I guess the only thing that should theoretically take this down a bit is that I did take a big break while reading it without particularly suffering. That said, excellent book. Kind of funny digs at Stalin in the beginning.
The book is slightly unfinished, I guess, which as a reader feels instead like a stylistic choice of an unconnected portrait of Nikolai Streltsov in the beginning before a switch to a different main character (Lopakhin, with sometimes Ivan Zvyagentsev). And I loved it. I think the disjointedness of the book actually adds something to it -- I haven't bothered to look into the history of its writing and I'm not interested in doing so.
I love the portrait of central-southern Russian/Malorussian way of life. I love the way the dialogue is written in such a colloquial peasant tone, true to life in those regions. I love the portrait of bitterness and hatred on all levels -- against the Germans, against the retreating soldiers, against the retreat itself. I love this picture into a time period, a humiliation, and a people that can't stomach it that so many authors weren't capable of tackling. Just fantastic. I love all the civilians in this. I love all the women in this. I love the girl that carries Zvyagentsev to the hospital as much as I love Zvyagenstev (who is exactly like his tezka, right down the the weight), and the large women that feeds them at the end as much as Lopakhin loves her and as much as I love Lopakhin.
The portrait of Nikolai and the simple sadness of his marriage and simple life is just such a great очерк посведневности. I feel it serves as a background the same way the whole book Завтра была война does, or something of the sort. Powerful in its unhappiness. The few, desperately sad glimpses we get of Nikolai's thoughts later, after he returns from being injured, only add to this melancholy, and somehow the "unsolved" nature of his life adds power to it.
The scene at the end where the colonel kisses the standard as Lopakhin seethes and his commander cries is also quite powerful. To Germany, again, I suppose.
А Сибирь давай временно вычеркнем из географии. Вчера мне Сашка - мой второй номер - говорит: "Дойдем до Урала, а там в горах мы с немцем скоро управимся". А я ему говорю: "Если ты, земляная жаба, еще раз мне про Урал скажешь, бронебойного патрона не пожалею, сыму сейчас свой мушкет и прямой наводкой глупую твою башню так и собью с плеч!"