The Winds of War

 

The Winds of War by Herman Wouk

The Henry Family #1

Fiction

1971

Finished on August 9, 2026

Rating: 3/5 (Good)

Peace, if it ever exists, will not be based on the fear of war, but on the love of peace. It will not be the abstaining from an act, but the coming of a state of mind. In this sense the most insignificant writer can serve peace, where the most powerful tribunals can do nothing. ~Herman Wouk

Publisher's Blurb:

Europe, 1939: the rumblings of war grow to a terrible roar. In America the Henry clan--Navy to the bone--finds itself drawn into the very center of the maelstrom: the father at the right hand of Roosevelt, his oldest son flying over the Pacific, his youngest falling in love in Europe. From the conference table to the battlefield, from the rise of the Reich to the horror of Pearl Harbor, this is America's great World War II novel, Pulitzer Prize-winner Herman Wouk's classic epic of monumental events--and human courage and passions.

I have no idea how long I've owned a copy of The Winds of War, but it's easily been sitting on my shelf for over a decade. Maybe two. I've come to enjoy reading about World War II and have always wanted to read Herman Wouk's classic novel. The length (1000+ pages in mass market!) was enough to keep me from picking it up, but last winter I decided to make it a year-long read in 2026. Well, it didn't take me a full year, but I did read it here and there between other books in my stacks. Fortunately, the storyline was straightforward in such a way that it didn't lose momentum with each pause I took over the course of eight months of reading. It's essentially a family saga with the backdrop of the war, culminating with the bombing of Pearl Harbor. The Henrys are a Navy family, and readers are given detailed accounts of that life. The book is not one of my favorites of the genre, and I never came to care about any of the main characters. As one might expect, the passages about Hitler felt all too familiar in these current times:

When Victor Henry first came into Hitler's new chancellery, he was incongruously reminded of Radio City Music Hall in New York. The opulent stretch of carpet, the long line of waiting people, the high ceiling, the great expanses of shiny marble, the inordinate length and height of the huge space, the gaudily uniformed men ushering the guests along, all added up to much the same theatrical, vulgar, strained effort to be grand; but this was the seat of a major government, not a movie house. It seemed peculiar.

and

Hitler from moment to moment looked restless, tired, or bored, or else he flashed into winning charm. He was seldom still. He shifted his feet, turned his head here and there, clasped his hands before him, folded them, gestured with them, spoke absently to most people and intensely to a few, and every so often did the little knee kick. Once Pug saw him eating small iced cakes from a plate, shoving them toward his mouth with snatching greedy fingers while he talked to a bemedalled visitor.

and

The speech was a lot of the same old stuff, with some remarkable whoppers, even for the Fuhrer, about who started the Polish war and about the sterling conduct of the Germans toward civilians. This tommyrot was certainly for internal consumption. His German listeners appeared to be swallowing it, though it's very hard to discern what Germans really think.

I've never watched the popular miniseries based on The Winds of War, which aired in 1983 starring Robert Mitchum, Ali McGraw, Polly Bergen, Jan-Michael Vincent, Victoria Tennant, Peter Graves, and John Houseman, but I'm tempted. I also plan to read War and Remembrance in 2027 for another year-long read.