LAUSR

impact of the passing of time, as well as the importance of the evolving political contexts in which the protests were recalled. For many, initial hopes of social and political change gave way in later decades to ‘sadness and despair’ corresponding to a broader demoralization of the left, as expressed by gunner Alphonse Cannone, who wrote in his memoirs three days before his death in 1939: ‘Could we hope? Is a better future taking shape for the people? Alas, only illusions’ (125). The thirtieth anniversary of 1919 brought with it a new wave of commemorative activity in the form of a ‘veteran’ organization, the Association Fraternelle des Anciens de la Mer Noire et de leurs Amis, which lasted until the early 1970s. This association, however, was inevitably caught up in the Cold War and associated tensions towards and between French communists, which limited its potential function as a social support structure or a space in which ageing mutineers could openly share memories. Perry admits that his sample of testimonies is relatively small and ‘not entirely unproblematic’ (74), but they serve nevertheless to illustrate the ‘ambivalences, contradictions and inconsistencies of memory and consciousness’ (180) that lay beneath the myths – either justificatory or demonizing – of the protests that were constructed in the decades following 1919. This book successfully disentangles the mutineers from their legend, noting, for example, their racism as well as their internationalism. I felt at times that a greater focus on the gendered nature of the mutineers’ accounts might have been fruitful, drawing on some of the recent scholarship on masculinity and First World War veterans. However, this is a minor quibble. This is a fascinating and well-researched study that offers an original analysis of a well-worn tale of military protest, and it will be of interest to military, political, social and cultural historians alike.