In an era of novels over-the-top novels of intense artificiality, "Southerners, Northerners" by Lee Ho-Chul, a Korean writer, comes across as naive and in some ways refreshing. It is not, strictly, speaking a translation of a novel, but instead of a collection of newspaper pieces rearranged chronologically, that reflect the writer's experience during the war. It hearkens back less to the great modernist novels than to "The Red Badge of Courage". The story begins during the Korean War at a time when the South is driving North toward where the narrator is studying. He and a number of comrades are recruited into the Northern Army and, with meager training, are sent to blunt the south's advance. He starts out naive, a believer in the Northern cause, but cannot help noticing that the Marxist, supposedly classless society and army of his side are in fact rife with factions and power struggles, some of them lethal. His tone is neutral, although he is clear that he does not care for certain comrades. But his description of this jockeying for power begins a quiet erosion of his faith. The officers drink in fancy train cars. The political types, some of them Southern Communists who have moved north to join the cause, are bullies and, in the end, often frauds. Teachers disappear. His suicide brigade disintegrates before he is forced into battle and, in disorganized flight, he and other members of the unit are captured by the Southern Army. In captivity he discovers that, contrary to the propaganda he has been fed, the Southerners are not uniformly brutish. Neither side comes off as heroic; there are honest Northerners and harsh and disrespectful Southerners. (The author wound up in the South, but was no blind supporter, protesting its dictatorship in the 70s). Unlike Henry Fleming, the narrator never has the opportunity to discover whether he is afraid, courageous, or both. In the author's view, there is no heroism at all in this war, only people who act like human beings and people who do not. This novel, as the translators have assembled it, may represent an old-fashioned way of telling stories, but its sense of the futility of war and its nuanced view of opposing ideologies--the refusal to issue blanket condemnation or praise--is distinctly modern.