Review of Fall of Giants by Ken Follett
When I first laid eyes on Fall of Giants, I was enticed by the promise of history woven into the fabric of compelling characters. Ken Follett, with his previous successes like Pillars of the Earth, had lodged himself in my reading repertoire as a master of historical fiction. Little did I know that embarking on this journey through World War I would lead me not to the heights of literary craftsmanship, but into a quagmire of trite storytelling and cardboard cutouts of human experience.
At its core, Fall of Giants seeks to depict the turbulent years leading up to and during World War I through the eyes of five interrelated families. Follett’s narrative threads allow us to travel from the grand estates of England to the coal-dusted lungs of Welsh mines, while intersecting with the political machinations of even more famous figures of the time. However, with each turn of the page, my excitement waned as clichés layered the narrative, making every character predictable. Earl Fitzherbert, the archetypal conservative lord, embodies everything we would expect: a discriminatory outlook and a clandestine affair with his maid. Meanwhile, we find our star-crossed lovers in the form of a British woman and a reluctant German man—oh, how daring!
Follett’s prose, while straightforward, leaves much to be desired. Instead of immersing readers in the emotional depths of his characters, he opts for a dry exposition that stumbles along. Dialogue falls flat, echoing more of a history lesson than intimate conversations—conversations with the gravitas the era demands. I found myself yearning for wit, warmth, or at least something resembling genuine insight.
Perhaps the most striking quote encapsulating the disillusionment found in the novel is: “Men were the only animals that slaughtered their own kind by the million, and turned the landscape into a waste of shell craters and barbed wire.” This sentiment resonates profoundly within Follett’s narrative; although he strives for significance, his characters never quite manage to elevate the historical context into anything emotionally engaging. Every prediction was met with a predictable sigh and an eye roll, rendering the so-called "drama" limp and lifeless.
Yet, amidst the monotony lies a curious note: Follett’s exploration of political turbulence surrounding the Great War offers a fresh perspective, hinting at Britain’s questionable motivations for entering the conflict. This leftward lean intrigues me, suggesting a deeper complexity submerged beneath layers of banality.
In closing, I can’t help but admit that, despite its shortcomings, Fall of Giants somehow kept my attention. I find comfort in how easily it reads—it’s almost like indulging in junk food; it might not be nutritious or enlightening, but it’s satisfyingly familiar. Fans of historical epics looking for an uncomplicated, albeit frustrating, ride may enjoy this book, while those seeking depth or emotional resonance would be better off elsewhere. As for me, I may not race to devour the sequels, but I can’t help but smile at the thought of Follett’s escapades—a bit like attending a family reunion full of eccentric relatives. You always know what to expect, for better or worse!
Discover more about Fall of Giants (The Century Trilogy, #1) on GoodReads >>