Apparently, this was originally written as a 40-page novella, and then was later expanded at various points in time. I have the feeling that it should have been left as a 40-page novella. Like an over-painted painting that the artist should have left as-is. The path is meandering, the narrative wandering, lost almost, trying to find its way, trying to say, "look, here, this, you see", but yes, we've already seen (a case could be made that this is the state of the general himself, skeletons and war stories dancing in his head).

But the idea is good: a general visiting a foreign country 20 years after a war to collect the dead. And it's a sort of reverse perspective: the narrative focus is a foreigner (Italian, though never specified as such), visiting Albania (the author's country), and so we get descriptions of Albania from a "foreign" perspective, written by an Albanian. We get war in its "pure state, like the precipitate of a chemical reaction" [1], and the way it hangs around like a virus in the body, just waiting to come back, even if in a different form, and with different effects. Certain scenes work (the wedding), certain stories (the deserter), but as a whole, I don't know; something is missing that I can't quite put my finger on...


[1] "Voilà la guerre a l'état pur. Ces restes constituent son essence...comme le précipité d'une réaction chimique..." (293)