This book, brilliantly translated, is a treasure of treasures. Robert Musil's "The Man Without Qualities," from an ironic, intellectual and dispassionate viewpoint, called into question a broad range of our unconscious conventional assumptions about society and reality. "Remembrance of Things Past" brought personal experience under the lens of Marcel Proust's delicate and evocative aesthetic microscope--again, from the point of view of a detached observer. Roger Martin du Gard, using Lieutenant-Colonel de Maumort as his vehicle, is the ultimate participant in life and his examinations and judgments of his actions are honest and unsparing. Reading "Lieutenant-Colonel de Maumort", narrated with elegance and sobriety, was for me a cataclysmic, relentless and successful assault on many of the complacent assumptions about my "sense of self". The fortitude required of the reader to remain open to Maumort's(du Gard's) courageous exploration of the totality of his own life is repaid many times over. This is not a novel in any conventional sense. It is an experience.

A great book. This engrossing fictional memoir spans the time from the idyll of rural France in the late nineteenth century to the brilliant salons of fin-de-siecle Paris to the horrors of two world wars, probably the greatest period of change in the history of mankind. The witness to this epoch and to his own internal and external development is the narrator, Lt.-Col. de Maumort. He has the best opportunities and teachers his era can offer, and he strives to evolve and to follow his conscience in a world in which conscience matters little. (The exploration of the step-by-step justification of fascism provided to Maumort by occupying Nazi officers, also men of education and cultivation, is a novel in itself, and unlike any other representation of the subject of how seemingly decent people rationalize evil). The story has a wonderful momentum. Unlike most memoirs, fictional and otherwise, which tend always to be self-serving, this one returns again and again to the truth, baring all of the failures, self-betrayals, and contradictions of a life. No wonder Martin du Gard didn't want this to appear in his lifetime. Though the book on the surface appears to be the recollections of a military man walled up in his library while German soldiers occupy his estate in northern France, in fact it's a universal testament about what it is to be human--the best of contemporary fiction, in which every moment comes alive. The translation is superb--far more accurate, literary, and sensitive than the sometimes muddled one of the new Modern Library edition of "The Charterhouse of Parma." This is a book to treasure and reread. The "Black Box" section at the end is an extraodinary bonus: the author, a man apparently very like Maumort, in dialogue with himself through a series of memorable apercus.

I was hooked early in this amazingly ambitious novel by a lovely metaphor where the narrator Maumort compares the way our early memories follow one another to the fish that came each morning out of the lake on lines that he and his sister had set the evening before. Yet memory is only part of the story, as Maumort, a career army officer, is also in thrall to matters abstract, in love with ideas, theories, analysis--all that intellectualising that we Americans love to have the French do for us. However all that cerebration also serves du Gard in developing his characterisation of the Lt Colonel himself, a man determined to understand himself and his society. That such an ambitious story reads so fluidly and fluently is a testimony to both du Gard's and his two translators' splendid prose. Midway in the novel is is a cinematically rendered and unsparing account of a tragic seduction that utterly establishes du Gard's gifts as a novelist, and which by itself might justify the entire novel, were there not so much more here: the marvellously canny portraits of character after character who Maumort encountered in his life, the unflinching account of human sexuality (especially early male sexual experience), the lavishly detailed picture of French society, and as already mentioned, no shortage of food for thought. All this capped by a poignant and powerful moment of dark paralysis towards the close, as the aged Colonel, having just reclaimed his beloved rural estate from its Nazi occupiers, takes one last look back at a relentlessly examined life.