was turned inside-out, allowing us to see the Civil War from multiple perspectives. There's the abolitionist, the preacher in need of preaching, the white man working side by side with blacks, especially the woman he loves, the family man who is everywhere but with his family, and the hard worker whose measure falls short when judged by traditional means of supporting his family. I particularly appreciated the end, where Marmee's frustrations are aired, showing how she was fighting and perceiving her own battles while he was off having experiences worthy of a book. It seems that one of the big points, presented almost as an "oh-by-the-way," is how Mr. March completely misinterpreted Mrs. March's inner thoughts and feelings about his going to war - something that a real, honest conversation could have easily revealed. I truly hope that one day Mrs. March gets a book of her own.

This might just be my favorite of Geraldine Brooks's books so far!

4 stars.

2013 Review!

I can't believe people are reading this!

I HATE this book. Words to describe it: cliched, boring, drudgery, trite, maudlin, syrupy, and just plain BAD, BAD, BAD.

I had been struggling to read this book for the last 3 months. It's a Pulitzer Prize winner, right? Critics liked it, right? People who love the novel "Little Women" and the movies based on that book should love this novel, right?

Think again.

It's pretty boring. I can't say anything more than that, except it is boring and not sustaining.

I'm a glutton for punishment. A masochist when it comes to reading books, and I'll even finish bad ones like Arthur Phillips' "The Song is You" which bored me to tears as well. The good reader in me wants to be the one who finishes everything they start and then forms an opinion after. Well, my opinion was formed well before I got into the first third.

So tonight, I actually left the book on my front porch. I went inside, and an hour later, came back outside only to see it soaking wet. We had a downpour. The rain completely destroyed the book. Oh well. Must have been a sign from heavens above to stop reading this piece of boredom and utter nonsense. I couldn't take it.

Mr. March cheating on Marmee? Marmee a spitfire? Sheesh. Poor Louisa May Alcott - she must be rolling in her grave that Mr. March actually cheated on her beloved Marmee....but that's fan fiction for you. I am definitely not a fan.

This book has failed to engage me from the very beginning. The story seems to lack depth and originality. The characters are not well-developed, and the plot is predictable. It's a real disappointment considering its supposed literary merits. I would not recommend this book to anyone.

The perfect example of how to beat "borrow" from a classic is truly remarkable. It's not just a simple retelling that always invites comparisons. Instead, it's a masterful reworking that transforms the original into an entirely different story. It fills in the missing piece of the narrative, serving as a highly rewarding companion piece.

At first, I had my reservations about the ending. However, after some deep thought, I came to greatly appreciate it for its unwavering honesty. "March" is an incredibly compelling read. There are moments of intense suspense, and the words are always honest and raw. Brooks doesn't shy away from proficiently conveying the horrors of slavery and war to the reader.

Another aspect that I found highly beneficial was her decision to switch about a quarter or less of the narrative from Mr. March to Mrs. March. This was executed extremely well and provided readers with a refreshing insight into how the couple viewed the same situations in completely different ways. It's no wonder that this book is a deserved Pulitzer Prize winner!

I liked the premise of this book well enough. However, overall, it falls short mainly because of the characterisation of the March family patriarch. He is extremely pious, and his character arc is truly boring. In comparison, the preachy nature of "Little Women" functions effectively because at its core, it is about the familial relationships and the personal growth of the sisters. "March" is the origin story of their father, who, for me, is generally an unlikable protagonist.

March was most enjoyable during the crossover chapters when we were able to get inside Marmee's head and view the family's hardships from her perspective. I believe this would have made a better novel and a more interesting counterpoint to Jo's point of view.

Honestly, this book gave the impression of being a bit superfluous. Did we really need to obtain the male perspective on "Little Women"? The answer is no. We did not. I would rate this book 2.5 stars.