A sudden, cathartic end to one of my more mammoth undertakings.  And to think that two equally sized volumes remain!  Biblio-exhaustion is rarely so enjoyable.  As I read this massive tome, I came across an excellent article on The Millions about ‘Literary Stockholm Syndrome’.  In essence, it is the theory that long, seemingly tedious works, hold us hostage only as long as they offer glimmers of hope, perceived rewards in the face of so much despair.

That being said, Foote’s first volume in his epic trilogy does not strangulate and/or water-board torture you like Joyce’s Ulysses or Pynchon’s Gravity’s Rainbow.  Foote’s is a pleasant kind of torture, a pain like the back of one’s legs after a long day of mountain climbing or a prolonged period of calisthenics.

Perspective changes, whether between generals and common soldiers or locations throughout the different theaters of the war, occur with just enough regularity that no subject ever become stale.  The research is impeccable, while the combination of memorandum between major strategic players and anecdotal passages from all walks of life, make this a truly fluid (though time consuming) read.