by Mia Kondogiannis In the introductory paragraph of Timothy Findley’s The Wars, published in 1977, Findley is described as “one of Canada’s most compelling and best-loved writers”. Upon trudging through this odious book, prompted forward only by sheer willpower, I find myself driven to disagree.
The book begins by introducing 19-year-old Robert Ross, a young Canadian in the midst of World War One. He enlists as a soldier following the death of his closest sibling, and experiences first-hand the unimaginable tragedy of the “war to end all wars”. Findley, unfortunately, does hardly any justice to this unforgettable part of human history. This failing has partly to do with Findley’s dry writing style, which creates a significant problem in the development of the plot. It converts Robert, an otherwise complex, changing character, into an unlikeable protagonist with barely any opportunity for growth. In a third-person omniscient perspective, the protagonists’ emotions are described to the reader; in a third-person limited, it is the author’s responsibility to portray these emotions through the actions of the protagonists. Findley falls short in either of these categories, and because of this, Robert is essentially given no personality. His actions, therefore, are passionless and without motive, and he becomes a distant character with no grounds for relativity or feeling. The display, let alone the confrontation, of any emotions is clearly lacking throughout the book. For a story taking place in one of the most trauma-inducing settings of the twentieth century, this was a true mistake. Robert experiences struggle in extreme forms. The trauma he faces manifests in subtle ways, but is never analyzed by himself or the characters around him. The modest political commentary that this book may have possessed - for example, on homosexuality in the early 1900s, or the effects of PTSD - is made negligible because no emotions exist through which the value of the commentary could have been established. This is a disappointing loss for any reader, and it ultimately leads to my negative perspective of the text. The Wars is a book that holds great potential. The sluggish execution was, in the end, what drained its power as a piece of literature. Moving forward, I may be convinced to read another of Findley’s works, simply to observe whether or not the writing style encountered in this book remains the same throughout his career. If I ever manage to scrape up the amount of resolve it will take to open another Timothy Findley novel, it will be Headhunters. But I have far better things to do with my time. RATING: 6/10
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