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It's a Battlefield
Drover, a Communist bus driver, is in prison appealing his death sentence for killing a policeman during a riot at Hyde Park Corner, a policeman he thought was about to club his wife. A battle rages to save Drover's life from the noose. The Assistant Commissioner, high-principled and over-worked; Conrad, a paranoid clerk; Mr. Surrogate, a rich Fabian; Condor, a pathetic journalist feeding on fantasies; and Kay, pretty and promiscuous — all have a part to play in Drover's fate.
208 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1934
62 people are currently reading
616 people want to read
About the author
Graham Greene
818 books6,265 followersHenry Graham Greene was an English writer and journalist regarded by many as one of the leading novelists of the 20th century.
Combining literary acclaim with widespread popularity, Greene acquired a reputation early in his lifetime as a major writer, both of serious Catholic novels, and of thrillers (or "entertainments" as he termed them). He was shortlisted for the Nobel Prize in Literature several times. Through 67 years of writing, which included over 25 novels, he explored the conflicting moral and political issues of the modern world. The Power and the Glory won the 1941 Hawthornden Prize and The Heart of the Matter won the 1948 James Tait Black Memorial Prize and was shortlisted for the Best of the James Tait Black. Greene was awarded the 1968 Shakespeare Prize and the 1981 Jerusalem Prize. Several of his stories have been filmed, some more than once, and he collaborated with filmmaker Carol Reed on The Fallen Idol (1948) and The Third Man (1949).
He converted to Catholicism in 1926 after meeting his future wife, Vivienne Dayrell-Browning. Later in life he took to calling himself a "Catholic agnostic". He died in 1991, aged 86, of leukemia, and was buried in Corseaux cemetery in Switzerland. William Golding called Greene "the ultimate chronicler of twentieth-century man's consciousness and anxiety".
Combining literary acclaim with widespread popularity, Greene acquired a reputation early in his lifetime as a major writer, both of serious Catholic novels, and of thrillers (or "entertainments" as he termed them). He was shortlisted for the Nobel Prize in Literature several times. Through 67 years of writing, which included over 25 novels, he explored the conflicting moral and political issues of the modern world. The Power and the Glory won the 1941 Hawthornden Prize and The Heart of the Matter won the 1948 James Tait Black Memorial Prize and was shortlisted for the Best of the James Tait Black. Greene was awarded the 1968 Shakespeare Prize and the 1981 Jerusalem Prize. Several of his stories have been filmed, some more than once, and he collaborated with filmmaker Carol Reed on The Fallen Idol (1948) and The Third Man (1949).
He converted to Catholicism in 1926 after meeting his future wife, Vivienne Dayrell-Browning. Later in life he took to calling himself a "Catholic agnostic". He died in 1991, aged 86, of leukemia, and was buried in Corseaux cemetery in Switzerland. William Golding called Greene "the ultimate chronicler of twentieth-century man's consciousness and anxiety".
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 83 reviews
June 19, 2022
Having been reminded of this book by my GR friend Zoeb, I took it down from the shelf, thinking that it was a Greene I hadn’t read. I had, though, many years ago. Something of it came back to me as I read it, probably the fashionableness of early communism in ‘thirties London, as there is nothing individual about the characters, and I can’t help thinking of the plot as merely dingy, and the context appropriately shabby. It wasn’t a particularly enjoyable read for me; but all the fascination of Greene was there, the drawing us in to a seedy world where our desires, our motives, are laid bare. He pulls us out of our comfortable armchair to thrash us, morally and intellectually, until we are reduced and thereby salvaged, from, or for, something that is beyond us.
There is a quotation at the beginning of the book that for me sums it up admirably:
‘In so far as the battlefield presented itself to the bare eyesight of men, it had no entirety, no length, no breadth, no depth, no size, no shape, and was made up of nothing except small numberless circlets commensurate with such ranges of vision as the mist might allow at each spot . . . In such conditions, each separate gathering of English soldiery went on fighting its own little battle in happy and advantageous ignorance of the general state of the action; nay, even very often in ignorance of the fact that any great conflict was raging.’
The quote is from Alexander William Kinglake, on The Battle of Inkerman, I think, from Vol 5 of The Invasion of the Crimea. I have read some of his Eothan and hope to get back to it at some point.
There are one or two references to this battle in the book, as fleeting thoughts or memories that people the characters’ lives, to a greater degree than the people do with whom they live or interact. I found it interesting that Greene used what I think of as the modern technique of flashback so extensively in this early work, mingled with characters’ visions of the future and also of how they imagine to themselves how they behave or appear in the present. Their reality is unacceptable; they exist in a limbo between past and future. They are aware that they should at least look for, or aim for, justice; but they fumble rather half-heartedly towards it, and it is hedged about with uncertainties. Injustice has taken its place:
“ It (injustice) was as much a part of the body as age and inevitable disease . . . There was no such thing as justice in the air we breathed.”
And again,
“The chaplain said: ‘I can’t stand human justice any longer. Its arbitrariness. Its incomprehensibility.’”
Greene always excels at the spiritual twist, the paradox. Injustice, as it assumes dominance, acquires one of the properties of the divine: mercy, which here bears the name of its opposite, and so is insidious; it pervades all. One of the characters, in his role, enables a comparison between the corrupt systems of the west and “the hopeless east”, where direct justice, at least relatively speaking, seems to happen of itself, to evolve from the nature of an environment that is uncontrolled; in this, communism cannot answer, and a society that has developed rigid class and legal systems has killed even the possibility of it. At the centre of the plot is one who has actually killed; the story opens with this incident and closes with an echo of it. This does not finish off the plot with despair and disillusion, as each of the characters embraces these concepts on a daily basis. Contrasts of personality, and emotional drive, carry the deliberately disjointed narrative.
Not my favourite Greene by any means, but in so many ways a portent of what was to emerge from his pen; the dreary redemption, the renunciation, the final dismemberment of self!
There is a quotation at the beginning of the book that for me sums it up admirably:
‘In so far as the battlefield presented itself to the bare eyesight of men, it had no entirety, no length, no breadth, no depth, no size, no shape, and was made up of nothing except small numberless circlets commensurate with such ranges of vision as the mist might allow at each spot . . . In such conditions, each separate gathering of English soldiery went on fighting its own little battle in happy and advantageous ignorance of the general state of the action; nay, even very often in ignorance of the fact that any great conflict was raging.’
The quote is from Alexander William Kinglake, on The Battle of Inkerman, I think, from Vol 5 of The Invasion of the Crimea. I have read some of his Eothan and hope to get back to it at some point.
There are one or two references to this battle in the book, as fleeting thoughts or memories that people the characters’ lives, to a greater degree than the people do with whom they live or interact. I found it interesting that Greene used what I think of as the modern technique of flashback so extensively in this early work, mingled with characters’ visions of the future and also of how they imagine to themselves how they behave or appear in the present. Their reality is unacceptable; they exist in a limbo between past and future. They are aware that they should at least look for, or aim for, justice; but they fumble rather half-heartedly towards it, and it is hedged about with uncertainties. Injustice has taken its place:
“ It (injustice) was as much a part of the body as age and inevitable disease . . . There was no such thing as justice in the air we breathed.”
And again,
“The chaplain said: ‘I can’t stand human justice any longer. Its arbitrariness. Its incomprehensibility.’”
Greene always excels at the spiritual twist, the paradox. Injustice, as it assumes dominance, acquires one of the properties of the divine: mercy, which here bears the name of its opposite, and so is insidious; it pervades all. One of the characters, in his role, enables a comparison between the corrupt systems of the west and “the hopeless east”, where direct justice, at least relatively speaking, seems to happen of itself, to evolve from the nature of an environment that is uncontrolled; in this, communism cannot answer, and a society that has developed rigid class and legal systems has killed even the possibility of it. At the centre of the plot is one who has actually killed; the story opens with this incident and closes with an echo of it. This does not finish off the plot with despair and disillusion, as each of the characters embraces these concepts on a daily basis. Contrasts of personality, and emotional drive, carry the deliberately disjointed narrative.
Not my favourite Greene by any means, but in so many ways a portent of what was to emerge from his pen; the dreary redemption, the renunciation, the final dismemberment of self!
August 3, 2022
The title of Graham Greene's strangest, bleakest and most deeply cynical novel could not have been better chosen. Near the approach of the heartbreaking and bitterly ironic ending, a character (I won't reveal who) muses upon this very paradox - of how men and women, all inevitably a part of a greater war for justice, for the victory of right over wrong, find themselves confronted instead with their own private battles and thus end up losing sight of the main objective in the first place. At heart, "It's A Battlefield", a great London novel in the vein of Conrad's "The Secret Agent" and Chesterton's brilliant "The Man Who Was Thursday" (but certainly less ponderous than the former and considerably grimier than the latter), explores this paradox and portrays it as a fundamental failing of humanity itself. When Greene called it as a novel about the injustice of man's justice, he was being most astute in his summing up of its complex but profound themes.
At the heart of the multi-layered plot, woven of many small and significant threads and featuring a cast of characters, either directly or indirectly affected by the primary situation, is the story of a Communist bus driver named Drover, who has been arrested and sentenced to death for killing a policeman. Here's the thing, though - even as this quiet, enigmatic man, about whom we never really learn enough, except what is told or thought about him through other people, is on the throes of death, nobody, not even the people closest to him, seem to realise the devastating import of this certain fact. This reminded me of how Greene, in the much later "The Honorary Consul", devised a starkly similar situation, in which a man, wrongly abducted for a hopeless cause and now doomed to his fate, is almost willfully ignored by the very people supposed to be concerned for his life. But while the latter novel was also a bravura thriller of suspense, machismo and the stiff upper lip, "It's A Battlefield" is the very opposite of that - it is instead an ironic portrait of a general and universal condition of stoic and even selfish indifference that prevails and thus inures and insulates people from taking action to protest against injustice.
It is this selfish indifference that Greene portrays most incisively and scathingly in the characters that surround like scattered military units around the battle between life and death, between justice and injustice, that rages as Drover awaits his fate at the gallows. There is the Assistant Commissioner, aging, world-weary, dispassionate, an exile from the East who is trying desperately to reconcile himself again to England; there is the Fleet Street journalist Conder, who keeps on switching identities and backstories in his relentless pursuit of a story and finds himself ineffectual in the throes of paranoia; there is the false and pretentious Mr. Surrogate, an aging salon Communist who has only taken advantage of political and social causes in his decadent pursuit of sensual pleasure and through these three utterly self-centered characters, Greene reveals scathingly, almost angrily, the moral corruption that runs deep through the institutes of law and order, press and Drover's brotherhood itself.
Then there are some more characters, closer to the scene of the battle, a little more determined to put in their best effort at ensuring victory but still unsure about how to proceed. There is Kay, Drover's sister-in-law, a young woman seeking permanent romance and instead resorting to temporary affairs with men, there is Jules, Drover's possible comrade, an exile from France whose quest for a honourable cause transforms into a hopeless romance instead and at the very heart of the novel is the doomed illicit romance between Milly, Drover's wife, driven to despair at the inevitability of solitude and Conrad, his world-weary and bitter brother, who is tormented by the fact of his rise from sordid poverty to respectability. It is this broken, almost dysfunctional tryst between these two helpless and ill-fated people most loyal to the man on the death row, that forms the beating, feverish heart of this novel.
Even as Greene's portrait of his characters is deeply cynical, he never loses his sense of boundless empathy and even compassion; these characters are, in the words of Zadie Smith, those who, as to be expected in this writer's moral universe, "fail in degrees" and yet the realism of their ethical and moral failures is natural and unaffected. We feel for and understand the mediocrity, the despair, the maddening pathos of the lives of these characters and yet we are equally disturbed and upset by their selfishness. Some readers might be disoriented by how their narrative threads do not lead to any significant conclusions or consequences and yet what they would fail to realise is how the title's meaning is brilliantly manifest in these individual arcs and in the meager, half-hearted attempts of these sordid characters to escape their petty, commonplace lives, regardless of the death of another man.
Above all, as said before, "It's A Battlefield" is a terrific and even terrifying portrait of 1930s London, a panoramic vista of a city and its mean streets and its immensities, its squalid corners and its stately avenues, the paradoxical contrast between its majestic elegance and its mediocrity, thus delineating more ironically the vast gulf between comfort and poverty, between justice and injustice themselves. The novel, even when dwelling on the inward thoughts of its doomed and failed characters, never loses its pace, the writer orchestrating his prose with the speed and precision of a film camera and also embellishing his lean, brisk writing with the unmistakable poetic touches that distinguish him from all other writers so wonderfully. "It's A Battlefield" is a must-read novel for not only his admirers but for even those looking for a novel that argues and incriminates and seethes in anger without ever sounding preachy, propagandist or ponderous.
At the heart of the multi-layered plot, woven of many small and significant threads and featuring a cast of characters, either directly or indirectly affected by the primary situation, is the story of a Communist bus driver named Drover, who has been arrested and sentenced to death for killing a policeman. Here's the thing, though - even as this quiet, enigmatic man, about whom we never really learn enough, except what is told or thought about him through other people, is on the throes of death, nobody, not even the people closest to him, seem to realise the devastating import of this certain fact. This reminded me of how Greene, in the much later "The Honorary Consul", devised a starkly similar situation, in which a man, wrongly abducted for a hopeless cause and now doomed to his fate, is almost willfully ignored by the very people supposed to be concerned for his life. But while the latter novel was also a bravura thriller of suspense, machismo and the stiff upper lip, "It's A Battlefield" is the very opposite of that - it is instead an ironic portrait of a general and universal condition of stoic and even selfish indifference that prevails and thus inures and insulates people from taking action to protest against injustice.
It is this selfish indifference that Greene portrays most incisively and scathingly in the characters that surround like scattered military units around the battle between life and death, between justice and injustice, that rages as Drover awaits his fate at the gallows. There is the Assistant Commissioner, aging, world-weary, dispassionate, an exile from the East who is trying desperately to reconcile himself again to England; there is the Fleet Street journalist Conder, who keeps on switching identities and backstories in his relentless pursuit of a story and finds himself ineffectual in the throes of paranoia; there is the false and pretentious Mr. Surrogate, an aging salon Communist who has only taken advantage of political and social causes in his decadent pursuit of sensual pleasure and through these three utterly self-centered characters, Greene reveals scathingly, almost angrily, the moral corruption that runs deep through the institutes of law and order, press and Drover's brotherhood itself.
Then there are some more characters, closer to the scene of the battle, a little more determined to put in their best effort at ensuring victory but still unsure about how to proceed. There is Kay, Drover's sister-in-law, a young woman seeking permanent romance and instead resorting to temporary affairs with men, there is Jules, Drover's possible comrade, an exile from France whose quest for a honourable cause transforms into a hopeless romance instead and at the very heart of the novel is the doomed illicit romance between Milly, Drover's wife, driven to despair at the inevitability of solitude and Conrad, his world-weary and bitter brother, who is tormented by the fact of his rise from sordid poverty to respectability. It is this broken, almost dysfunctional tryst between these two helpless and ill-fated people most loyal to the man on the death row, that forms the beating, feverish heart of this novel.
Even as Greene's portrait of his characters is deeply cynical, he never loses his sense of boundless empathy and even compassion; these characters are, in the words of Zadie Smith, those who, as to be expected in this writer's moral universe, "fail in degrees" and yet the realism of their ethical and moral failures is natural and unaffected. We feel for and understand the mediocrity, the despair, the maddening pathos of the lives of these characters and yet we are equally disturbed and upset by their selfishness. Some readers might be disoriented by how their narrative threads do not lead to any significant conclusions or consequences and yet what they would fail to realise is how the title's meaning is brilliantly manifest in these individual arcs and in the meager, half-hearted attempts of these sordid characters to escape their petty, commonplace lives, regardless of the death of another man.
Above all, as said before, "It's A Battlefield" is a terrific and even terrifying portrait of 1930s London, a panoramic vista of a city and its mean streets and its immensities, its squalid corners and its stately avenues, the paradoxical contrast between its majestic elegance and its mediocrity, thus delineating more ironically the vast gulf between comfort and poverty, between justice and injustice themselves. The novel, even when dwelling on the inward thoughts of its doomed and failed characters, never loses its pace, the writer orchestrating his prose with the speed and precision of a film camera and also embellishing his lean, brisk writing with the unmistakable poetic touches that distinguish him from all other writers so wonderfully. "It's A Battlefield" is a must-read novel for not only his admirers but for even those looking for a novel that argues and incriminates and seethes in anger without ever sounding preachy, propagandist or ponderous.
August 15, 2022
Graham Greene described It's a Battlefield (1934) as his first overtly political novel. The novel explores the intersecting lives of those close to Drover, a communist bus driver, who knifed a policeman in order to stop him from striking Drover's wife. The action all takes place in the days before Drover is due to hang for his crime.
It's a Battlefield is a bleak book populated by selfish and limited individuals. Greene takes a disapproving look at the politics and class structure of the 1930s, with class and capitalism emerging as the true villains. Worth a read for hardcore Greene fans but certainly not up there with his best work.
3/5
Drover, a Communist bus driver, is in prison appealing his death sentence for killing a policeman during a riot at Hyde Park Corner, a policeman he thought was about to club his wife. A battle rages to save Drover's life from the noose. The Assistant Commissioner, high-principled and over-worked; Conrad, a paranoid clerk; Mr. Surrogate, a rich Fabian; Condor, a pathetic journalist feeding on fantasies; and Kay, pretty and promiscuous — all have a part to play in Drover's fate
It's a Battlefield is a bleak book populated by selfish and limited individuals. Greene takes a disapproving look at the politics and class structure of the 1930s, with class and capitalism emerging as the true villains. Worth a read for hardcore Greene fans but certainly not up there with his best work.
3/5
Drover, a Communist bus driver, is in prison appealing his death sentence for killing a policeman during a riot at Hyde Park Corner, a policeman he thought was about to club his wife. A battle rages to save Drover's life from the noose. The Assistant Commissioner, high-principled and over-worked; Conrad, a paranoid clerk; Mr. Surrogate, a rich Fabian; Condor, a pathetic journalist feeding on fantasies; and Kay, pretty and promiscuous — all have a part to play in Drover's fate
July 18, 2014
Probably my least favourite GG novel, of those I have read.
Set in pre WWII London, with fear of Communism - I guess my knowledge of the background history is a bit sketchy.
I didn't really identify with any of the characters the way I have come to expect with a GG novel.
Set in pre WWII London, with fear of Communism - I guess my knowledge of the background history is a bit sketchy.
I didn't really identify with any of the characters the way I have come to expect with a GG novel.
April 5, 2017
An early Greene with a political bent. The characters all have some issues.
November 18, 2014
Review first posted on BookLikes: http://brokentune.booklikes.com/post/...
“ ‘Yes,’ the secretary said, ‘it was about Drover. Now that the appeal has failed, it all rests on the Home Secretary. The poor dear man is worried, very worried, and all on top too of the licensing.’ The secretary’s wide pale face glistened softly under the concealed lighting and he leant forward with an infinite suggestion of frankness, with an overwhelming effect of guile. ‘To tell you the truth, he’d have been glad, he’d have been tremendously relieved, if the appeal had been allowed.’ ‘Impossible,’ the Assistant Commissioner said, ‘there was no possible – er – line possible – er – line that the Defence could – could take.’ ‘Exactly. I was in Court. The Minister, you see, thought that the L.C.J. might give some excuse for a reprieve. But there was nothing at all to get hold of.’ ‘The policeman died,’ the Assistant Commissioner said stubbornly, ‘we got the man.’ ‘But the Minister, you know, doesn’t want the poor devil’s blood. Nobody does. It was a political meeting. Everyone was excited. Drover thought the bobby was going to hit his wife. He had the knife in his pocket. That, of course, is the snag. Why did he carry the knife?’”
Well, that was ... interesting. It’s a Battlefield seems to follow on – in both content and style – from The Man Within and tries to show the discrepancy between what is just in humanitarian terms and what is just in social or legal terms.
The story focuses on the efforts of the Assistant Commissioner to write a report and make a recommendation to the Home Secretary about whether the death sentence handed to Drover should be reprieved. Drover had been convicted of the killing of a police officer during a demonstration. In the course of the investigation by the Assistant Commissioner, it becomes clear that there is a little more to the background of the conviction and that the sentencing may have been influenced by the fact that Drover’s is a communist.
It’s an interesting book because Greene quite overtly talks about politics and social injustice in Britain (the story is set in London). Written in 1934, around the time that Greene joined the Independent Labour Party, the book seems to reflect on issues that Greene might have pondered on as part of his political activity. However, as with everything with Greene, there is little confirmation of what his motivations were as he constantly revised his memoirs, creating quite a few contradictions.
Nevertheless in true Greene fashion, despite the politically inspired theme there is no clear message to the story other than a realisation that life can be depressing, futile, and unjust.
“When he thought of the heavy sentences passed on men who stole a little jewelry from a rich man’s house, the Assistant Commissioner was more than ever thankful that justice was not his business. He knew quite well the cause of the discrepancy; the laws were made by property owners in defence of property; that was why a Fascist could talk treason without prosecution; that was why a man who defrauded the State in defence of his private wealth did not even lose the money he had gained; that was why the burglar went to gaol for five years; that was why Drover could not so easily be reprieved – he was a Communist. Again, it was not his business; he resented having to report to the Minister that in his opinion neither the reprieve nor the execution of Drover would have any public effect.”
This is still an early work and, as mentioned above, it is very reminiscent of The Man Within and I would not be surprised if he had written or drafted It's a Battlefield before Stamboul Train, just because the characters seemed to be developed better (and applied a dark sense of humour) in Stamboul Train. I don't think Greene had found his proper style yet but am curious to discover at what point in time he breaks away from trying to have his protagonists act out social or political struggles and starts to focus on the internal turmoils.
“ ‘Yes,’ the secretary said, ‘it was about Drover. Now that the appeal has failed, it all rests on the Home Secretary. The poor dear man is worried, very worried, and all on top too of the licensing.’ The secretary’s wide pale face glistened softly under the concealed lighting and he leant forward with an infinite suggestion of frankness, with an overwhelming effect of guile. ‘To tell you the truth, he’d have been glad, he’d have been tremendously relieved, if the appeal had been allowed.’ ‘Impossible,’ the Assistant Commissioner said, ‘there was no possible – er – line possible – er – line that the Defence could – could take.’ ‘Exactly. I was in Court. The Minister, you see, thought that the L.C.J. might give some excuse for a reprieve. But there was nothing at all to get hold of.’ ‘The policeman died,’ the Assistant Commissioner said stubbornly, ‘we got the man.’ ‘But the Minister, you know, doesn’t want the poor devil’s blood. Nobody does. It was a political meeting. Everyone was excited. Drover thought the bobby was going to hit his wife. He had the knife in his pocket. That, of course, is the snag. Why did he carry the knife?’”
Well, that was ... interesting. It’s a Battlefield seems to follow on – in both content and style – from The Man Within and tries to show the discrepancy between what is just in humanitarian terms and what is just in social or legal terms.
The story focuses on the efforts of the Assistant Commissioner to write a report and make a recommendation to the Home Secretary about whether the death sentence handed to Drover should be reprieved. Drover had been convicted of the killing of a police officer during a demonstration. In the course of the investigation by the Assistant Commissioner, it becomes clear that there is a little more to the background of the conviction and that the sentencing may have been influenced by the fact that Drover’s is a communist.
It’s an interesting book because Greene quite overtly talks about politics and social injustice in Britain (the story is set in London). Written in 1934, around the time that Greene joined the Independent Labour Party, the book seems to reflect on issues that Greene might have pondered on as part of his political activity. However, as with everything with Greene, there is little confirmation of what his motivations were as he constantly revised his memoirs, creating quite a few contradictions.
Nevertheless in true Greene fashion, despite the politically inspired theme there is no clear message to the story other than a realisation that life can be depressing, futile, and unjust.
“When he thought of the heavy sentences passed on men who stole a little jewelry from a rich man’s house, the Assistant Commissioner was more than ever thankful that justice was not his business. He knew quite well the cause of the discrepancy; the laws were made by property owners in defence of property; that was why a Fascist could talk treason without prosecution; that was why a man who defrauded the State in defence of his private wealth did not even lose the money he had gained; that was why the burglar went to gaol for five years; that was why Drover could not so easily be reprieved – he was a Communist. Again, it was not his business; he resented having to report to the Minister that in his opinion neither the reprieve nor the execution of Drover would have any public effect.”
This is still an early work and, as mentioned above, it is very reminiscent of The Man Within and I would not be surprised if he had written or drafted It's a Battlefield before Stamboul Train, just because the characters seemed to be developed better (and applied a dark sense of humour) in Stamboul Train. I don't think Greene had found his proper style yet but am curious to discover at what point in time he breaks away from trying to have his protagonists act out social or political struggles and starts to focus on the internal turmoils.
May 10, 2010
It's London, between the wars, 1934. A man has killed a policeman during a strike; a riot had broken out, the bobby was poised to hit the striking workman's wife, and he instinctively defended her with his pocket knife.
The workman's name is Jim Drover. He's been sentenced to hang. An aging Assistant Commissioner, recently returned from the East, has been asked by a Minister to report to him on the pulse of the people; this has nothing to do with sentiment, or justice, he's up for reelection, and he wants to know if the workers will riot if the workman is hanged, or will they feel the Minister is weak if he is reprieved.
Drover's suffering wife has a sister who just wants to find a man and have a good time, and the condemned worker has a brother, Conrad, who loves him deeply, but who is also hopelessly in love with his brother's wife. There is a pompous Communist leader in love with the ideas of Equality and The People, not so much the people themselves. And a reporter who has invented so many lives for himself that he sometimes forgets which is the real one.
This is Greeneland; there are no happy endings waiting for anyone. Instead, there are questions to trouble the conscience. Conrad is the main character in the book, his thoughts laying out the major themes. Jim received a poor defense, the lawyer himself barely cared. If he is reprieved, he will be in jail for 18 years. Who will support his young wife? How can she possibly be expected to be loyal to him, allowed to see him only once a month for all those years? With this kind of justice, is it better for Jim to hang, and free her, or to live on in prison, knowing that his beloved will betray him, again and again? Is the equality for Everyman that Communism promises at meetings a possibility, or a fantasy to keep the worker occupied while the real powers, people with money and influence and connections, blithely keep doing whatever it is they've always done?
This is a beautiful, bitter little story. GG worked as a sub-editor at the Times, and in some ways, this is a love letter to London at this particular time in his life. The gifts of his compassion, his sympathy for all victims, and the beauty of his language are all very much on display here. It's a Battlefield may not be one of GG's major books, but it's a terrific snapshot of the concerns and anxieties consuming pre-World War II England, full of passions and ideas to stir the heart.
The workman's name is Jim Drover. He's been sentenced to hang. An aging Assistant Commissioner, recently returned from the East, has been asked by a Minister to report to him on the pulse of the people; this has nothing to do with sentiment, or justice, he's up for reelection, and he wants to know if the workers will riot if the workman is hanged, or will they feel the Minister is weak if he is reprieved.
Drover's suffering wife has a sister who just wants to find a man and have a good time, and the condemned worker has a brother, Conrad, who loves him deeply, but who is also hopelessly in love with his brother's wife. There is a pompous Communist leader in love with the ideas of Equality and The People, not so much the people themselves. And a reporter who has invented so many lives for himself that he sometimes forgets which is the real one.
This is Greeneland; there are no happy endings waiting for anyone. Instead, there are questions to trouble the conscience. Conrad is the main character in the book, his thoughts laying out the major themes. Jim received a poor defense, the lawyer himself barely cared. If he is reprieved, he will be in jail for 18 years. Who will support his young wife? How can she possibly be expected to be loyal to him, allowed to see him only once a month for all those years? With this kind of justice, is it better for Jim to hang, and free her, or to live on in prison, knowing that his beloved will betray him, again and again? Is the equality for Everyman that Communism promises at meetings a possibility, or a fantasy to keep the worker occupied while the real powers, people with money and influence and connections, blithely keep doing whatever it is they've always done?
This is a beautiful, bitter little story. GG worked as a sub-editor at the Times, and in some ways, this is a love letter to London at this particular time in his life. The gifts of his compassion, his sympathy for all victims, and the beauty of his language are all very much on display here. It's a Battlefield may not be one of GG's major books, but it's a terrific snapshot of the concerns and anxieties consuming pre-World War II England, full of passions and ideas to stir the heart.
January 29, 2020
3.75-star
I simply found reading this 5-chapter novel first published in 1934 tediously but arguably thrilling due to, probably, its unpredictable chapter lengths in which they kept hypnotizing me with less light and more darkness. I had no idea in terms of them while reading so let me have a quick survey on each chapter covering its pages as follows: 1 - 16+; 2 - 56+; 3 - 45+; 4 - 49+; and 5 - 21+. As we can see from these numbers, chapters 1, 5 would be more readable than chapters 3, 4 whereas chapter 2 the least devilishly readable; therefore, reading through 56 pages was indeed like a tough journey for me due to its plot as well as mysterious characters.
However, the following synopsis should guide us to form our idea and perception:
Fortunately, there is a website on this book (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/It%27s_...) in which its topics and information are recommended to interested readers since, I hope, it would definitely give you more light to literally savour it deliciously.
To continue . . .
I simply found reading this 5-chapter novel first published in 1934 tediously but arguably thrilling due to, probably, its unpredictable chapter lengths in which they kept hypnotizing me with less light and more darkness. I had no idea in terms of them while reading so let me have a quick survey on each chapter covering its pages as follows: 1 - 16+; 2 - 56+; 3 - 45+; 4 - 49+; and 5 - 21+. As we can see from these numbers, chapters 1, 5 would be more readable than chapters 3, 4 whereas chapter 2 the least devilishly readable; therefore, reading through 56 pages was indeed like a tough journey for me due to its plot as well as mysterious characters.
However, the following synopsis should guide us to form our idea and perception:
Drover, a Communist bus-driver, has been sentenced to death for killing a policeman in a political riot because he thought the policeman was going to strike his wife.
A bitter irony hovers the little battles fought to save the bus-driver. The new Assistant Commissioner, overworked and afraid of retirement, is badgered by a political hostess; hounded by Drover's brother, a paranoid Chief Clerk determined to justify his manhood.
On the edge of the battles are Conder, a pathetic journalist living off his fantasies; Surrogate, a Fabian economist, overshadowed by his dead wife; Kay Rimmer, a factory girl, pretty and promiscuous . . . (back cover)
Fortunately, there is a website on this book (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/It%27s_...) in which its topics and information are recommended to interested readers since, I hope, it would definitely give you more light to literally savour it deliciously.
To continue . . .
September 4, 2013
My least favorite Graham Greene so far, but even a bad Graham Greene book is better than most....
May 12, 2012
I truly enjoy Greene’s more serious works and It’s a Battlefield certainly qualifies as an attempt to be just that. The same poignant, insightful, and serious writing that seeks to expose the human condition to the world is prevalent throughout. Also missing from this book is the film-noir and comedic style that plagued Brighton Rock and Our Man in Havana (respectively). Therefore, everything that I love about Greene is here and everything that I dislike about Greene is absent.
I found the theme of justice, and how justice affects various people of different classes and positions in society to be enticing. Greene also tackles love and hate and the interplay between these two emotions; a theme that he covers more extensively (and successfully) in his best book, The End of the Affair. Greene also illustrates the inherent selfishness of people who are seemingly united in a cause, but yet focus their efforts to achieve that cause in their own self-serving ways. All great stuff for a book and Greene is the perfect writer to undertake such a serious piece of writing.
Greene’s typical books seem average about 300 pages in length and his style of writing (at least in his better books) uses the length of the book to gradually reveal his main characters. This approach is worked to its best effect in The Heart of the Matter, where the reader is allowed to grow-to-know a limited number of main characters, from first impressions to final evaluation. But 300 pages (or in this case 225 pages) does not allow for a multitude of characters, which is the main issue with It’s a Battlefield.
The vast portion of life that Greene attempts to cover in this book required the use of many characters. There were at least ten characters, each of which was used to illustrate some aspect of his main themes. Thus, his style hindered his ability to explore any single character or any single theme very deeply. In the end, you’re left with only a mental sketch of his original intent and left whishing for more.
I found the theme of justice, and how justice affects various people of different classes and positions in society to be enticing. Greene also tackles love and hate and the interplay between these two emotions; a theme that he covers more extensively (and successfully) in his best book, The End of the Affair. Greene also illustrates the inherent selfishness of people who are seemingly united in a cause, but yet focus their efforts to achieve that cause in their own self-serving ways. All great stuff for a book and Greene is the perfect writer to undertake such a serious piece of writing.
Greene’s typical books seem average about 300 pages in length and his style of writing (at least in his better books) uses the length of the book to gradually reveal his main characters. This approach is worked to its best effect in The Heart of the Matter, where the reader is allowed to grow-to-know a limited number of main characters, from first impressions to final evaluation. But 300 pages (or in this case 225 pages) does not allow for a multitude of characters, which is the main issue with It’s a Battlefield.
The vast portion of life that Greene attempts to cover in this book required the use of many characters. There were at least ten characters, each of which was used to illustrate some aspect of his main themes. Thus, his style hindered his ability to explore any single character or any single theme very deeply. In the end, you’re left with only a mental sketch of his original intent and left whishing for more.
August 22, 2016
This early Graham Greene novel might be one of his lesser-known works, but it is written at top power, painting a bleak picture of a society where individuals are crushed in the workings of the state. The novel centres on the 'battle' to save Jim Drover, a London bus driver sentenced to death for murder, after fatally striking a policeman who was about to attack his wife during a public protest.
As with his previous book, 'Stamboul Train', this novel is told from various viewpoints. The condemned man, Jim, is always kept at a distance, as he is only glimpsed through the thoughts and memories of the other characters. For me the most vivid portrait is of Jim's brother, Conrad, a factory clerk isolated from his colleagues by his white-collar job, and torn between his love for Jim and his hidden passion for Jim's wife, the waif-like Milly. Conrad's fluctuating thoughts and growing obsession build with the inevitability of a nightmare.
I was also impressed by the portrayal of the (nameless) Assistant Commissioner, who has returned from long years of service in Africa and is isolated from his colleagues just as Conrad is. Also, he fears for his physical health just as Conrad does for his mental health. The novel is largely set in down-at-heel, seedy everyday scenes, including the match factory where Conrad and Milly's wilful, beautiful sister Kay work, as well as a newspaper office and Milly's humble lodgings.
All these scenes seem convincing to me, although Greene included an introduction to later editions saying that he felt the Communist party meeting he had included was unrealistic and that he didn't have enough knowledge of such meetings. Maybe so, but the boring, run-of-the-mill business and underlying rivalries between different members ring true. As with the revolutionary Dr Czinner in 'Stamboul Train', idealism is compromised and wrecked by a host of confusing rival demands.
Paul O'Prey's 'A Reader's Guide to Graham Greene' says the book was strongly influenced by Joseph Conrad's 'The Secret Agent' - and he points out that this is signalled within the novel, as it is mentioned that Conrad was called after 'a Polish sailor', ie the writer. It's a long time since I read 'The Secret Agent', so I didn't pick up on parallels, but the intense psychological focus does feel like Conrad.
As with his previous book, 'Stamboul Train', this novel is told from various viewpoints. The condemned man, Jim, is always kept at a distance, as he is only glimpsed through the thoughts and memories of the other characters. For me the most vivid portrait is of Jim's brother, Conrad, a factory clerk isolated from his colleagues by his white-collar job, and torn between his love for Jim and his hidden passion for Jim's wife, the waif-like Milly. Conrad's fluctuating thoughts and growing obsession build with the inevitability of a nightmare.
I was also impressed by the portrayal of the (nameless) Assistant Commissioner, who has returned from long years of service in Africa and is isolated from his colleagues just as Conrad is. Also, he fears for his physical health just as Conrad does for his mental health. The novel is largely set in down-at-heel, seedy everyday scenes, including the match factory where Conrad and Milly's wilful, beautiful sister Kay work, as well as a newspaper office and Milly's humble lodgings.
All these scenes seem convincing to me, although Greene included an introduction to later editions saying that he felt the Communist party meeting he had included was unrealistic and that he didn't have enough knowledge of such meetings. Maybe so, but the boring, run-of-the-mill business and underlying rivalries between different members ring true. As with the revolutionary Dr Czinner in 'Stamboul Train', idealism is compromised and wrecked by a host of confusing rival demands.
Paul O'Prey's 'A Reader's Guide to Graham Greene' says the book was strongly influenced by Joseph Conrad's 'The Secret Agent' - and he points out that this is signalled within the novel, as it is mentioned that Conrad was called after 'a Polish sailor', ie the writer. It's a long time since I read 'The Secret Agent', so I didn't pick up on parallels, but the intense psychological focus does feel like Conrad.
May 8, 2019
2.5 stars. I think my disappointment in this novel stems from my misconception of the topic. I had expected more of a political-tinged novel of law and justice, but Greene used that only as a way to frame what was essentially a character study of love, sex, loneliness, grief, and alienation. While I would normally be keen to read a novel on these issues (especially one written by Greene) my misplaced expectations caused me to feel a little let down. Even so, there are passages here of great beauty and power that give insight into the human condition, as in every Greene novel I’ve read. This might be worth checking out only after reading much of Greene’s other work. But if you are just dipping into Greene or seeking his best fiction, you should probably look elsewhere.
March 6, 2025
2.5
I liked the other Graham Greene novels a lot more than this one. Since it’s one of his earliest works I guess I’m just more of a fan of his writing style in later novels.
I liked the other Graham Greene novels a lot more than this one. Since it’s one of his earliest works I guess I’m just more of a fan of his writing style in later novels.
Read
June 7, 2016The earliest Graham Greene I've read, and not by much, but here it's much more apparent that we're not dealing with the finished article. The snatches of overheard speech, the constant shifts of perspective, had me thinking at times of dos Passos or Faulkner. One character labours under the unlikely name of Mr Surrogate, which seems more like a Waugh or Dickens moniker than a Greene one; another is named Conrad after a seaman who used to lodge with his family, and the sense of London as one of the dark places of the Earth definitely comes through here. It's a city of crabbed lives, anxiety, failure to communicate; a place dominated by that horrible strain of the British character which fears happiness will always draw punishment. It's said of one character that "there remained, even below the hatred, the belief that if he had been able to love naturally and without shame, if he had been loved with tenderness and permanence, there would have been no need of the pistol in his pocket, the aimless walking and the guilt"- but most of that goes for everyone here. Love is no salvation; even faith mostly lacks the terrible efficaciousness it usually has in Greeneland. The closest thing to a moment of uncomplicated joy comes on the novel's one trip outside the dread city, but even there human weakness spoils the idyll a little before the metropolis' gravity can. The plot centres on a condemned man, Drover, sentenced to hang for killing a policeman he took to be threatening his wife. But as a character he's an absence, perhaps to point up the way that in their own ways all those orbiting him - paranoid brother, fearful wife, the Assistant Commissioner who feels hopelessly out of place, and so forth - are all operating just as much in the shadow of death, simply by virtue of their presence on the smoke-clouded battlefield that is modern life. One or two of the cast - the wealthy Mr Surrogate, the philanthropic Mrs Bury - are more types than characters, but the overall effect is not dissimilar to a Richard Price novel, with a single crime used to expose a society's failings right up and down the social scale. This may not be Greeneland proper quite yet, but it's still a lot better than most writers ever manage.
April 4, 2019
This book is definitely a product of its time, because there are some central themes following communism and the imprisonment and impending execution of a man who killed a policeman because he thought the policeman was about to hit his wife. It’s very much a human story, and that’s when Greene is at his best, at least in my opinion.
Still, I struggled to engage with this one, at least for a little while. Perhaps it’s because the communist elements were so far removed from what I see in my own day-to-day life, but I think it’s more likely that the little bit of romance here was still too much for me. I would’ve preferred more political intrigue and less romance.
All in all though, I’m glad that I read this and it’s nice to be able to tick another Graham Greene book off the list of books that I want to read before I die. He’s a fantastic author and eventually I want to work through his entire catalogue. This was better than some and worse than others. Make of that what you will.
Still, I struggled to engage with this one, at least for a little while. Perhaps it’s because the communist elements were so far removed from what I see in my own day-to-day life, but I think it’s more likely that the little bit of romance here was still too much for me. I would’ve preferred more political intrigue and less romance.
All in all though, I’m glad that I read this and it’s nice to be able to tick another Graham Greene book off the list of books that I want to read before I die. He’s a fantastic author and eventually I want to work through his entire catalogue. This was better than some and worse than others. Make of that what you will.
June 6, 2012
I've really enjoyed some of Greene's other novels. Our Man in Havana was hilarious. The Quiet American was powerful. But this seemed to be a dry shell full of miserable characters. I shook it and I didn't like the sound of them all rattling around between the chapters. The only happiness found by the end of the story is a sort of sad, laughable satisfaction with a certain aspect of one's job. I'm not saying books need happy endings, but why is this novel so jam-packed with dysfunction? In all fairness, it is an interesting demonstration of how the most unlikely characters can all be connected by a single common acquaintance. But I was generally distracted from that by all bleakness they also had in common.
August 6, 2022
One of the lesser known of Graham Greene's novels i found this little gem in a secondhand bookshop in Adelaide. Despite not being as well known and as widely read as Greene's big masterpieces this is still a quality book.
The story starts off simply enough. A man named Drover is in prison waiting to be hanged for the murder of a police officer. The police officer was about to hit Drover's wife at a demonstration that had gone wrong and degenerated into violence. Drover is a communist.
All of this complicates things.
A motley cast of champagne socialists, unhappy women, jaded career men and others populate this novel.
I thoroughly enjoyed this book.
The story starts off simply enough. A man named Drover is in prison waiting to be hanged for the murder of a police officer. The police officer was about to hit Drover's wife at a demonstration that had gone wrong and degenerated into violence. Drover is a communist.
All of this complicates things.
A motley cast of champagne socialists, unhappy women, jaded career men and others populate this novel.
I thoroughly enjoyed this book.
Read
April 1, 2019 The execution of a communist centers this somewhat scattershot depiction of the existences of a number of repressed individuals in 1930’s London . One of Greene’s earlier works, his prose is already down, and he maintains a keen understanding of how politics and governments muddle with personal morality, but there are a few too many characters and the whole thing doesn’t come together as neatly as his later masterpieces.
June 20, 2020
One of Graham Greene's early novels, not his best, but sure signs of what was to follow, and certainly better than most novels that are published.
June 26, 2024
This is a relatively early (1934) book by Greene, and I think it is interesting for its variety of characters. I don’t think it’s ever safe to say what you think an author was “really thinking," but what I liked here was the portrayal of a “battlefield” of characters, some in conflict with one another, but mostly each fighting an inner conflict.
The plot centers on a bus driver, Jim Drover, who, while protecting his wife during a riot, has killed a policeman. Jim, one of a number of characters participating either whole heartedly or perfunctoriiy in the Communist labor movement of the time, has been convicted and condemned to death. Jim may be the least conflicted character in the story. We see very little of him — he seems actually at peace with his own fate and more worried about his wife, Milly. Milly is torn any number of ways, not least by her relationship with Jim’s brother, Conrad, who, in turn, fights an unwinnable battle to prove his manhood to Milly and to himself. Other characters fight for dignity, legitimacy, . . . trying to get themselves to become the persons they want to be rather than the persons they may settle to be.
One character, the Assistant Commissioner, fighting his own battle about whether to intervene in the fate of Jim, sums up the “battlefield”:
"Everybody’s too busy fighting his own little battle to think of the, the next man."
Not only are they too busy fighting their own battles to help each other, they are too busy to even fight with one another. And it doesn’t all add up to any sort of transcendent hope or faith — it’s just a collection of struggles within each person, each in their own way.
It doesn’t sound especially “happy”, but I liked the book exactly for that portrayal of inner struggle — it’s everyone’s life, seen from the inside. Of course you can’t help but suppose there is irony here -- that each is fighting an internal struggle in the context of outer struggles that could be the basis for inner victories.
The plot centers on a bus driver, Jim Drover, who, while protecting his wife during a riot, has killed a policeman. Jim, one of a number of characters participating either whole heartedly or perfunctoriiy in the Communist labor movement of the time, has been convicted and condemned to death. Jim may be the least conflicted character in the story. We see very little of him — he seems actually at peace with his own fate and more worried about his wife, Milly. Milly is torn any number of ways, not least by her relationship with Jim’s brother, Conrad, who, in turn, fights an unwinnable battle to prove his manhood to Milly and to himself. Other characters fight for dignity, legitimacy, . . . trying to get themselves to become the persons they want to be rather than the persons they may settle to be.
One character, the Assistant Commissioner, fighting his own battle about whether to intervene in the fate of Jim, sums up the “battlefield”:
"Everybody’s too busy fighting his own little battle to think of the, the next man."
Not only are they too busy fighting their own battles to help each other, they are too busy to even fight with one another. And it doesn’t all add up to any sort of transcendent hope or faith — it’s just a collection of struggles within each person, each in their own way.
It doesn’t sound especially “happy”, but I liked the book exactly for that portrayal of inner struggle — it’s everyone’s life, seen from the inside. Of course you can’t help but suppose there is irony here -- that each is fighting an internal struggle in the context of outer struggles that could be the basis for inner victories.
June 13, 2014
Graham Greene has given me a lot over the years. In terms of an entire body of work, rather than a particular stand-out novel, he is probably one of my favourite British authors. Whilst some authors produce a dazzling fully-formed debut, though, Greene strikes me as someone who spent a number of years learning his trade and slowly developing into the writer he would become, finally hitting a run of truly impressive form in the late 40s which continued until somewhere after The Honorary Consul. As such, I didn't expect too much from this early work. Still, when you've read and enjoyed the majority of a writer's work, it's exciting to stumble across one that you missed.
Only I hadn't missed it. I read this through without a flicker of recognition. Nothing. Only to find, on finishing, an alternative copy of this book sitting on my shelves. Now, it's possible that I may be developing some kind of early-onset dementia I suppose, but it does seem unlikely. Apart from occasionally misplacing the car keys, which is probably just more to do with being a man, the memory seems pretty sharp. I can remember what I had for breakfast this morning; even yesterday morning with a reasonable degree of confidence.
So I'm left with the conclusion that, whilst reasonably interesting and well-written enough, It's a Battlefield is just a bit, well, unmemorable.
Only I hadn't missed it. I read this through without a flicker of recognition. Nothing. Only to find, on finishing, an alternative copy of this book sitting on my shelves. Now, it's possible that I may be developing some kind of early-onset dementia I suppose, but it does seem unlikely. Apart from occasionally misplacing the car keys, which is probably just more to do with being a man, the memory seems pretty sharp. I can remember what I had for breakfast this morning; even yesterday morning with a reasonable degree of confidence.
So I'm left with the conclusion that, whilst reasonably interesting and well-written enough, It's a Battlefield is just a bit, well, unmemorable.
January 27, 2016
This battlefield comes equipped with judicial and political wrangling, bacon, melancholy, and extreme Britishness. Mmm, bacon.
March 17, 2020
It's life-a confusing cacophony crammed with caricatures.
October 29, 2025
Not his best entertainment, but readable if you are a G. Greene fan.
June 21, 2019
"Do you believe in the way the country is organized?" asks Caroline Bury in It's a Battlefield. She's a woman who's connected, who "had chosen to exercise her passion for charity" in the territory of politics. The story follows Caroline and others as they try to prevent a London bus driver named Jim Drover from hanging.
Graham Greene described the book as his 'first overtly political novel'. It was published in 1934, when Britain was experiencing the effects of the Great Depression. Although the story references unemployment and poverty, for example when the Assistant Commissioner considers that "the beggar did not beg because he would not work", it's not primarily concerned with them (check out Orwell's The Road to Wigan Pier for this). Instead, Greene claimed its theme is 'the injustice of man's justice'.
The Assistant Commissioner, perhaps the story's primary character, questions a justice system which allowed a company director convicted of income tax fraud to repay his debt at "twelve shillings in the pound to save [him] from bankruptcy, to save him from a nervous breakdown." In comparison "men who stole a little jewellery from a rich man's house" might go to gaol for five years, because laws, he says, are made to protect property.
The book also conjures up the experiences of working class females in a matchbox factory. Greene uses the same phrases with which he'd earlier written about life in prison, and the women come out worse. Certain prisoners "have certain privileges", "as many library books as they want", and "more butter with their bread", whereas the girls, from eight in the morning until six in the evening stood "between death and disfigurement, unemployment and the streets, between the cog-wheels and the shafting." They worked until they married, like Milly Drover, the condemned man's wife, who will have to return to the factory whatever happens to her husband. If his sentence is repealed she'll face 18 years waiting for him. Would it not be better if he were to hang?
It's all very bleak, apart from Kay Rimmer, Milly's sister, who was determined to have a good time whilst seeking a husband. I particularly enjoyed the episode where Jules takes her away for a night. Greene very briskly gets the sex scene out of the way: "He was with her, he was in her, he was away from her, brushing his hair before the glass, whistling a tune."
The writing style in the first chapter reminded me of Mrs. Dalloway in the way in which it follows individual characters as they travel around London between work, home and leisure, exposing their thoughts, worries and hopes. Greene opens a new section to clearly demarcate the shift from one character to another, although I was occasionally confused by the much too similar names of Conrad, the condemned man's brother, and Conder, the journalist.
This is the first time I've read It's a Battlefield, although in my early 20s I used to devour Graham Greene books. What attracted me to the author then was the way in which he juxtaposes religion (Catholicism) and communism, and this book did not disappoint. I re-read Stamboul Train last year and am now determined to tackle all his books again.
Graham Greene described the book as his 'first overtly political novel'. It was published in 1934, when Britain was experiencing the effects of the Great Depression. Although the story references unemployment and poverty, for example when the Assistant Commissioner considers that "the beggar did not beg because he would not work", it's not primarily concerned with them (check out Orwell's The Road to Wigan Pier for this). Instead, Greene claimed its theme is 'the injustice of man's justice'.
The Assistant Commissioner, perhaps the story's primary character, questions a justice system which allowed a company director convicted of income tax fraud to repay his debt at "twelve shillings in the pound to save [him] from bankruptcy, to save him from a nervous breakdown." In comparison "men who stole a little jewellery from a rich man's house" might go to gaol for five years, because laws, he says, are made to protect property.
The book also conjures up the experiences of working class females in a matchbox factory. Greene uses the same phrases with which he'd earlier written about life in prison, and the women come out worse. Certain prisoners "have certain privileges", "as many library books as they want", and "more butter with their bread", whereas the girls, from eight in the morning until six in the evening stood "between death and disfigurement, unemployment and the streets, between the cog-wheels and the shafting." They worked until they married, like Milly Drover, the condemned man's wife, who will have to return to the factory whatever happens to her husband. If his sentence is repealed she'll face 18 years waiting for him. Would it not be better if he were to hang?
It's all very bleak, apart from Kay Rimmer, Milly's sister, who was determined to have a good time whilst seeking a husband. I particularly enjoyed the episode where Jules takes her away for a night. Greene very briskly gets the sex scene out of the way: "He was with her, he was in her, he was away from her, brushing his hair before the glass, whistling a tune."
The writing style in the first chapter reminded me of Mrs. Dalloway in the way in which it follows individual characters as they travel around London between work, home and leisure, exposing their thoughts, worries and hopes. Greene opens a new section to clearly demarcate the shift from one character to another, although I was occasionally confused by the much too similar names of Conrad, the condemned man's brother, and Conder, the journalist.
This is the first time I've read It's a Battlefield, although in my early 20s I used to devour Graham Greene books. What attracted me to the author then was the way in which he juxtaposes religion (Catholicism) and communism, and this book did not disappoint. I re-read Stamboul Train last year and am now determined to tackle all his books again.
April 7, 2026
is the fifth book Graham Greene published and, according to noted Greene scholar Brian Diemert, it is considered perhaps the best novel of his to come out in the 1930s. Given that this is the same decade that saw A Gun for Sale and Brighton Rock reach print, that is a pretty bold claim to make. My own evaluation was probably somewhat more measured than Diemert’s, but I did very much enjoy reading this far more than his earlier handful of books. It’s for me probably the first that feels like Greene almost coming into his own. Not to say that it’s quite classic Greene just yet. It’s still too sprawling. Too unfocused. Too unfunny. Altogether, as well, just too didactic at times, I think. And for a brisk 200-odd page book, it contains an awful lot of characters and dead-ends plots that the mature Greene would ruthlessly exorcise. For all that though, this book feels like a Greene novel in the way that his earlier books just didn’t quite ever manage.
This was also, this time according to Greene himself, his ‘first overtly political novel’. Though exactly what he might have meant by politics here is probably a bit open for debate. Certainly, it is the first of his novels to deal with people who follow an overt political creed, given that we spend a good chunk of this novel with people who can be someone generously called communists. Greene himself was for a brief period in time a member of the British Communist Party himself although apparently more of a dilettantish fad rather than a firm commitment to its values. Though, by this time Greene started writing It’s a Battlefield in the 1930s he was more-or-less a conventional leftist liberal and also seemed increasingly cynical about any sort of wide-eyed idealism within politics at all. So then, the politics of this novel seem to mostly consist of a sour take on the motivations of a series of people who call themselves communists for a variety of self-serving reasons and have created a party that simply reproduces much of the inertia and bureaucratic hierarchical of the state of affairs they oppose. That said, Greene is fortunately too honest a novelist to not focus on the grim material conditions of his characters in depression-era London as well and the way that they might just inspire people to imagine a Utopian alternative. It’s a Battlefield is, if nothing else, an interesting attempt at a panoramic exploration of grimy London in tough times and the forms of desperation that such an existence can engender.
The centre point of the story relates to the communist bus driver Jim Drover, who is never actually present in the narrative himself, but whose absence haunts all the plotlines throughout. Prior to the start of the novel, Drover stabbed a police officer who was just getting set to assault his beloved wife Milly in the midst of a demonstration that was getting out of hand. He’s due to hang for this crime, naturally, except that in the politically-charged atmosphere the Home Secretary is considering offering him a reprieve as a gesture that he hopes might settle down current simmering tensions. A certain unnamed assistant commissioner of the metropolitan police, a man recently returned from the East and still finding his footing back in a Great Britain now somewhat alien to him, is given the task of putting together a report to pass judgement on the matter despite his more-substantial engagement with another sensational and violent set of crimes. Meanwhile, people affiliated with the communist party also seek to turn Drover’s situation to their own ends: people like the slimy theorist Surrogate who loves “the lovely abstractions of Communism” but is “rattled and betrayed by the individuality of men” and sees in Drover’s execution only the symbolic potential to drive a greater mass movement; or another rival leader in the party, Bennett, who seems no point in spending political capital assisting a single comrade when they ought to have bigger things on their mind; neither one, in short, has much assistance to offer their loyal but imprisoned member. Meanwhile, the fantasist Conder, a journalist "dissatisfied with his pay, his profession, and his life”, sees in it instead all the potential for one of the human-interest stories he specialises in; and the extroverted Jules just seems caught up in the adventure of being part of a crowd gathered with collective purpose. Drover’s brother Conrad, a striving head-clerk who’s battled his way out of the dregs of society, at the same time tries to negotiate through his own feelings of desire towards his brother’s lonely wife as well as the fact that he has already betrayed his own class roots in becoming a respectable part of the bourgeoisie order. And then there’s Milly herself, aware that even in the best case scenario she faces an eighteen-years separation from the man that she loves, as she desperately attempts to drum up any support that she’s able for her husband while also with a certain working-class fatalism pragmatically considering the prospect of a future without him.
So although Greene himself considered this a political work, it really feels like the territory he covers is something more familiar and personal than that. Greene after all built his reputation on his ability to depict flawed but endearing characters in ruthless but sympathetic detail. With both the Assistant Commissioner and Conrad, Greene has found the sort of unsettled characters that he’d spend his mature works dissecting. The Assistant Commissioner is an archetypal embodiment of the disinterested role of the law, who sees his own work as being “simply to preserve the existing order…” and happy to “leave justice to magistrates, to judges and juries, to members of Parliament, to the Home Secretary.” But he is also someone who sees the country of his birth now with an anthropological eye as the following sort of passage depict:
The sense of displacement, along with the traditional liberty offered the literary detective to serve as the audience’s bridge between the various loci of society. The Assistant Commissioner himself is a fully-fleshed character who works allegorically as an embodiment of enlightenment values while retaining his sense of being a cohesive character. His interactions with Conrad, the novel’s embodiment of raw libidinal impulses and only a revolutionary figure by virtue of his surplus guilt and anger at the treatment of his brother. His attempt at justice ends with a whisper rather than a bang
I think where Greene stumbles a bit with this novel is in his apparent desire to depict London in all its polyvocal glory. He’s attempting to set up, I think, a glimpse at what George Lukacs would call the totality of the period. As such, the narrative shifts between bourgeois dining rooms and literary salons as well as the shabby boarding houses and factories and exploitation on which it relies. However, because it most often is in the guise of different characters, I don’t think you quite get the sense of how everything interacts all together. The fragmentation of the different plotlines serves a formal purpose in its reflection of a capitalist state that has become overly chaotic in the contradictions of the depression and now impossible to navigate, yes, but the battleground of depression-era London dissolves into a foggy mess by the end. An interesting experiment indeed, and a sign of the mature talent to come, but not quite good Graham Greene just yet.
This was also, this time according to Greene himself, his ‘first overtly political novel’. Though exactly what he might have meant by politics here is probably a bit open for debate. Certainly, it is the first of his novels to deal with people who follow an overt political creed, given that we spend a good chunk of this novel with people who can be someone generously called communists. Greene himself was for a brief period in time a member of the British Communist Party himself although apparently more of a dilettantish fad rather than a firm commitment to its values. Though, by this time Greene started writing It’s a Battlefield in the 1930s he was more-or-less a conventional leftist liberal and also seemed increasingly cynical about any sort of wide-eyed idealism within politics at all. So then, the politics of this novel seem to mostly consist of a sour take on the motivations of a series of people who call themselves communists for a variety of self-serving reasons and have created a party that simply reproduces much of the inertia and bureaucratic hierarchical of the state of affairs they oppose. That said, Greene is fortunately too honest a novelist to not focus on the grim material conditions of his characters in depression-era London as well and the way that they might just inspire people to imagine a Utopian alternative. It’s a Battlefield is, if nothing else, an interesting attempt at a panoramic exploration of grimy London in tough times and the forms of desperation that such an existence can engender.
The centre point of the story relates to the communist bus driver Jim Drover, who is never actually present in the narrative himself, but whose absence haunts all the plotlines throughout. Prior to the start of the novel, Drover stabbed a police officer who was just getting set to assault his beloved wife Milly in the midst of a demonstration that was getting out of hand. He’s due to hang for this crime, naturally, except that in the politically-charged atmosphere the Home Secretary is considering offering him a reprieve as a gesture that he hopes might settle down current simmering tensions. A certain unnamed assistant commissioner of the metropolitan police, a man recently returned from the East and still finding his footing back in a Great Britain now somewhat alien to him, is given the task of putting together a report to pass judgement on the matter despite his more-substantial engagement with another sensational and violent set of crimes. Meanwhile, people affiliated with the communist party also seek to turn Drover’s situation to their own ends: people like the slimy theorist Surrogate who loves “the lovely abstractions of Communism” but is “rattled and betrayed by the individuality of men” and sees in Drover’s execution only the symbolic potential to drive a greater mass movement; or another rival leader in the party, Bennett, who seems no point in spending political capital assisting a single comrade when they ought to have bigger things on their mind; neither one, in short, has much assistance to offer their loyal but imprisoned member. Meanwhile, the fantasist Conder, a journalist "dissatisfied with his pay, his profession, and his life”, sees in it instead all the potential for one of the human-interest stories he specialises in; and the extroverted Jules just seems caught up in the adventure of being part of a crowd gathered with collective purpose. Drover’s brother Conrad, a striving head-clerk who’s battled his way out of the dregs of society, at the same time tries to negotiate through his own feelings of desire towards his brother’s lonely wife as well as the fact that he has already betrayed his own class roots in becoming a respectable part of the bourgeoisie order. And then there’s Milly herself, aware that even in the best case scenario she faces an eighteen-years separation from the man that she loves, as she desperately attempts to drum up any support that she’s able for her husband while also with a certain working-class fatalism pragmatically considering the prospect of a future without him.
So although Greene himself considered this a political work, it really feels like the territory he covers is something more familiar and personal than that. Greene after all built his reputation on his ability to depict flawed but endearing characters in ruthless but sympathetic detail. With both the Assistant Commissioner and Conrad, Greene has found the sort of unsettled characters that he’d spend his mature works dissecting. The Assistant Commissioner is an archetypal embodiment of the disinterested role of the law, who sees his own work as being “simply to preserve the existing order…” and happy to “leave justice to magistrates, to judges and juries, to members of Parliament, to the Home Secretary.” But he is also someone who sees the country of his birth now with an anthropological eye as the following sort of passage depict:
“…the Assistant Commissioner wondered, as he often wondered, at the beauty of the young tinted faces. Their owners handed over pennies for packets of fried chips, they stood in queues for the cheapest seats at the cinemas, and through the dust and dark and degradation they giggled and chattered like birds. They were poor, they were overworked, they had no future, but they knew the right tilt of a béret, the correct shade of lipstick.”
The sense of displacement, along with the traditional liberty offered the literary detective to serve as the audience’s bridge between the various loci of society. The Assistant Commissioner himself is a fully-fleshed character who works allegorically as an embodiment of enlightenment values while retaining his sense of being a cohesive character. His interactions with Conrad, the novel’s embodiment of raw libidinal impulses and only a revolutionary figure by virtue of his surplus guilt and anger at the treatment of his brother. His attempt at justice ends with a whisper rather than a bang
I think where Greene stumbles a bit with this novel is in his apparent desire to depict London in all its polyvocal glory. He’s attempting to set up, I think, a glimpse at what George Lukacs would call the totality of the period. As such, the narrative shifts between bourgeois dining rooms and literary salons as well as the shabby boarding houses and factories and exploitation on which it relies. However, because it most often is in the guise of different characters, I don’t think you quite get the sense of how everything interacts all together. The fragmentation of the different plotlines serves a formal purpose in its reflection of a capitalist state that has become overly chaotic in the contradictions of the depression and now impossible to navigate, yes, but the battleground of depression-era London dissolves into a foggy mess by the end. An interesting experiment indeed, and a sign of the mature talent to come, but not quite good Graham Greene just yet.
July 10, 2020
I've been enjoying the books of English author Graham Greene. It's a Battlefield, originally published in 1934, was Greene's 5th published novel. The story centers a number of characters trying to get Jim Drover, a Communist bus-driver's, sentence commuted from the death penalty to imprisonment for 18 years. Drover killed a police officer who was attempting to strike Drover's wife during a Communist demonstration. Drover has been found guilty and been sentenced to death.
The story follows the police Assistant commissioner, new to his job, who is exploring his recommendation about whether to suggest the commutation to the Home Secretary. There is also Mr. Surrogate a Communist economist trying to persuade a wealthy friend to do her best to get the sentence commuted. Surrogate also had personal relations with Kay, Drover's sister-in-law, who wants to help but also just wants to enjoy herself. There is Conrad Drover, Jim Drover's brother, who loves his brothers wife and is filled with self-rage. There is Drover's wife, Milly, lost without her husband, trying to do anything to save her husband.
These are the main characters and the story jumps from one to another, their interactions and their own personal lives and issues. It's an interesting, well-written story. In some ways it leaves as many questions unanswered as answered and the final incident is quite unique. I enjoy Greene's stories and each is different in its own right. (4 stars)
The story follows the police Assistant commissioner, new to his job, who is exploring his recommendation about whether to suggest the commutation to the Home Secretary. There is also Mr. Surrogate a Communist economist trying to persuade a wealthy friend to do her best to get the sentence commuted. Surrogate also had personal relations with Kay, Drover's sister-in-law, who wants to help but also just wants to enjoy herself. There is Conrad Drover, Jim Drover's brother, who loves his brothers wife and is filled with self-rage. There is Drover's wife, Milly, lost without her husband, trying to do anything to save her husband.
These are the main characters and the story jumps from one to another, their interactions and their own personal lives and issues. It's an interesting, well-written story. In some ways it leaves as many questions unanswered as answered and the final incident is quite unique. I enjoy Greene's stories and each is different in its own right. (4 stars)
November 1, 2017
While I will stress that a reader should be acquainted with four or five other Graham Greene novels before taking this in, I think any reader will agree that the Assistant Commissioner is a three-dimensional character. The book is at its best when he is in it.
Greene is still finding himself here. IT'S A BATTLEFIELD was published in 1934, and Greene lived (and wrote) until the early 1990s. There are vivid descriptions of buildings, but Greene's famous sense of place is still a bit fuzzy here. It's London, but even with the mention of Trafslfar Square and Piccadilly Circus, Greene isn't guiding the reader through a sense of place, and this is unusual. A typical Graham Greene novel has the effect of relief map. But a scene in a high-end gun shop is wonderfully realized.
Greene's sense of Britain's class system is, perhaps, never better than in IT'S A BATTLEFIELD.
There are a few plot threads here which lack conclusions. This is rather unusual for Greene. He has other novels in which he makes short work of a plot thread or a character, but one doesn't sense that he's not bothered to complete those brief threads and character studies. Here, I have to say, he has left too much unfinished.
This does NOT mean he is doing a rush job. On the contrary, he is making deliberate choices, if unsatisfactory ones. On the whole, though, this is a well-realized book with a lot to say about its era.
Greene is still finding himself here. IT'S A BATTLEFIELD was published in 1934, and Greene lived (and wrote) until the early 1990s. There are vivid descriptions of buildings, but Greene's famous sense of place is still a bit fuzzy here. It's London, but even with the mention of Trafslfar Square and Piccadilly Circus, Greene isn't guiding the reader through a sense of place, and this is unusual. A typical Graham Greene novel has the effect of relief map. But a scene in a high-end gun shop is wonderfully realized.
Greene's sense of Britain's class system is, perhaps, never better than in IT'S A BATTLEFIELD.
There are a few plot threads here which lack conclusions. This is rather unusual for Greene. He has other novels in which he makes short work of a plot thread or a character, but one doesn't sense that he's not bothered to complete those brief threads and character studies. Here, I have to say, he has left too much unfinished.
This does NOT mean he is doing a rush job. On the contrary, he is making deliberate choices, if unsatisfactory ones. On the whole, though, this is a well-realized book with a lot to say about its era.
March 16, 2020
‘It’s a Battlefield’. Life is a struggle. It is a struggle to find meaning and purpose for one’s life. Caroline an old woman with whom the Assistant Commissioner dines in the last chapter struggles to help her fellow man; she senses the government is incapable of lifting all but knows they are incapable; she has determined that since there is going to be misery all should share in it equally; she understands that there is no big, great light but just tiny bright spots. Where does she find find her hope? She finds it in her faith; it allows her to perform her role, even as ineffectual as it seems. The story is told in a rather obtuse manner, the lighting seems rather gray, just like the characters lives/purpose. Where do I put my trust? My job, my bank account, my beauty, my neighbor, my government, my God? 4 stars, recommended reading for those who enjoy reflecting on the forest while studying a tree or two.
June 29, 2020
This is sad. It’s the 5th novel by Greene that I have read – in this chronological order – and I hate it. If I didn’t already know that there are some excellent novels ahead, I would immediately quit this quixotic adventure as a very bad idea.
The story is a confused mishmash about Drover, a bus driver and apparently a member of the Communist party, who has killed a policeman. Drover’s brother, Conrad, is introduced and ends up dead, after trying to shoot the weird police commissioner. The fact is, you really don’t care about any of the characters.
The whole story is a mess. Greene continues his irritating style of mixing reality with some kind of dream sequences, so that you have virtually no idea of what is real and what is fantasy. The interior dialogue is annoying.
I know there are better things coming – but you could not predict it from this novel.
The story is a confused mishmash about Drover, a bus driver and apparently a member of the Communist party, who has killed a policeman. Drover’s brother, Conrad, is introduced and ends up dead, after trying to shoot the weird police commissioner. The fact is, you really don’t care about any of the characters.
The whole story is a mess. Greene continues his irritating style of mixing reality with some kind of dream sequences, so that you have virtually no idea of what is real and what is fantasy. The interior dialogue is annoying.
I know there are better things coming – but you could not predict it from this novel.
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