I have a lot to say about this.
First of all, I hated him. I know I shouldn’t think about it in modern terms, it was the 1910s after all, but still... jeez, what a guy. First of all - I didn’t buy it. Maybe he really did love her that much, but I suspect the writing and receiving of letters were more of a game/entertainment for a bored and horny soldier slash poet. Plus she sends him all kinds of expensive shit to which he says “thank you for your gifts, here’s an old bullet I found on a field, hope you like it”. Second of all - ouch that was toxic. I’m not even sure I want to unpack all of this, but that guy is really creepy at times. Maybe in French it doesn’t sound that harsh, but calling her a slave multiple times in one letter was surely cringe-worthy. I’m also laughing a bit because all those loving and erotic long letters stopped once he met her again (I know, war, but let’s face it, he clearly changed his attitude). Also, he just stopped writing, married another woman (what the fuck, their love supposed to be eternal?) and died of influenza (not his fault but what a rollercoaster of an ending). I also cannot stop thinking about how accurately the whole story translates to modern terms - he’s asking for her nudes photos all the time, sexts her and asks to sext him back, because war, you know, he’s very bored, and finally ghosts her, big time. And finally - he’s a terrible poet. Lemme treat you to this magnificent line:
Your breasts are the only bullets I love*
Call me uncultured, but I refuse to find something even remotely romantic about his letters. The story, however, is beautiful, and some of the letters are too. I would love to read her letters to paint the whole picture, because I am pretty certain she must have been like ew, what? most of the time.
(*loosely translated from Polish to English by me)