This is a readable English-language version (nicely translated by Maya Latynski) of Majewski’s book first published in 2019. It could well have been given an alternative title, maybe Lessons in How Not to Do Diplomacy and Conflict Prevention. It provides a particularly unflattering description of British reactions to events in 1938, in the process telling us something about attitudes in the British government and diplomatic corps at the time. Imperial self-certainty was still alive and well. In this respect, the book could even have been subtitled The Unhelpful Mental Legacy of Colonialism. Neville Chamberlain’s radio broadcast of September 27, 1938 (211–12) shows clearly that Czechoslovakia’s status as a sovereign state was far from the forefront of London’s thinking. It was more of an inconvenience to the pursuit of great power politics. But do we really need another book about Munich?

Justifying his text, Majewski describes the crisis of 1938 as “one of the central events of the twentieth century” (1). More importantly, he believes it has present-day relevance, especially in the light of what is happening in Ukraine. Smaller countries in central and eastern Europe are haunted by the “nightmare” that, in the face of external aggression, the west might “once again abandon its allies” (1). From this point of view, if Chamberlain thought he had found a “peace for our time,” Majewski believes he is presenting a story for our time (227–28).

For this reader, however, particularly original is the author’s method of presentation. Majewski adopts “a reporter-like form of narration” in order “to find the most lively way to convey the dynamics of the Munich crisis and … its epic nature” (2). Correspondingly, this is not organized as a traditional history text. It is neither a flowing narrative nor an extended discussion structured by themes. It resembles a journal kept by an omnipresent observer. Accordingly, it is divided into sections, each of which (typically) lasts between two and four pages. Individually, the sections are entitled with the day of the week, its date and a location. Each section then describes and analyzes a specific event, thus offering an insight into the gradually unfurling crisis.

The approach resembles something you might find in a screen play or crime thriller. From the outset it throws the reader into detailed events, the significance of which only becomes apparent with time. In one section you observe high politics in Prague’s castle; in another you hear the de-briefing of a (supposed) Czech spy; next Adolf Hitler is boring Benito Mussolini in one of Rome’s galleries or a British diplomat is composing a stupid poem. In this way, the text fills with anecdotes and attempts to conjure up the emotional worlds of the key protagonists. It is as if the richly varied book progresses through disassociated flashbacks which grow together as the story builds up in your mind.

This might irritate some readers. As the text jumps around, so (initially at least) there can be a sense of the story fragmenting. This sense is exacerbated by the inclusion of quite a lot of colorful material that is of only marginal relevance (conjecture about Josef Beran’s “manure silo” near Strakonice [14]), also by important insights sometimes being spaced far apart (the spy Voral is introduced on page 35 but readers only discover his true status on page 70). At times, it is almost as if the reader is wading, day-by-day, through a strange kind of newspaper from 1938, one in which key themes are not always prioritized as expected. On the positive side, perhaps this is at least in part a deliberate ploy to divest the reader of pre-conceptions, challenge the wisdom of hindsight, and oppose the “reading of history backwards.”

Certainly, the book has been written with zest, humor, and courage. Its adherence to day-based chronology becomes a slow-burning fuse leading towards a depressing climax. When the text is at its best, it takes us to the heart of proceedings and encourages our historical imaginations. In the process, Majewski raises important questions about how historians present their materials. He deserves substantial praise both for doing something unusual and for attempting to engage readers in a novel way. If we are lucky, the book will help stimulate others to think more creatively about how to present the past.