Book review? Pardon?
Yes, a book review. I feel like writing, and since I don't have a gaming group to write for, I'm gonna write for you lot instead...
So. The book is A Real Good War, by Sam Halpert. The blurb describes it as his debut novel, written at age 77. It's also rather good. During WWII, Sam Halpert was a B-17 navigator, and flew 35 missions. Daylight bombing, over Germany; frighteningly close to suicidal once, never mind 35 times. The tale is told through the eyes of an un-named B-17 navigator, from the end of basic training through to the end of his tour. We meet the crew he trained as part of, we meet the various grotesque characters inhabiting the airbase he flies from, and we meet the few civilians he has dealings with. All have their own personalities and flaws. In the course of the novel, the boy who flew out to the UK becomes the combat veteran, undistinguished but vital. Through temporary reassignments his crew is slowly whittled away; his friends, and those he tolerates because he must, gone in a flash. A recurring theme is the Magic Number; how many missions until you've finished your tour.
It's hard to explain why this book had such an effect on me. It's compelling, despite not being in any way "literary". Part of it is the sheer mundanity of it; the way shocking violence and the everpresent risk of death become normal, accustomed. All I know is there were tears in my eyes when I finished the book.
In one sentence: a book that does for the American bomber wings what Das Boot did for the U-Boats. It's by no means sweetness and light, but I found it a rewarding read.
So. The book is A Real Good War, by Sam Halpert. The blurb describes it as his debut novel, written at age 77. It's also rather good. During WWII, Sam Halpert was a B-17 navigator, and flew 35 missions. Daylight bombing, over Germany; frighteningly close to suicidal once, never mind 35 times. The tale is told through the eyes of an un-named B-17 navigator, from the end of basic training through to the end of his tour. We meet the crew he trained as part of, we meet the various grotesque characters inhabiting the airbase he flies from, and we meet the few civilians he has dealings with. All have their own personalities and flaws. In the course of the novel, the boy who flew out to the UK becomes the combat veteran, undistinguished but vital. Through temporary reassignments his crew is slowly whittled away; his friends, and those he tolerates because he must, gone in a flash. A recurring theme is the Magic Number; how many missions until you've finished your tour.
It's hard to explain why this book had such an effect on me. It's compelling, despite not being in any way "literary". Part of it is the sheer mundanity of it; the way shocking violence and the everpresent risk of death become normal, accustomed. All I know is there were tears in my eyes when I finished the book.
In one sentence: a book that does for the American bomber wings what Das Boot did for the U-Boats. It's by no means sweetness and light, but I found it a rewarding read.