Author Peter Leese does a decent job in this short book of giving an overview of how shell shock (now PTSD) was treated, understood, and perceived in Britain before, during, and after the Great War. The focus of the work, as the title makes clear, is the response of the English soldiers, civilians, and medical establishment, but since Great Britain's treatment of shell shock is contrasted with that of the Germans and the French, the work can't help but also shed some light on how the people in these other countries understood the still-contentious concept of war trauma. Because neurasthenia (as it was first known) was a close categorical cousin of hysteria, and hysteria was mostly associated with women, this naturally made men loath to claim that they were suffering from the illness, even when they had every right to be a bundle of shredded nerves after enduring long stretches under a rain of enemy shell fire.
Still, because the subject was tabooed at the time of the war, the reader gets the feeling that, try as the author may to investigate and understand how soldiers and doctors talked about these subjects, his path is barred by either the erasure of records (to respect the privacy, especially of the officers) or just the refusal of soldiers to divulge too much about their conditions.We may be curious about what these psychologically wounded men thought, but In a war in which soldiers were still being executed for cowardice, one can hardly blame these poor fellows for not being eager to speak honestly about their burgeoning neuroses.
Leese is on much solider ground when he leaves the medical literature produced during the war, and engages with the retconning of war experience in the post-war period, both by artists who were soldiers (like Siegfried Sassoon and Robert Graves) as well as the playwrights and poets who created works that, while sometimes too didactic, were at least attempts to understand why so many had to die in what one writer called, "The great swindle."
There are some bits of interesting information here, and occasionally Leese does manage to find a record in which a soldier or doctor breathes life into the work and helps us understand their pain and confusion, but on the whole it feels like those from whom we needed to hear most are unfortunately the mutest in this work. That, of course, is not due to the fault of the diligent and insightful author, but I would be lying if I said that after I closed the book I felt as if my curiosity had even begun to be sated. I will search elsewhere, probably in fiction (as usual). Still, a qualified recommendation.