I know, I know; most of you aren’t here for non-fiction. I actually was planning to have a fiction review for you this week. I was! But then… things got busy, and my internet was down for much of that time, which caused me to fall behind on other work, and, and… well, you get the picture. “Excuses, excuses,” you say. “Next he’ll claim a dog ate his book review.”

But I ought to give you something as a reward for your loyally showing up here. So here is a review I wrote, but didn’t really plan to publish, of yet another Napoleonic history book.

As the title implies, this book is actually history of two separate events, 129 years apart, both of which occurred in the same place: Borodino, a place in Russia on the outskirts of Moscow. In 1812, Napoleon Bonaparte’s Grand Armeé finally confronted the Russian Army after a long and frustrating game of cat and mouse across western Russia. In 1941, the German army met a strong Soviet defense, fanatically determined to keep the invaders from the gates of Moscow.

The author interweaves accounts of both battles, to build an almost eerily symmetrical story of how each developed.  Of course, the combatants in 1941 were aware of the historical significance of the 1812 battle, and noted the ominous feelings the word “Borodino” evoked. (Ironically, many of the monuments to the earlier conflict had already been destroyed by the Soviet government, who saw them as symbols of the Tsarist era.)

The 1812 battle, while technically a French victory, has got to be one of the worst moments for Napoleon as a strategist and as a tactician. The book is unsparing in its assessment of the Emperor’s many errors. While Waterloo will always be The Battle that ended Napoleon’s career, it’s pretty clear to me that his single worst miscalculations as a general came at Borodino. (Indeed, it’s tempting to wonder if the doomed last charge of the Imperial Guard at Waterloo was partially in reaction to his failure to deploy the Guard at Borodino.)

As for 1941; it’s hard to even get into things like tactics. Two technologically advanced, fanatically indoctrinated, tired, hungry, and desperate armies were hurled together into an unbelievably brutal slugfest in snow and ice. Nowhere is the relentless march of technology made more apparent than in the contrasting of what “artillery” meant in the Napoleonic era versus in World War II.

The author mostly does a very good job of weaving the two campaigns together, highlighting both the changes as well as the broader point that, well, as Ron Perlman would say, “War. War never changes.” There were a few points when I would be reading an account and honestly I wasn’t sure which battle they were in for a few sentences. (And the names are no help; there are men with Polish names fighting for the French, French names fighting for the Germans, and German names fighting for the Russians.)

Is it a good history? I think so. But what makes a good history? After all, even if you knew literally nothing about either battle, just by reading this far you have got a reasonable summary: Napoleon invaded Russia, and he lost. Then later Hitler invaded Russia, and he lost too. Bam, there’s your history! When we have the quiz, you should be able to ace it. Now, we can safely say that we have covered both campaigns when it comes time for our standardized tests.

But perhaps, if you are an inquisitive sort, (a rare thing these days!) you suspect there is more to this story. Maybe there is; but first, a trademark Ruined Chapel-style non-sequitur!

Hey, didja guys hear about the Galactic Starcruiser? It was some sort of Star Wars-themed mystery dinner-theater LARPing experience. But it lost a bunch of money and had to be shut down. Some vlogger on YouTube did a four hour show about how disappointing it was. (Apparently, it was insufficiently immersive.)

I was recently reading David Foster Wallace’s hilarious essay, Shipping Out, about his experience on a cruise ship, and how, eventually, no matter much luxury it provided, it was never really enough: