A fresh re-examination of race in the military.
Prewitt’s (Snake Walkers, 2005) mystery confronts the wages of both war and racial conflict.
Anthony Andrews, a black reporter for the Washington Post in 1969, is tasked with finding positive depictions of the black soldier’s experience in Vietnam, what his editor calls “hero stories.” Andrews is embedded in an active, combat-ready unit and given an eye-opening taste of the horrors of war. He sees seven black soldiers return from some nebulous mission shrouded in mystery. Andrews learns that those seven—originally 15—are returning from a harrowing experience no one seems anxious to discuss. He also discovers that their alleged mission was more like penance for what may have been a riot, uprising, or some kind of brawling melee that involved more than 40 black soldiers angry at their white superiors for mistreatment. After two months investigating the story and hitting a dead end, Andrews returns stateside, haunted by the trauma of his violent experience. Andrews’ angry and disillusioned wife eventually leaves him, and his once-peaceful life starts to unravel. He finally receives an unsolicited phone call that potentially promises to move him closer to the truth about his stonewalled case. This is a nuanced exploration of the racial tensions that express themselves within the pressurized context of war. Prewitt does a fine job allowing those tensions to reveal themselves through the characters rather than through authorial proselytizing. Some of the plot development, though, seems needlessly compressed and, as a result, melodramatic. Andrews is quick to fall apart after his first frightening experience in Vietnam, just as his wife is inexplicably ready to leave him with their young child after a few weeks of arguments over domestic banalities. Also, some narrative anomalies are more distracting than gripping: one soldier, nicknamed Professor, aids his comrades with his psychic abilities. As a whole, however, this is an intelligently crafted tale, brimming with both suspense and social commentary.
A fresh re-examination of race in the military.Pub Date: July 30, 2015
ISBN: N/A
Page Count: 354
Publisher: Dog Ear Publisher
Review Posted Online: July 20, 2015
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 1, 2015
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
A tasty, if not always tasteful, tale of supernatural mayhem that fans of King and Crichton alike will enjoy.
Are we not men? We are—well, ask Bigfoot, as Brooks does in this delightful yarn, following on his bestseller World War Z(2006).
A zombie apocalypse is one thing. A volcanic eruption is quite another, for, as the journalist who does a framing voice-over narration for Brooks’ latest puts it, when Mount Rainier popped its cork, “it was the psychological aspect, the hyperbole-fueled hysteria that had ended up killing the most people.” Maybe, but the sasquatches whom the volcano displaced contributed to the statistics, too, if only out of self-defense. Brooks places the epicenter of the Bigfoot war in a high-tech hideaway populated by the kind of people you might find in a Jurassic Park franchise: the schmo who doesn’t know how to do much of anything but tries anyway, the well-intentioned bleeding heart, the know-it-all intellectual who turns out to know the wrong things, the immigrant with a tough backstory and an instinct for survival. Indeed, the novel does double duty as a survival manual, packed full of good advice—for instance, try not to get wounded, for “injury turns you from a giver to a taker. Taking up our resources, our time to care for you.” Brooks presents a case for making room for Bigfoot in the world while peppering his narrative with timely social criticism about bad behavior on the human side of the conflict: The explosion of Rainier might have been better forecast had the president not slashed the budget of the U.S. Geological Survey, leading to “immediate suspension of the National Volcano Early Warning System,” and there’s always someone around looking to monetize the natural disaster and the sasquatch-y onslaught that follows. Brooks is a pro at building suspense even if it plays out in some rather spectacularly yucky episodes, one involving a short spear that takes its name from “the sucking sound of pulling it out of the dead man’s heart and lungs.” Grossness aside, it puts you right there on the scene.
A tasty, if not always tasteful, tale of supernatural mayhem that fans of King and Crichton alike will enjoy.Pub Date: June 16, 2020
ISBN: 978-1-9848-2678-7
Page Count: 304
Publisher: Del Rey/Ballantine
Review Posted Online: Feb. 9, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2020
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK TO SCREEN
An author to watch, Buehlman is now two for two in delivering eerie, offbeat novels with admirable literary skill.
Cormac McCarthy's The Road meets Chaucer's Canterbury Tales in this frightful medieval epic about an orphan girl with visionary powers in plague-devastated France.
The year is 1348. The conflict between France and England is nothing compared to the all-out war building between good angels and fallen ones for control of heaven (though a scene in which soldiers are massacred by a rainbow of arrows is pretty horrific). Among mortals, only the girl, Delphine, knows of the cataclysm to come. Angels speak to her, issuing warnings—and a command to run. A pack of thieves is about to carry her off and rape her when she is saved by a disgraced knight, Thomas, with whom she teams on a march across the parched landscape. Survivors desperate for food have made donkey a delicacy and don't mind eating human flesh. The few healthy people left lock themselves in, not wanting to risk contact with strangers, no matter how dire the strangers' needs. To venture out at night is suicidal: Horrific forces swirl about, ravaging living forms. Lethal black clouds, tentacled water creatures and assorted monsters are comfortable in the daylight hours as well. The knight and a third fellow journeyer, a priest, have difficulty believing Delphine's visions are real, but with oblivion lurking in every shadow, they don't have any choice but to trust her. The question becomes, can she trust herself? Buehlman, who drew upon his love of Fitzgerald and Hemingway in his acclaimed Southern horror novel, Those Across the River (2011), slips effortlessly into a different kind of literary sensibility, one that doesn't scrimp on earthy humor and lyrical writing in the face of unspeakable horrors. The power of suggestion is the author's strong suit, along with first-rate storytelling talent.
An author to watch, Buehlman is now two for two in delivering eerie, offbeat novels with admirable literary skill.Pub Date: Oct. 2, 2012
ISBN: 978-1-937007-86-7
Page Count: 432
Publisher: Ace/Berkley
Review Posted Online: Sept. 1, 2012
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 15, 2012
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