Chapter 81 : Reversalism (2)

Anti-war.

A belief that has existed ever since war was invented in human history.

If there are those who wish to fight and defeat their enemies, then naturally, there are also those who wish to live together peacefully.

This has been true regardless of system, era, or nationality.

Even in Nazi Germany or Imperial Japan—nations infamous for their belligerence—or in this world that is not Earth.

“Because seeking stability is human instinct.”

From the perspective of warmongers, it’s an unfortunate reality, but it’s irresistible.

No matter how much one insists on justification, secures righteous cause, or mobilizes every propaganda medium,those who wish to settle in peace will never disappear.

They may become the minority, but they’ll remain.

“Ironically, that’s why it was also used as a tool of war.”

A truth so common it’s practically general knowledge.

Rulers have often used this to weaken the enemy’s ability to wage war.

For instance, broadcasting messages to enemy soldiers urging them to go home, or scattering propaganda leaflets during bombings.

They even composed sentimental songs to provoke homesickness.

What I’m about to do now isn’t much different in essence.

Only more refined, and literarily superior.

“With a title like A Farewell to Arms, I can guess the theme… but what’s All Quiet on the Western Front? Is that a book from your world?”

“Yes. Both are masterpieces written by great literary giants.”

Even those uninterested in reading may have heard of these famous works.

All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Remarque.

A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway.

Both are works that represent the fame and careers of these two authors.

Coincidentally, they were both published in the same year: 1929.

Although the stories unfold in different locations, the historical backdrop is the same—World War I.

Well, that’s only natural, considering both authors experienced the war firsthand and wrote the books after suffering through it.

“Perhaps it’s true that great pain creates great art.”

Creation is a continuous struggle.

Someone once said that the more pain you give, the greater the creation becomes.

Looking at examples like these, there’s something oddly convincing about that.

Maybe that’s why Russian literature has always been so powerful.

“You remembered all that even when writing other ideological texts before… did you memorize the entire book?”

“Rather than looking things up while studying, I find it easier to just memorize them.”

Kalia looked a bit exasperated.

I nodded casually.

Once you become a professor—especially a tenured one—it’s standard to have at least a few books related to your specialty memorized.

That way, you’re never stuck during research or lectures.

“There are about 80 books in my head right now, I think? I’ve forgotten a few since I haven’t read the originals in a while.”

“…Th-That’s amazing.”

“It’s nothing. On Earth, there are plenty of people far beyond me.”

To take academia as a profession, you have to truly love and be able to explore your field.

There may be exceptions for major fields like chemical engineering or medicine, but for minor ones?

Only those who reach the peak through genuine scholarship—true academic freaks—end up becoming professors.

You need that much passion to surpass others and rise to the top.

“Spending a lifetime learning and researching isn’t something that can be done with average willpower.”

I wasn’t quite at that level… but I was the type who enjoyed and loved studying.

I found exploring Marx’s dialectical materialism more fun than doing five-man queues with friends.

So I skipped middle and high school with qualification exams and went straight to university to dig into my major.

I practically lived in the library every day, and eventually, one of the professors took me under his wing.

When he retired, I became his successor.

Thinking about it now, I feel like visiting him.

He was strict, but he taught well and took me to a lot of academic conferences.

“But why did you memorize novels? They’re not even academic books.”

“It was just a professional habit. I read them like I read research papers, and it just happened.”

“That happens sometimes. I worked as a secretary once, and I developed a habit of recording everything, even unnecessary things.”

Anyway, All Quiet on the Western Front and A Farewell to Arms were books I encountered during my graduate school years.

I started reading them on my professor’s recommendation and ended up finding them surprisingly interesting, so I reread them multiple times until I had them memorized.

Back then, I thought it was a pointless habit… but now, life brought me to a point where I can actually use it.

“I’m curious about the content. If it’s something you like, it must be quite unconventional.”

“You’ll see when the manuscript’s done. You’ll be the first to read it.”

“Hehe, I’ll be looking forward to it.”

Both books are essentially the alpha and omega of the anti-war novel genre.

Even in the 2020s—nearly a century after publication—their narrative techniques, storylines, and war depictions are still being used.

They literally created a new genre and established its foundation.

“It’s also the reason war novels became so gloomy.”

Previously, books about war typically pursued idealistic images like heroism, patriotism, and the glory of victory.

Stories where the protagonist triumphs after a tough struggle, defeats the enemy, and ultimately attains love and happiness.

It was standard to mix typical romance and success stories.

The hardships the protagonist endured were always for the sake of future success, and no matter the development, it always ended in a happy ending.

Hardly any stories broke from this formula.

“In short, they were basically real-world versions of fantasy hero tales.”

But All Quiet on the Western Front and A Farewell to Arms are different.

They tell the story from the perspective of weak individuals, not great heroes or brilliant generals.

They depict the ugly reality of war, the loss of youth, and psychological terror—calmly, but with elegant prose.

The protagonist’s journey wasn’t elevated into a grand odyssey, but rather reduced to a mere struggle for survival—an act of desperation destined for no reward.

‘A simple explanation, but an undeniably radical attempt.’

It doesn’t try to accuse society or denounce those in power.

It simply portrays the era and the people shattered by war, exactly as they were.

It was that raw vividness that moved the readers’ hearts.

And because it was the first to attempt such a thing,these two works earned eternal, immortal fame in literary history.

So then—what kind of reaction would these bring if released into another world?

“Kalia, bring me some paper. And that fountain pen we bought last time.”

“Yes. Should I also prepare a snack for you while you work?”

“That’d be nice.”

I don’t know for sure, but I doubt the lords will like it.

*****

“How should I write this…?”

This book was different in nature from anything I’d written before.

Philosophical and ideological treatises don’t require much literary finesse.

They’re easier to modify to my taste and style.

As long as I had enough writing skill and knowledge to present the necessary content smoothly, that was enough.

But this time, it was different.

If I carelessly tampered with the masterpieces that Remarque and Hemingway had poured their souls into, I’d ruin their charm.

‘I’m a scholar, not a novelist.’

If I changed the writing—full of literary techniques and carefully chosen words—and it ended up a mess?

If it turned into a worthless failure that didn’t even meet the basics of what a novel should be?

‘I’m a professor, for god’s sake. I can’t be making such amateur mistakes.’

So out of concern for that possibility, I made almost no edits this time.

I even left country names like Italy, Germany, and France intact as much as possible.

So readers would feel like they were reading a war novel set in a fictional country.

The only things I changed were descriptions of technology.

Cars became carriages, trains became magic-powered rail coaches, and planes turned into hot air balloons that used magic to fly.

I simplified the tech to a level this world could understand.

Some things felt a bit awkward, but I accepted that.

If I threw in too many unfamiliar machines and concepts, people wouldn’t be able to focus on the book’s themes.

[This book is neither an accusation nor a confession. Though the shells may have missed me, it is simply an attempt to report on an era destroyed by war.]

[While they still write and rant, we saw the field hospitals and dying comrades. While they glorify loyalty to the state, we already knew the fear of death was far greater. But that didn’t make us traitors, deserters, or cowards.]

[The front line is like a cage. Inside, all we can do is wait nervously for what may come.We live in fear, trapped within the radius of shells falling in arcs. We never know what might explode above our heads next.]

[We are no longer young.

We have lost the will to fight against the world.

We are escapees.

We are fleeing from ourselves and from our lives.

We have lived cut off from activity, effort, and progress.

We no longer believe in the substance of such things.

The only thing we believe exists now is war.]

First, All Quiet on the Western Front.

I translated it line by line into the continental common language, carefully ensuring the nuance remained intact.

[Because there were too many things too painful to bear hearing, in the end only place names held any meaning.Numbers and dates, along with those place names, were the only things left we could say and give meaning to.]

[Anger was washed away along with all duty in the river.

Duty disappeared the moment the military police grabbed me by the collar.

I was never too attached to outward appearances, but I still wanted to take off my uniform.

I tore off the stars from my sleeve simply because it felt better that way—not for the sake of honor.]

[The world breaks everyone, and afterward many are strong at the broken places.

But those who do not break, the world kills.

It makes no distinction—whether they are very good people, very gentle people, or very brave ones—it kills them all equally.]

[Even if you don’t belong anywhere, the world will still kill you too, without fail—but there’s no need to rush it.]

Next was A Farewell to Arms.

The process was simple, but I poured more care and focus into each character than when I wrote Das Kapital or An Essay on the Principle of Population.

And so, when I finally completed the writing after about three weeks, I was hit by both a sense of accomplishment and a deep, hollow fatigue.

“This will do.”

Organizing the pages, binding them, and turning them into paperback editions for distribution—that was someone else’s job.

Now I could step back and leisurely watch the ripples it would cause.