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“The world has a great writer in Erich Maria Remarque. He is a craftsman of unquestionably first rank, a man who can bend language to his will. Whether he writes of men or of inanimate nature, his touch is sensitive, firm, and sure.”―The New York Times Book Review

Introduction 7
Biographical Sketch 9
The Story Behind the Story 17
List of Characters 20
Summary and Analysis 23
Critical Views 52
Brian Murdoch on All Quiet on the Western Front as a Weimar Antiwar Novel 52
Brian Murdoch on Remarque and Homer 57
A.F. Bance on the Novel's Best-seller Status 63
Chris Daley on the Force of Silence in All Quiet on the Western Front 68
Hildegard Emmel on All Quiet on the Western Front as a Weimar Novel 71
Vita Fortunati on the Representation of World War I in Hemingway, Remarque, and Ford Madox Ford 75
Dorothy B. Jones on the Film Version of the Novel 79
Helmut Liedloff on A Farewell to Arms and All Quiet on the Western Front 83
Alfredo Bonadeo on Paul Baumer's Relationship to German Culture 87
Modris Eksteins on the Novel as a Postwar Commentary 92
Hans Wagener on the Final Chapter of All Quiet on the Western Front 96
Robert Baird on Hollywood's Ambivalence to World War I Novels 100
Wilhelm J. Schwarz on Remarque's Memorial to the Unknown Soldier 105
Works Erich Maria Remarque 110
Annotated Bibliography 111
Contributors 120
Acknowledgments 123
Index 125

Introduction by Norman Stone

For some years after the end of the First World War the memoirs of generals and statesmen dominated publication about it ？ none more prominently than Churchill’s great classic, The World Crisis (1923). Then, quite suddenly, ten years down the line, came the other side, the horror, the view from below. The British had lost almost a million men dead, the French over a million, and the Germans nearly two, mainly on the Western Front, where thousands of guns churned up the mud. War cripples hobbled the streets of Berlin, and are recorded in the bitter Twenties paintings of Georg Grosz and Otto Dix. Writers followed ？ in Great Britain, amongst the earliest books were Richard Aldington’s novel Death of a Hero (1929) and Robert Graves’s memoir Goodbye to All That (1929), the most famous of them all. I was given it as a Christmas present when I was fifteen and read it at a session. At the time, the mid- Fifties, there were men around, not even sixty, who had gone through the Western Front but you could never get them to talk about it. British critics did not attack ‘the system’, they tended to dwell on the incompetence of the generals. The French had a rather similar experience, in that the from-below story of 1914-18 surfaced with Louis-Ferdinand Celine’s Voyage au bout de la nuit (1932), which is brilliant black farce. Celine, who had volunteered in 1912, entered the War with the usual young man’s patriotism, and was badly maimed at an early stage; and he made a mockery of the whole business. But there is not really any French, let alone British or American, equivalent of the bitterness and edge that went into the paintings of Dix and Grosz. Two films come the closest ？ Oh! What a Lovely War (1969) which started off as a musical (1963) by Joan Littlewood based on the songs of the poor bloody infantry, and Stanley Kubrick’s Paths of Glory (1957). On the literary side, the German Erich Maria Remarque’s All Quiet on the Western Front (1929) is in a class of its own. It appeared not long before the Wall Street Crash started a process that was soon to give Germany eight million unemployed, and the Chancellorship of Adolf Hitler. Not just the Nazis banned it; so did the Lord Mayor of Cologne, Konrad Adenauer, a Centre Party Catholic and later first Chancellor of West Germany. Official Germany would not accept any responsibility for the War. In 1923 the legal scholar Hermann Kantorowicz put in a memorandum to the Reichstag ‘War Guilt’ committee, showing that three quarters of the published documents from 1914 were false, and even the ‘good German’ Gustav Stresemann tried to stop him from getting a Chair, and suppressed the report.

This is all understandable, because Germany did face a war indemnity, ‘reparations’, designed to cripple her for two generations, and to suggest that she had caused the War counted as treachery. But so did criticism of the army (and the fourteen-volume official history, besides being incomplete, was almost free of it). Exposing the reality was left to a writer such as Remarque.

For Germans the War had ended in defeat and disillusion. It had been a four-year epic of sacrifice, and there had been spectacular successes, from the capture of Russian Poland in 1915 through Caporetto in 1917, when the Italian front imploded, to the March Offensive of 1918, which destroyed the British Fifth Army. German generals had a panache lacking on the Allied side, almost to the end, and it is notable in All Quiet on the Western Front that there is very little criticism or mockery of generals, let alone officers, who come off well ？ understanding and humane. The Germans shot far fewer of their own men than did the British. When the armistice happened, attempts were made to imitate the Russian Revolution in which Soldiers’ Councils had challenged the authority of their officers. Far from being revolutionary, the German Soldiers’ Councils voted for Generalfeldmarschall von Hindenburg to be their overall president (he declined). Even so, some 25,000 German prisoners of war did join the Red Army. The end of the War saw bitter political recriminations: the Left blamed the Right for starting it, and the Right blamed the Left for stopping it, for giving the fighting troops a ‘stab in the back’. This civil war was always latent in the Weimar Republic, and it flared up again when the Wall Street Crash ended properly democratic government (in 1930: thereafter governments ruled by emergency decree). The civil war culminated in the victory, in 1933, of the Nazis. It also resulted in the emigration of Erich Maria Remarque. All Quiet was one of the Nazis’ burned books.

Remarque was not a Communist or even, it seems, anything much. He was born (1898) into a skilled working-class family in Osnabruck, his father a printer, and attended Catholic schools. When he turned eighteen, in 1916, he was conscripted, and after some basic training (All Quiet is biting about that; the sadistic Corporal Himmelstoss is an archetype of military memoirs, where bright young men encounter maniacal and petty disciplinarians) he was drafted to Flanders. The British Offensive ？ we know it as Passchendaele, from the village the capture of which, after 400,000 casualties, allowed victory to be absurdly declared ？ was about to start, and Remarque was badly wounded on its first day, 31 July 1917, spending much of the rest of the War in hospital. He kept a notebook and recorded the men’s stories as he heard them. They form the basis for All Quiet.

There were two (at least) unique features of the Great War. For civilian conscripts, there was vast disillusion with everything that they had been taught by Authority; and then there was the sheer anonymity of the killing. Of Remarque’s class of twenty schoolboys in All Quiet, at least half get killed ？ the narrator, Paul Baumer, just a week or two before the armistice of November 1918 ？ five or more are wounded, and one ends up in a lunatic asylum. They are all caught up in the tremendous Materialschlachten, the industrial slaughter, that killed over nine million soldiers and maimed many, many more. This was an artillery war, and the guns multiplied in number, power and range; huge technical skill was involved (for instance, plotting by sound-range where, on a grid-map, an enemy gun was sited). Time and again, Remarque’s boys are knocked out by shelling. The ordeal involved is well-expounded in the last scene of Sebastian Faulks’s Birdsong (1993) where the hero digs himself out of a great mound of mud and corpses, such as these heavy shells threw up. They, rather than the legendary machine-guns, caused three-quarters of the casualties. It is extraordinary that the generals started out with an assumption that this would be a war rather like that of 1870-71, between France and Prussia ？ infantry charging in clumps, bayonets outstretched, cavalry sweeping forward, and fortresses holding out bravely under siege; and of course there was the widespread illusion that the war would be short, an illusion spread as much by bankers and economists as by generals. But artillery could smash even the stoutest fortress, cavalry were helpless targets for modern rifles, and the French learned in August 1914 just how vulnerable their charging infantry clumps were to shrapnel. Remarque’s schoolboys were confronted almost at once with a war that they had not imagined. And they had also been let down by men in authority. When the war broke out, Germany was vilified for the invasion of neutral Belgium (Germans became ‘the Hun’ in the British press) and over 1,300 of the most prominent academics signed a pompous Intellektuelleneingabe ？ ‘petition of the intellectuals’ ？ associating the great names of German civilization with tub-thumping nationalist nonsense, instead of appreciating that the War was a sort of suicide. On a less exalted level, schoolteachers, the pride of Prussia, shovelled their sixth forms into uniform, as happened with

The masterpiece of the German experience during World War I, considered by many the greatest war novel of all time―with an Oscar？winning film adaptation now streaming on Netflix.

“[Erich Maria Remarque] is a craftsman of unquestionably first rank.”―The New York Times Book Review

I am young, I am twenty years old; yet I know nothing of life but despair, death, fear, and fatuous superficiality cast over an abyss of sorrow. . . .

This is the testament of Paul Baumer, who enlists with his classmates in the German army during World War I. They become soldiers with youthful enthusiasm. But the world of duty, culture, and progress they had been taught breaks in pieces under the first bombardment in the trenches.

Through years of vivid horror, Paul holds fast to a single vow: to fight against the principle of hate that meaninglessly pits young men of the same generation but different uniforms against one another . . . if only he can come out of the war alive.