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regshoeI've been neglecting the Hornung read-through for a while, but I just don't want it to end!
Notes of a Camp-Follower on the Western Front (1919) is Hornung's second-to-last published book and his only long work of non-fiction; it's his account of the time he spent as a volunteer with the YMCA in France during the later years of the First World War, helping to run a canteen and then a library for soldiers and observing life behind the Line. He writes just as the war is ending—early on in the book he anticipates the war still being on the next winter, and appears in the last chapter to have only just heard the news of Armistice—so it's really history as it was happening.
As men of his time go, some of Hornung's views and opinions, as expressed in his books, are pretty decent; others are not, and his opinions about war have aged especially poorly. In a way, the knowledge that his enthusiastic, jingoistic view of the glories of war is so at odds with how the events he's writing about have been remembered by history was more weirdly dissonant than my own disagreement with it; evidently it was a popular view at the time, and of course similar attitudes have survived perfectly well in general, but this particular view of things seems a strange piece of history. Mind you, there is this from his Wikipedia page (citing Andrew Lycett's biography of ACD):
Anyway, what about the actual substance of the book? Hornung spends some chapters describing daily life as seen while serving hot cocoa and cigarettes to the men fighting in the trenches, painting with his usual deft prose portraits of types and individuals—he's charming about the Scottish soldiers who formed a large part of his hut's customers, and many memorable characters make appearances, most brief and all anonymous. There's a very affecting chapter in which Hornung recounts a visit to the grave of his son Oscar, who had been killed in Flanders a couple of years earlier—his skill at elegantly writing around things is devastating when used to avoid saying outright that it is his own son he's talking about, and while describing without describing his emotion.
But the most enjoyable part of the book is Hornung's account of the library—called the Rest Hut—which he set up and ran throughout its brief existence. He retails his troubles acquiring the books; his painstaking efforts to organise them and develop a system for their lending; the trepidation of the library's opening, when he's not sure how it will be received or appreciated; the great reception and appreciation it gets from the soldiers. We hear about the soldiers' literary tastes, highly varied and sometimes surprising Hornung with their intellectual sophistication; he goes into some detail on popular books and authors, in which number I was pleased to see Robert Louis Stevenson amongst various familiar names, and is charmingly self-deprecating about his own books and their fate in the library. Sadly the Rest Hut only lasted a few months before the German advance of early 1918 obliged the YMCA to evacuate the area; but it was clearly a very worthwhile piece of work, and perfectly suited to Hornung.
This was the last book Hornung published during his life—he died just two years later—and the one more published posthumously, Old Offenders and a Few Old Scores, appears to have been largely written earlier; so this is the end, in a way. Perhaps it's fitting that he, after writing so engagingly and enjoyably of fictional adventures for so many years, got to recount in his last book some real adventures of his own. Despite the dodgy moral politics, it was very much worth reading.
Notes of a Camp-Follower on the Western Front (1919) is Hornung's second-to-last published book and his only long work of non-fiction; it's his account of the time he spent as a volunteer with the YMCA in France during the later years of the First World War, helping to run a canteen and then a library for soldiers and observing life behind the Line. He writes just as the war is ending—early on in the book he anticipates the war still being on the next winter, and appears in the last chapter to have only just heard the news of Armistice—so it's really history as it was happening.
As men of his time go, some of Hornung's views and opinions, as expressed in his books, are pretty decent; others are not, and his opinions about war have aged especially poorly. In a way, the knowledge that his enthusiastic, jingoistic view of the glories of war is so at odds with how the events he's writing about have been remembered by history was more weirdly dissonant than my own disagreement with it; evidently it was a popular view at the time, and of course similar attitudes have survived perfectly well in general, but this particular view of things seems a strange piece of history. Mind you, there is this from his Wikipedia page (citing Andrew Lycett's biography of ACD):
Hornung was concerned about support for pacifism among troops, and wrote to his wife about it. When she spoke to Doyle about the matter, rather than discussing it with Hornung he informed the military authorities. Hornung was angered by Doyle's action, and "told him there was no need for him to 'butt in' except for his own 'satisfaction'." Relations between the two men were strained as a result....so, this book's remarks about pacifism notwithstanding, he was certainly more decent than he could have been!
Anyway, what about the actual substance of the book? Hornung spends some chapters describing daily life as seen while serving hot cocoa and cigarettes to the men fighting in the trenches, painting with his usual deft prose portraits of types and individuals—he's charming about the Scottish soldiers who formed a large part of his hut's customers, and many memorable characters make appearances, most brief and all anonymous. There's a very affecting chapter in which Hornung recounts a visit to the grave of his son Oscar, who had been killed in Flanders a couple of years earlier—his skill at elegantly writing around things is devastating when used to avoid saying outright that it is his own son he's talking about, and while describing without describing his emotion.
But the most enjoyable part of the book is Hornung's account of the library—called the Rest Hut—which he set up and ran throughout its brief existence. He retails his troubles acquiring the books; his painstaking efforts to organise them and develop a system for their lending; the trepidation of the library's opening, when he's not sure how it will be received or appreciated; the great reception and appreciation it gets from the soldiers. We hear about the soldiers' literary tastes, highly varied and sometimes surprising Hornung with their intellectual sophistication; he goes into some detail on popular books and authors, in which number I was pleased to see Robert Louis Stevenson amongst various familiar names, and is charmingly self-deprecating about his own books and their fate in the library. Sadly the Rest Hut only lasted a few months before the German advance of early 1918 obliged the YMCA to evacuate the area; but it was clearly a very worthwhile piece of work, and perfectly suited to Hornung.
This was the last book Hornung published during his life—he died just two years later—and the one more published posthumously, Old Offenders and a Few Old Scores, appears to have been largely written earlier; so this is the end, in a way. Perhaps it's fitting that he, after writing so engagingly and enjoyably of fictional adventures for so many years, got to recount in his last book some real adventures of his own. Despite the dodgy moral politics, it was very much worth reading.
no subject
Date: Oct. 11th, 2022 02:20 am (UTC)I also enjoyed the fact that Hornung noted every time he met a handsome soldier, and he met a lot of handsome soldiers. Ah, Hornung, never change.
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Date: Oct. 11th, 2022 05:50 pm (UTC)I also enjoyed the fact that Hornung noted every time he met a handsome soldier, and he met a lot of handsome soldiers. Ah, Hornung, never change.
Hee, yes indeed :D
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Date: Oct. 11th, 2022 06:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Oct. 11th, 2022 06:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Oct. 11th, 2022 07:29 pm (UTC)This does sound interesting. I see that Project Gutenberg has a copy.
https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/37331
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Date: Oct. 12th, 2022 04:16 pm (UTC)