Nothing here was written with the intent of producing a book. We have bits of letters, the occasional essay, recollections of others. So it's a bit of a mishmash and much of it is fragments. And as long as you can live with that, it's fine.

Saint-Exupery was a French pilot and he seems to have loved being a pilot when he was young and the whole field of aviation was a novelty. But the Saint-Exupery we meet in this book is a bitter Frenchman in exile. The fall of France has disturbed him, he cannot accept the (to him self-proclaimed) French government in exile. He wishes to help his country throw off the chains of Nazi occupation, he wishes the United States would know that its destiny is to help France do this.

And through it all, he's still a writer. And he has a thin skin. Constantly he attempts to "not explain himself" while simultaneously denying that he cares what others think of him.

Reading this book can teach you a great deal about the confusion of the Second World War. Although Saint-Exupery does eventually join the fight against the Nazis following a short exile in the U.S., we learn very little of what it's like to be a pilot in this wartime drama.

He's older than the other pilots and this causes some problems. He's in physical pain sometimes and mental anguish most of the time. And yet he did write some of more famous works during this time.

Saint-Exupery is no fan of modern, urban society. We are apparently all doomed, we modern pleasure seekers who will not learn to simply sit and think. He does not love America and all it stands for. The man is a fine conservative.