The Review That Sparked This Post

“I really wanted to like this book, but unfortunately it's just not good. The writing style changes constantly, the author uses different languages mid sentence, which leads to confusion for the reader, and there are numerous print issues like triple spaces sentences. The characters' dialogue and behavior is so disconnected from the situations they're in, making them look like psychopaths (not in a good way). The author is also scared to write character deaths. There are multiple points in which characters should be dead but the author is afraid to lose characters. There is only one good character, and it’s not the main character (the author’s self-insert), it’s the secondary main character. This book feels like a rough draft. Save your money.”
— Verified Amazon Reviewer, April 2025

Everyone’s entitled to an opinion — even bad ones. But throwing in a smug line like “Save your money” doesn’t make you insightful. It just proves you missed the point entirely.

Let’s break it down.

“The writing style changes constantly.”

It’s called range. The war isn’t one mood, one tone, or one pace. Quiet tension in a bunker, frenzied movement in a sabotage op, and emotional breakdowns in the mud aren’t written the same — because they shouldn’t be. That’s not inconsistency. That’s realism.

“The author uses different languages mid-sentence, which leads to confusion…”

World War I wasn’t an English-speaking affair. It was German, French, Russian, Serbian, Hungarian, and more. If a soldier shouted "Verdammt, they're coming!" I kept the Verdammt. Why? Because it matters. Because language tells you who they are. And if a translation is provided — and it always is — then it’s not confusing. It’s immersive.

“The characters look like psychopaths.”

This war didn’t produce polished, poetic protagonists. It tore men apart and rewired their minds. Some soldiers laughed after killing. Others hesitated and watched friends die. My characters reflect that. They crack under pressure, lash out, freeze, bleed — and survive. If that makes them look unstable, then I’ve done my job. War isn’t clean.

“The author is scared to kill characters.”

No. I choose when and why they die. Characters aren’t tokens to throw away to please someone’s craving for Game of Thrones-style body counts. My characters bleed, suffer, and carry scars — physical and mental. And when death comes, it matters.

“The main character is just a self-insert.”

Maxis is not me. But he is the product of thousands of hours of historical research, military insight, and cultural heritage. He embodies the burden of command, the bitterness of survival, and the complexity of war. If that feels “too real” to some readers, maybe they’ve only been fed sanitized, trope-ridden fiction.

“This book feels like a rough draft.”

Funny. A rough draft doesn’t take ten years of study, three published volumes, and input from historians, editors, and readers around the world. But sure — keep telling yourself that.

Final Word

In the end, I wrote Trench 1915 the way I wanted. With grit. With detail. With intent. I didn’t write it to cater to people looking for a sanitized version of war. I wrote it to reflect what the Great War really was — month by month, mission by mission, bullet by bullet.

If that makes some people uncomfortable — good. It’s not meant to be easy. It's meant to be real.

To those who understand that — I’ll see you in the next volume.

— Jake Barrett

https://coff.ee/jakebarrettbooks