War, in its way, imposes a certain form on the formlessness of life; it binds people with a common purpose, a project into which each person lends their particular strengths, be it fighting in the trenches or mending uniforms. When war ends there is, seemingly, a first flush of relief, a joyous moment in which to celebrate the birth of this new, longed-for peace, seen in every VE Day photograph, with its smiles and streamers. Then more complicated feelings arrive, ones that cannot be so easily captured on film. These feelings have to do with the death of a shared resolve, one that for six
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