Dos Passos does away with the formality of moving characters around and, like jazz, just plays the notes that really sing. New York is left in a blur, the deck of the ship, a river, Paris, the camion’s carrying the men to their death, the abbey, the ripe fruit … and always the smell. The man with no nose,the smell of artillery, death, poison gas, roses, wine.

Old culture is corrupted and replaced with war, sin.