Berezina: From Moscow to Paris Following Napoleon’s Epic Fail

by Sylvain Tesson, Katherine Gregor (Translator)

Lire Magazine Best Travel Book

Take four friends, put them on two Ural motorcycles (complete with sidecars), send them off on a 2,500-mile odyssey retracing history's most famous retreat, add what some might consider an excessive amount of Vodka, and you've got Sylvain Tesson's Berezina, a riotous and erudite book that combines travel, history, comradery, and adventure.

The retreat of Napoleon's Grande Arm�e from Russia culminated, after a humiliating loss, with the crossing of the River Berezina, a word that henceforth became synonymous with unmitigated disaster for the French and national pride for the Russians. Two hundred years after this battle, Sylvain Tesson and his friends retrace Napoleon's retreat, along the way reflecting on the lessons of history, the meaning of defeat, and the realities of contemporary Europe. A great read for history buffs and for anyone who has ever dreamed of an adventure that is out of the ordinary.

Genres: Travel, Nonfiction, History, Russia, France, French Literature, Adventure

224 pages, Kindle Edition

First published January 22, 2015

About the author

Sylvain Tesson est le fils de Marie-Claude et Philippe Tesson et le frère de la comédienne Stéphanie Tesson et de la journaliste d'art Daphné Tesson.

Géographe de formation, il effectue en 1993 un tour du monde à bicyclette avec Alexandre Poussin avec qui il traverse l'Himalaya à pied en 1997. Il traverse également les steppes d'Asie centrale à cheval avec la photographe et compagne Priscilla Telmon, sur plus de 3 000 km du Kazakhstan à l'Ouzbékistan. En 2004, il reprend l'itinéraire des évadés du goulag en suivant le récit de Sławomir Rawicz : The Long Walk (1955)1. Ce périple l'emmène de la Sibérie jusqu'en Inde à pied.
Sylvain était également un « escaladeur de cathédrales » et au sein d'un cercle d'acrobates on le surnommait « le prince des chats », tandis qu'il escaladait Notre-Dame de Paris, le Mont-Saint-Michel, l'église Sainte Clotilde et d'autres monuments (principalement des églises) à Orléans, Argentan, Reims, Amiens ou encore Anvers.
En 2010, après avoir fait allusion à ce projet de nombreuses fois, Sylvain Tesson passe six mois en ermite dans une cabane au sud de la Sibérie, sur les bords du lac Baïkal, non loin d'Irkoutsk. Selon ses propres dires : « Recette du bonheur : une fenêtre sur le Baïkal, une table devant la fenêtre ».

Il voyage la plupart du temps par ses propres moyens, c'est-à-dire sans le soutien de la technique moderne, en totale autonomie. Ses expéditions sont financées par la réalisation de documentaires, par des cycles de conférences et par la vente de ses récits d'expédition.

Il écrit également des nouvelles. Il signe de nombreuses préfaces et commentaires de films. Il collabore à diverses revues. On peut retrouver ses bloc-notes chaque mois dans le magazine Grands reportages. Depuis 2004, il multiplie les reportages pour Le Figaro Magazine avec le photographe Thomas Goisque et le peintre Bertrand de Miollis. Il signe plusieurs documentaires pour la chaîne France 5.
Il obtient le prix Goncourt de la Nouvelle en 2009, pour Une vie à coucher dehors (éditions Gallimard, 2009) et le prix Médicis essai en 2011 pour Dans les forêts de Sibérie.

Source : Wikipedia

Reviews

[Thomas · Rating 4 out of 5]

4 stars.
This is the story of a wild adventure. Three Frenchmen and two Russians decide to recreate Napoleon 's retreat from Moscow on the 200th anniversary of the brutal winter retreat. They do this on vintage USSR Ural motorcycles. They suffer in the bone chilling Russian winter, but do make the complete trip to Paris. They stop at historic battlefield sites and graveyards. They drink copious amounts of vodka every night along the way.
One quote: "Cold is a ferocious beast. It grabs you by a limb, sinks its teeth into it, doesn't let go, and its venom gradually spreads through your being."
Thanks to the author and Europa editions for sending me this book through NetGalley.
#Berezina #NetGalley

[P.E. · Rating 4 out of 5]

Grandeur et misère de l'homme.


L'épopée loufoque de Sylvain Tesson parti avec deux amis et accompagné de deux connaissances russes, qui se propose de suivre la piste de la retraite de Russie, de Moscou jusqu'à Paris... en moto soviétique Oural à side-car.

Sur la route, les réflexions fusent sur le rôle ambivalent de Napoléon, sur la différence entre les motifs d'existence que se donnent les hommes et les sociétés à 200 ans d'écart.

Très loin de former un hommage béat à l'empereur Napoléon Bonaparte, ce livre met en lumière les atrocités des guerres napoléoniennes, les souffrances humaines et animales inouïes, la petitesse des généraux et des hommes, mais également une certaine forme de grandeur dans leur capacité à concourir à la réalisation d'une grande légende commune.

Chemin faisant, l'occasion est trop belle pour se priver de remarques mordantes sur les principes et les politiques qui gouvernent les nations européennes, aujourd'hui.


Cabaret :
Le Chant du départ (1794)

[Roman Clodia · Rating 4 out of 5]

We have repeated the itinerary of the Grande Armée during its Retreat from Russia in 1812 on our three Soviet motorbikes with sidecars.

I'm not usually a reader of travel literature but this has an intriguing premise as three Frenchman and two Russians set out to follow the route of Napoleon's retreat from Moscow. Tesson is such an entertaining companion: thoughtful, funny, informative, as he intersperses their journey with accounts they're reading of the French army's experience via contemporary memoirs. Some bits are horrific: the starvation of the army culminating in eating the cavalry horses, cannibalism and even autophagy (according to the sources). Other parts are more amusing as our travellers get drunk, their bikes break down and they party unwisely en route.

At heart, though, this is a duel journey through Europe and the thought of Napoleon and his devoted army raises questions about community, unity, and whether or what we might believe in today: 'What had happened for a nation to become an aggregate of individuals convinced they had nothing in common with others? Shopping, perhaps?... For many of us, buying had become a principal activity, a horizon, a destination.'

This partly works, I think, because Tesson keeps it short and sharp - at just under 200 pages, this is entertaining but also with more substance than might at first appear.

Another excellent offering from Europa Editions who are rapidly becoming one of my 'read everything they put out' publishers - many thanks for an ARC via NetGalley.

[Left Coast Justin · Rating 2 out of 5]

My current fascination with Eastern Europe continues. For the first time since the COVID outbreak, I visited an actual bookstore a couple of weeks back and found this book, about which I knew nothing. It was a short book that felt long, though it did have some good moments.

Three French guys living in Russia and two bona-fide Russians with an interest in history decided to travel the same route taken by the thoroughly-whipped Grande Armee of Napoleon from Moscow to Paris. I groaned inwardly when the author related his plans to do so on old Soviet motorcycles with sidecars, and to wear old bicorn hats whenever they weren't helmeted for their trip. Oh, yay, 2500 miles in the company of men who really haven't grown up, and consider themselves impossibly cutting-edge and funny.

I had, and still have, almost no interest in Napoleon or the wars he launched. Russia, Belarus and Poland, as such, aren't really part of the story here, but merely provide background for part of the trip. This book is far more concerned about the past than the present; not in itself a bad thing, but not what I had been hoping for. What really bothered me were the crude, clumsy attempts to "sell the story" and make it more interesting through blatant exaggeration. Did the retreating French soldiers suffer horribly during the retreat? Undoubtedly. Did they eat their own fingers out of hunger? Somehow, I doubt this practice caught on in any significant numbers, if it ever occurred at all.

He did get in some amusing lines and good observations, though. If this historic episode is of interest to you, you might really enjoy the book. But I was not the right audience, I'm afraid.

[Sandra · Rating 4 out of 5]

“Un luogo sacro è un luogo geografico fecondato dalle lacrime della Storia. Quando la terra beve troppo sangue diventa un luogo sacro, allora bisogna guardarla in silenzio perché è popolata di fantasmi”


Un documento di viaggio sulla strada della storia. Lo scrittore, insieme ad alcuni amici russi, ripercorre le strade della Grande Armata nella ritirata da Mosca nel 1812. Lo scrittore è francese ed è di parte in maniera evidente, è un ammiratore di Napoleone ed ogni battaglia franco-russa non è mai una disfatta per l’esercito francese, è sempre un pareggio: tanti morti di qua, tanti morti di là. Alla fine però il bilancio è terrificante, in pratica una carneficina.
Nonostante la drammaticità estrema dei racconti lasciati da chi accompagnava l’imperatore ed è sopravvissuto, il libro è una lettura piacevole perché alterna ai ricordi della Storia, sulle cui orme è emozionante camminare, l’attualità del viaggio in sidecar russi modello Ural con attaccata sul parabrezza la bandiera francese, le soste in locande lungo la strada per rifocillarsi e riscaldarsi con ottima vodka, le chiacchiere tra amici e anche le tante riflessioni, come quella sul viaggiare nell’incertezza della meta, come è accaduto agli uomini della Grande Armata, disperati, affamati, assiderati e privi di qualsiasi riferimento spaziale, in un territorio sempre uguale, brullo e innevato, gelido e senza ripari, senza la speranza della terra promessa.

[Anina e gambette di pollo · Rating 3 out of 5]

A Tesson piacciono i viaggi insoliti, scomodi e soprattutto in Asia.
In occasione del bicentenario della Ritirata di Russia parte da Mosca con due amici francesi e due russi che li raggiungeranno appena aggiustate le moto.
Perché partono con moto e sidecar della Ural, usate e anzianotte. non molta velocità ma che si possono aggiustare con una chiave. Niente elettronica.
Partenza il 2 dicembre, da Mosca verso Borodino.
Non è un libro di “viaggi”: non dà alcuna indicazione utile, le strade sono secondarie, il mezzo di trasporto è scomodo, le condizioni meteo vivamente sconsigliate.
E’ il racconto di due ritorni: uno quello dell’autore e i suoi amici, l’altro quello della Grande Armata. La meta finale è la Francia.

Ma mentre i cinque motociclisti ci sono arrivati tutti interi (comprese le moto, anche se rattoppate qua e là) a forza di vodka e zuppe di cavolo, la Grande Armata passò di vittoria in vittoria (nessuna totalmente vinta) fino al suo totale annientamento.

22.10.2016

[Myriam · Rating 4 out of 5]

'Vanaf de onafzienbare vlakte doorsneden door bossen was de andere oever te zien, tot ver oostwaarts. Een zandig dalletje, waardoor aardlagen strepen trokken, liep door het landschap, van noord naar zuid. De strata van leem en klei lagen als lichtgekleurde aderen in de door aanslibbing ontstane glooiing. In de diepte de Berezina. Een vriendelijke, kronkelige stroom waarvan de meanders de weerschijn van kwikzilver hadden. Het water was gestold door de vorst en de bochten slingerden zich tussen eilandjes begroeid met riet. De zon brak door de sneeuwwolken die werden voortgeblazen door de wind. Stralen overspoelden de wilgen die groeiden op de zandbanken. De berken kleurden paars in dit licht. Het leek of de huizen van het dorp warmte zochten bij elkaar, langs de rand van het dal. Raven roeiden met zwarte slagen door het beeld. Hun klagelijk gekras daalde neer samen met de sneeuw. Verder was de wereld niets dan diepe stilte. We keken gretig. Het was het theater van de apocalyps en het zag er zo lieflijk uit.
(...)
Gras legde zijn hand op mijn arm. "Dit hier is een verheven plek, joh."
"Wat is dat, een verheven plek?" zei ik.
"Een verheven plek," zei hij, "is een geografische morgen land beïnvloed door de tranen van de geschiedenis, een stuk grond geheiligd door een daad, vervloekt door een tragedie, een terrein dat door de eeuwen heen nog steeds de nagalm uitzendt van het lijden waarover wordt gezwegen en van de triomfen uit het verleden. Een landschap gezegend door bloed en tranen. Je staat ervoor, en opeens voel je een aanwezigheid, iets wat naar boven komt, iets ondefinieerbaars dat zich manifesteert. Het is de nagalm van de geschiedenis, de fossiele uitstraling van een gebeurtenis die opwelt uit de grond, als een golf. Hier heeft zich zo'n diepe tragedie afgespeeld, in zo'n kort tijdsbestek, dat de geografie zich er niet van heeft hersteld. De bomen zijn weer gaan groeien, maar de aarde lijdt nog steeds. Wanneer ze te veel bloed drinkt, wordt ze een verheven plek. Daarom moeten we stil naar haar kijken want ze wordt bezocht door de schimmen."'

[Audrey Martel · Rating 5 out of 5]

J'aime cet homme ! Dans Berezina, il se révèle à la fois drôle et pessimiste, tandis qu'il parcours à dos de moto Oural le trajet historique de la retraite de Napoléon. C'est sur plus de 4000 km, reliant Moscou et Paris que Tesson réfléchi à la notion de projet commun, de nation et de héros, en profitant de l'occasion pour nous faire toute une leçon d'Histoire.

Tesson, un auteur à découvrir !

[Cynthia · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is a trip! Three French guys and two Russians re-create Napoleon's awful and deadly retreat from Moscow to Paris in 1812. This time, the trip is made on Russian motorcycles with sidecars. The author and his friends have a wry sense of humor, and much the tone is off-beat and a little zany (in a good way). But the group is also thoughtful and reflective of the horrors of war, stopping to paid tribute to the thousands of men (and horses) who died gut-wrenching deaths in the devastating cold of the French Army's retreat.

A quick read, this book moves along at a nice pace. I read it in two sittings. Translated from the French, the syntax may seem a bit odd to American readers, but you get used to it. It's very French (also in a good way). Highly recommended for those who like good travel stories.

[Jovi Ene · Rating 3 out of 5]

Împreună cu patru prieteni - doi francezi și doi ruși, Sylvain Tesson pleacă, în iarna anului 2012, într-o călătorie cu motociclete cu ataș pe ruta Moscova-Paris. Dincolo de trăirile momentului (destul de puține în economia cărții), acest drum este o reconstituire, foarte bine documentată, a suferințelor marii armate a lui Napoleon la retragerea forțată din 1812, chinuită de frig, foamete și hărțuirile cazacilor comandați de Kutuzov. Așadar, o plimbare plină de istorie prin Rusia, Belarus, Polonia, Germania și Franța.

[David · Rating 4 out of 5]

If the guys who made the TV show/movie Jackass wrote a book peppered with references to Journey to the End of the Night and Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values, this might be the result.

This is a translated (from French) entry into what I think of as an English (meaning, often penned by people from England) genre, which I will dub Short Books about Extremely Ill-advised Travel. Other entries in this genre include Into the Heart of Borneo and The Places in Between.

(This is, as far as I can tell, an exclusively male genre. The reason, I think, can be adequately summed up by the guy who created the popular yellow pill-shaped animated film creatures called Minions. When asked why there were no female minions, he reportedly replied, "I just can't imagine women behaving that stupidly.")

Even under the best conditions, the trip -- following the trail of Napoleon's retreat from Moscow to Paris, riding Soviet-era motorcycles with sidecar -- would be unwise, and our intrepid heroes did not have the best conditions. For example, you might think, to maintain the connection with the original event, the book's heroes might have chosen to leave Moscow at about the same time of year as Napoleon's Grand Army did so (mid-October).

Readers may recall that, even though the French army left relatively early in the winter, the trip was deadly for most who embarked on it.

But the heroes of the contemporary journey are, like many of us, prisoners of their commercial obligations, so cannot actually depart Moscow until the end of November, when the Moscow Book Fair is over. Although our 21st-century protagonists generally have better clothing and footware that Napoleon's soldiers, they are still woefully unprepared for the mud-splattered hardships of the post-Soviet road.

However, even Soviet-era motorcycles move faster than Napoleon's retreating army, so eventually the heroes of this book appear at certain historically important places on the same date as the French army.

Since the book's table of contents gives ample evidence that the travellers reached their destination, I don't think it's a spoiler to say that the potentially deadly highways of Europe left the heroes with only emotional scars.

The book is well-translated. The author seems to have a talent for a well-turned phrase but I also enjoyed the moments when the differences between the norms of English-language and French-language rhetoric popped up.

For example, Tesson can apparently use the word "vulgar" without irony or self-consciousness, as when he writes "Vodka is at least as effective as hope. And so much less vulgar" (Kindle location 144) and "He considered foresight vulgar" (location 434).

Once in a while I quibbled with sentence structure, or perhaps sentence length, for example:

... he displayed his knowledge of the country, his foresight, and his tactical genius to try and find a solution for the Grande Armee and, at the same time, the courage and coolness of a Muscovite girl.

What? He displayed his knowledge of the character of Muscovite schoolgirls? Was that really relevant? And how did he acquire this knowledge? Or maybe he had to find a solution for the courage and coolness of a Muscovite girl? One shudders to ponder why.

Upon rereading, I think I understand that the man in question displayed four qualities: knowledge of country, foresight, tactical genius, and courage. But I had to read that sentence several times before I came to that conclusion.

As an American, I've read a truckload of books that treated the rest of the world like it didn't exist and assumed that the American experience is the same as everyone else's. I even recently read a book that narrowed the Universe of things worth paying attention to further, down to New York City only. However, I don't often get a chance to read something written by a French person that assumes the whole world's experience is exactly like the experience of the French, so it was interesting to experience this type of literary provincialism first-hand. I understand better now how American provincialism might really fry your biscuit.

In particular, Tesson writes (location 943)

... in our world, the individual did not accept sacrifice except for other individuals of his or her choice: his family, his nearest and dearest, perhaps a few friends. The only conceivable wars consisted in defending our property. We were quite happy to right, but only for the safety of the floor where our apartments were. We would never have completed in enthusiasm at the prospect of sacrificing ourselves for an abstract concept that was superior to us, for the collective interest of -- worse -- for the love of a chief.

I know that this was written in 2015 or so, when the world looked quite different than it does now, but still it takes an impressive ability to ignore the evidence of one's senses to fail to see people (most of whom, admittedly, not well-off French people like the author) who were sacrificing themselves, rightly or wrong, for religion, ethnicity, or nationality.

On the positive side, a pleasantly fast easy read and also entertaining, as an account of a ridiculously ill-conceived journey should be.

Thank you to Europa Editions and Netgalley for providing me with a free advance egalley copy of this book.

[The Sporty Bookworm · Rating 4 out of 5]

31 décembre 2015. Fin de Berezina pour moi. Terminer l'année sur une défaite ne laisse présager que du positif pour 2016 non ? Cet ouvrage n'est pas du même genre que Dans les forêts de Sibérie car ce n'est pas un récit purement descriptif d'une expérience unique de voyage mais le compte rendu d'un pèlerinage historique. Sylvain Tesson refait le trajet de la fuite de Napoléon et de la Grande Armée de la campagne de Russie de 1812 en side-car soviétique. Le style y est moins recherché que pour l'ouvrage sur la Sibérie néanmoins s'il on l'aime le sacré, le mythe et les hauts lieux de l'Histoire, ce livre est passionnant. On ne peut que communier avec l'auteur et éprouver de la compassion pour tous ces hommes morts ou emprisonnés durant cette épreuve à cause de la folie de l'égo d'un seul homme. Suivre les péripéties de cette aventure fut un agréable moment de lecture.

[Christian · Rating 4 out of 5]

Superbe récit qui retrace la retraite de Russie de la Grande Armée Napoléonienne, dans un perpétuel va et vient entre l'aventure moderne à dos d'Oural, moto héritée de la période soviétique et la grande défaite historique.
De nombreuses réflexions sur la modernité et l'histoire.

[fiafia · Rating 2 out of 5]

Un peu déçue. Cela promettait beaucoup de choses: histoire personnelle et histoire avec un grand H, un peu de géographie, traversée de pays et traité de l'entretien des motocyclettes... Finalement, tout reste assez superficiel. Plutôt bien écrit, certes, mais beaucoup de verbiage.

[Clarabel · Rating 5 out of 5]

Un road-trip passionnant ! ♥♥♥♥

[Venky · Rating 4 out of 5]

Mr. Sylvain Tesson elucidates to the uninitiated the deeper and transcendental meaning of the word “Doing a Berezina” in the French. Usually denoting an astonishingly unfortunate piece of event fro which a protagonist just about evades the inevitable, the phrase usually means: “We made it by a whisker guys, we felt if fly right by us, we got our fingers burned, but life goes on and Stuff The Queen Of England”

Berezina is also, on a more solemn and somber note, the river across which the Battle of Berezina (or Beresina) took place from 26 to 29 November 1812, between the French army of Napoleon, forced to beat back after a disastrous invasion of Russia, and crossing the Berezina (near Borisov, Belarus), and the Russian armies under the stewardship of Mikhail Kutuzov, Peter Wittgenstein and Admiral Pavel Chichagov. While, the French suffered calamitous losses, the diminutive Corsican Emperor himself avoided being captured or killed crossing the river and speeding off to the safe confines of Paris. Since then “Bérézina” has been used in French as a synonym for “disaster.”

In his book “Berezina”, which is extraordinary in its hilarity, eviscerating in its evocativeness and egregious in its narrative, Mr. Tesson recaptures an incredulous journey performed by him along with four of his friends which takes the form of a recreation of the ‘Retreat’ of the Grande Armee from Moscow to Paris. Powered by the off-road Ural Motorcycles fitted with side-cars, egged on by a mixture of adrenaline and passion and fueled by gallons of Vodka along their way, Mr. Tesson and his accomplices, Vassily, Vitaly, Cedric Gras and Thomas Goisque – two Russian and two Frenchmen respectively, heave, hurtle, groan and grit their way across the expanses of Russia, Belarus, Lithuania, Poland and Germany before finally arriving at the Napoleon memorial in Paris.

“Two hundred years later, I decide to follow the route of the agonising army, of the shocked cavalry, of those skeleton-like infantrymen, of those men with feathered helmets believing in the invincibility of the Eagle. It’s not for a commemoration (do you commemorate horror?), much less a celebration, it’s to acknowledge across the centuries and the verstes, those Frenchmen of year XII blinded by the Corsican sun and smashed on the reefs of nightmares”

A travelogue punctuated with historical accounts, “Berezina” is a sheer and elegantly crafted delight. Holding forth on the potential exhilaration and worthy merits of embarking on such a landmark journey, Mr. Tesson dangles the bait to his fellow perpetrators in crime: “It’s a madness we get obsessed with, that transports us into myth; a drift, a frenzy, with History and Geography running through it, irrigated with Vodka, a Kerouac-style ride, something that, in the evening will leave us panting, weeping by the side of a pit. Feverish….”

Having enlisted support, Mr. Tesson and Co mount their khakhi-green Ural bikes, relics of the Soviet manufacturing era. These “motorcycles with adjacent baskets” according to Mr. Tesson are an obstinate breed. “You can never tell if they’ll start, and once launched no one knows if they’ll stop.” On the 2nd of December, 2012, two hundred years after the French Emperor’s chaotic retreat, Mr. Tesson and his friends stick the French national flag in front of the basket and set forth on their peculiar journey. Inscribed against the tri-colour background in gold letters were the words:

“Imperial Guard; Emperor of the French to the 1st regiment of light cavalry lancers.

Mr. Tesson possesses this remarkable ability to make even the mundane a quintessential element of the metaphysical. Take his ruminations about his motorcycle helmet for example:

“A motorcycle helmet is a meditation cell. Trapped inside, ideas circulate better than in the open air. It would be ideal to smoke in there. Sadly, the lack of space in an integral crash helmet prevents one from drawing on a Havana cigar…. A helmet is also a sounding box. It’s nice to sing inside it. It’s like being in a recording studio. I hummed the epigraph of Celine’s Journey to the End of the Night…”

Blinded by pouring rain and cascading snow, Mr. Tesson with Gras, his friend with a philosophical bent of mind demurely sitting in his side car, faces some perilous bit of navigation to do hemmed in by huge Russian transportation trucks. Even under such discomfiting circumstances, Mr. Tesson finds time to reflect upon the foibles and fragilities of a vulnerable species. What more circumstances than the bloody war of Berezina and the plight of the fleeing French Army to illustrate this universal feature?

“I saw soldiers on their knees next to carcasses, biting into the flesh like hungry wolves,” Captain Francois recalls. Bourgogne himself survived for a few days sucking, ‘blood Icicles’ Even the Emperor had to get out of his carriage and walk leaning on the arm of Caulaincourt or a camp aide. The road was cluttered with dead men and horses, dying civilians and soldiers, crates, carts, cannons and all that the scattering army was losing behind it. Those who were not dead stumbled over the corpses of those who had already fallen. The men advanced through soul-destroying plains. The cold had destroyed all hope, God no longer existed, the temperatures were dropping…. Crazy with suffering, emaciated, eaten by vermin, they walked straight on, from fields covered in dead to other fields of graves. “

However, it is not all cannibalism and autophagy. In between the testimonies of chaos and carnage, Mr. Tesson relieves us of the terrors of war and the tedium of desperation by interspersing his account with an irrepressible and irreverent dose of pure humour, wicked wit and scintillating spontaneity! Consider this blisteringly funny account of an unfortunate eviction from a bar: “We’d been so cold in the past few hours, since Berezina, that we decided to warm ourselves up with peppered Vodka. The first bottle in memory of the French, the second in memory of Russians, and a few extra glasses for the Polish, British and Germans…. The bar manager threw us out after, in between bellows, we’d set fire to the tablecloth by knocking over the candles on our table.”

Or consider this brilliantly matter-of-fact account of Mr. Tesson’s fellow traveler Vassily being bitten by a dog, “”A dog bit Vassily on the calf in the little garden where 2 1/s inch Pak 40 cannons taken from the Germans in 1940 are on display. The blood drew a flower on the snow.”

Napoleon’s ambitions of invading Russia might have been put to paid by a combination of nature, nationalism and naiveté. However, every adverse circumstance and material misfortune brings along with it some of life’s most pristine lessons. Mr. Tesson sure provides us with some of them with panache!

[Julay · Rating 5 out of 5]

Voilà un petit livre drolatique qui vaut le détour ! Sylvain Tesson raconte avec beaucoup d'humour son surprenant voyage en side-car de Moscou à Paris avec ses amis pour commémorer la retraite de la Grande Armée en 1812. Le récit est émaillé d'anecdotes historiques et de réflexions philosophiques sur l'état du monde et de la civilisation. C'est une très belle histoire (vraie).

[Anne Danlos · Rating 5 out of 5]

Encore une épopée superbement relatée dans le style propre de Sylvain Tesson, riche en détails historiques qui rendent ses récits tellement intéressants.
Je ne peux m’empêcher de me demander comment il est possible d’envoyer tant d’hommes à la boucherie! Les circonstances climatiques, en chemin vers (et de retour de) Moscou, étaient tellement extrêmes qu’elles frôlent l’inimaginable ! Que des soldats préfèrent se jeter dans un brasier plutôt que de souffrir des affres du froid en dit long.
Et de rejoindre la question que se pose Sylvain en fin de livre : « Napoléon souffrit-t-il, dans le silence de la nuit, d’avoir ouvert les portes de la guerre et précipité des nations entières dans le gouffre? Fut-il tourmenté par les fantômes ?…cessa-t-il une fois, dans son existence, de considérer les pertes humaines du seul point de vue de la statistique ? ».

[Fx Smeets · Rating 5 out of 5]

Texte magnifique, Bérézina entre dans mon panthéon de la littérature de voyage aux côtés du Kampuchea de Patrick Deville. C’est aussi le plus cendrarsien de ses textes. Non qu’il ne le revendique pas. Il fait même une référence explicite au natif de la Chaux-de-Fonds : “J’essayais de me pénétrer de ce mot de Cendrars : “En voyage on devrait garder les yeux fermés” ” (édition Folio p.89).

Tesson, après Cendrars, confirme cette vérité des grands voyageurs : voyager déçoit. Voyager tue le mythe. C’est à la rencontre d’un mythe que Tesson et ses compères se sont embarqués, depuis Moscou, sur leurs side-cars soviétiques exténués: retracer, mètre par mètre, le parcours de l’Empereur pendant la retraite de Russie. Pourtant, le dernier mot de Bérézina confirme l’adage. Quand Tesson rejoint son appartement parisien, quelque chose est mort. Il est triste.

C’est dans le ton, celui des anecdotes surtout, que je retrouve le Cendrars de la tétralogie. Ancré dans la quarantaine, Tesson est désormais à l’aise avec son style. Il écrit sans complexe. Il a confiance en lui. Il n’a plus besoin d’effets d’aucune sorte. Son propos, son expérience de voyageur, sont assez forts. Cela l’amène naturellement à trouver le ton qui chez Cendrars me plaît tant : une sérénité teintée de tristesse – pour être serein, disait Cendrars, il faut avoir souffert et aimer encore les hommes.

Aujourd’hui Sylvain Tesson est un écrivain tout autant qu’un voyageur. Voyageur, il l’est davantage que le fut jamais mon cher Cendrars. Comme écrivain, il a trouvé une voix mûre. A son âge, Cendrars faisait du reportage pour la grande presse quotidienne. Il n’avait pas écrit la première ligne de sa tétralogie.

C’est dire mon impatience à lire les prochains livres de Tesson.

Et puis, plutôt que me livrer à une analyse technique, je préfère poser ici quelques citations qui m’ont fait lever le nez de ma lecture.

P.94: “Un litre de vodka au bar de l’hôtel vint très vite à bout de ces complexes. La vodka est autrement plus efficace que l’espérance. Et tellement moins vulgaire.”

P157: “- Souvenez vous, les gars, dis-je, que les Grognards firent une prise dans un entrepôt de Wiasma qui valut à la ville le nom de “Ville du Schnaps!” ”

Enfin, ce long passage dont j’ai perdu la page :

“Les mots de Caulaincourt, griffonnés sous la pelisse, me revenaient en mémoire: « L’Empereur désirait des routes ouvertes au mérite, le moyen de parvenir sans distinction de caste, sans être parent ou ami d’un homme en place ou d’une favorite. » Et encore: « Tout soldat pouvant devenir général, baron, duc, maréchal; le fils du paysan, du maître d’école, de l’avoué, du maire, conseiller d’État, ministre, duc, cette noblesse ne choquerait plus personne avec le temps, parce qu’elle récompenserait indistinctement tout le monde. » Pendant que défilaient les alignements des arbres douloureusement plantés sur le bord de la route, je trouvais ironique que l’homme qui professait de telles choses soit désavoué sous notre République par un de ceux-là mêmes qui se proclamait socialiste, mais avait perdu la faveur du peuple.

Nous faisions des haltes dans les stations-service pour ranimer nos mains gelées et frotter nos rotules directement exposées au vent. Nous avions fini par les entourer de journaux, de cagoules en laine et de manchons de tissu maintenus avec du scotch. Nous portions deux paires de chaussettes, une paire de bottes de cuir et des surbottes étanches que nous coiffions d’une combinaison intégrale. Résultat de ces stratifications: nous avions froid et il fallait dix minutes pour réussir à pisser.

Varsovie approchait, le mercure descendait. Goisque, engoncé dans ses fourrures, avait de plus en plus l’air d’une vieille dame.

« Goisque !
– Quoi?
– Tu as l’air d’une vieille dame.
– Qu’est-ce que tu dis?
– Et, en plus, elle est sourde ! » pensai-je dans mon casque.”

[Benny · Rating 2 out of 5]

Sylvain Tesson is een schrijver met branie, meer doener dan filosoof. Hij brak door met Zes Maanden in de Siberische Wouden, een heerlijk fris boekje waarin hij vanuit een blokhut aan het Bajkalmeer nadenkt over zijn en over het leven. Het is een vlot leesbaar en erg citeerbaar werkje dat enkele fijne inzichten bevat, maar helaas ook nogal wat irritante passages. Sylvain Tesson kan prima schrijven, maar is soms hopeloos snobistisch of ondraaglijk macho.

Met Berezina gaat hij op de ingeslagen weg verder. Vanaf de eerste bladzijde slaat Tesson je om het oren met zinnen om in te kaderen. Enkele voorbeelden? “In Rusland heeft de kunst van het toosten de psychoanalyse overbodig gemaakt” (p.29) of “Sinds de internetrevolutie vereiste de revolutie marketingtechnieken” (p.31). Daarna begint het avontuur, de grote tocht op oude zijspanmotors, met de woorden: “Kom op, jongens, niets zal onze Oeral kunnen stoppen, zelfs de remmen niet!” (p.35).

Het gezelschap raast in een rotvaart over gevaarlijke banen van Moskou naar Parijs, zogezegd als eerbetoon aan de grote terugtocht van Napoleon tweehonderd jaar geleden, maar veel tijd voor reflectie is er niet. Onderweg wordt af en toe haltgehouden bij een of ander monument, hier en daar een citaat voorgelezen, maar het blijft allemaal erg oppervlakkig. Opgesloten zitten in een motorhelm heeft iets van mediteren, maar veel tijd voor diepgang is er niet want - pas op! - daar moet alweer een gigantische vrachtwagen ontweken worden, en ’s avonds spoelen de heren het stof van de weg door met sloten wodka. Allemaal heel avontuurlijk en stoer, maar wat levert het op? Kort door de bocht: het idee was beter dan het boek.

[Liam Ostermann · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a tale of three Frenchmen and two Russians traveling on Soviet era motorcycles with sidecars along, mostly, the route Napoleon and the ever decreasing grande arme took on their retreat from Moscow. In the course of the journey they have adventures, struggle with their machines, the weather, etc. and they talk on, about and over Napoleon, history, glory, how we do or do not have anything to believe in any more....It is all marvellous fun, it is a very male genre, it is also one that is very French (although the English are also very good at philosophical travel writing) but, and here's the thing, while it was very readable I kept having these mental reservations best summarised by the mental 'buts' which punctuated my reading throughout this short book.

It is not that the author and his companions are uncritical of Napoleon or totally ignore the terribly human cost of his wars but there is a great of contrasting his 'heroic' age when men followed a charismatic leader, etc. with, since WWII, our age which didn't believe in anything, etc. This is gross simplification but I can help thinking of the hundreds of thousands of very young men who died in the Russian campaign in conditions and circumstances of grotesque horror would have been happier at home with some girl, or boy, fucking and drinking and growing older. Never mind all the peripheral casualties, civilians of all ages, but way to many women and children who suffered and died because Napoleon's and other wars.

To go on further is to overlay too much seriousness on a short book. But it was there as a read it affected my ultimate enjoyment.

[Beth Cato · Rating 4 out of 5]

I received an advance review copy of this book via NetGalley.

This is a curious sort of travelogue. At first I wasn’t sure I liked it—this concept of the French author and his French and Russian buddies riding Urals to retrace the horrors of the collapse of Napoleon’s Grande Armee sounded flippant. The initial attitude came across as aggravatingly 'br'" as well. However, as the author delved deeper into the terrible tragedy of two centuries ago, it is clear that this is a journey conducted with a profound understanding of the past. I’m a history buff, but I confess, I have never read in detail about this incident. I know it as a catastrophic loss of life to the French and Russians, and that ‘berezina’ still carries deep connotations in French culture. This book puts the horrors in blunt terms and contrasts that with the numerous difficulties presented by the modern journey—recalcitrant motorbikes, bitter cold, customs officials, and all. Sure, the book has a ‘bro’ attitude at times, but there’s also a lot to learn here about an almost incomprehensible tragedy and the stubbornness of Russians motorcycles... and the stubbornness and resilience of humans as well.

[Jean-Pascal · Rating 5 out of 5]

Superbe court récit de voyage mêlant adroitement histoire napoléonienne et aventure contemporaine. Une idéologie parfois borderline, mais on s'amuse tant qu'on pardonne tout.

[Lisa Carter · Rating 4 out of 5]

Review of courtesy copy of Berezina, by Sylvain Tesson, translated from the French by Katherine Gregor.

Writer and extreme adventurer Sylvain Tesson is on an Arctic expedition when he decides that he and his friends should retrace Napoleon’s famous retreat from Moscow to Paris. They will also undertake this journey in the dead of winter, only on Ural motorcycles with sidecars. Billed as “…a riotous and erudite book that combines travel, history, comradery, and adventure,” Berezina is all of that, and more.

Testosterone oozes from this band of adventurers, Russophiles, and vodka-swilling Slavs as they toast their voyage and the proletarian king the night before they set off on their twelve-day trek. But as they get underway, as Tesson and crew re-read firsthand accounts of the Grande Armée’s brutal march, the weight of that ghost army settles over them and their story gains astounding depth.

Tesson clothes the skeleton of what we all learned in high school history class, of Napoleon’s defeat at the hands of cold and hunger, with facts and details and quotes from various sources. He then makes it personal, adding his own emotional, philosophical, and insightful reflections along his journey.

It is only day two when the author ruminates: “The reason for this journey was precisely to make this nightmare sink deep into our heads in order to hush the inner laments and to wring the neck of this shrew, this repugnant tendency that is man’s true enemy: self-pity. Since our journey along the path of the French Retreat, whenever I’ve found myself on cliffs that were too steep, or in bivouacs that were too cold, I’ve often thought of those poor devils crawling on the icy road, huddled in their rags, fed on rotting tripe, and I’ve swallowed back the phlegm of whining rising to my lips.”

Katherine Gregor’s translation portrays a voice that is at times boorish and others erudite, but always highly engaging.

[Johanna · Rating 4 out of 5]

Tesson races back from Moscow to Paris riding a Ural motorcycle. Through the snow, between the giant trucks, from town to town in the footsteps of Napoleon’s Grande Armée retreating from Russia. Tens of thousands of men died in november and december 1812, suffering the Russian winter and the constant attacks of both the Russian army and the partisans. It’s a devastating journey where the French army doesn’t find any rest or sufficient food on their way. While they manage to escape when battle threatens, both armies lose tens of thousands of men in horrible ways, leaving behind a gruesome trail of corpses of men and horses, miscellaneous loot from the riches of Moscow and heavy artillery equipment. Fact stranger than fiction it must have been, the worst scenes from a post-apocalyptic movie would still not be quite as hellish as this retreat.
Tesson feels for them while his little party struggles on their road. This is where Napoleon’s downfall starts…

[giduso · Rating 3 out of 5]

Mi aspettavo un libro di viaggio che narrasse più nel dettaglio i luoghi e gli incontri, invece questi sono trattati solo brevemente. Grande spazio é dato alla figura di Napoleone e alla terribile ritirata dalla Russia.

[LaTeigne Du Cosmos · Rating 5 out of 5]

4,5 étoiles 🌟🌟🌟 🌟 💫

[Keith Sickle · Rating 5 out of 5]

Tesson is a crazy guy who goes on crazy adventures, but he is also an excellent and thoughtful writer. This mix of history with a personal voyage is well told and very interesting.

[Small Feet · Rating 4 out of 5]

Road movie en side car de Moscou à paris en plein hiver !avec à ses côtés 2 amis français et 2 mécaniciens russes .. en hommage à la grande armée et à l’énergie folle de l’empereur , 4000 kms parcourus dans la tourmente , la douleur et la bonne humeur sur les traces de cette retraite de Russie avec ses morts , ses chevaux dépecés , ses décisions stratégiques puis la fuite et les confidences de Napoléon !
Savoureux drôle et bien documenté!

[Emma · Rating 5 out of 5]

Tesson and a few friends decided to drive on sidecars from Moscow to Paris, to retrace Napoleon’s route after his debacle.

My full review is here:
https://wordsandpeace.com/2020/06/07/...