For a few months now, I’ve been trying to figure out what I want to say about The Things They Carried. A cousin of mine sent over a copy after reading one of my earlier posts which made her think about this book. Since then, I have scribbled several pages of notes, and have pondered a countless times why to me it has been so affecting. And so it was just this morning, while listening to Tim O’Brien read a letter sent to him by the daughter of a fellow veteran, that I finally mustered the will to talk about a book whose writing perfectly embodied the very essence of its stories.
No one else has written so beautifully about human remains hanging from tree branches.
—Esquire
And so as I lay on the couch with my eyes closed, listening to that 20th anniversary lecture from Cambridge, it struck me that the talk O’Brien delivered was much like the book itself. I was brought back to the memory of reading. The book, of course, is hand-crafted prose and the lecture just casual oratory. But there again was O’Brien, still a writer like the book’s narrator from two decades before, also reading a letter and telling random stories, talking about home and about Nam, recalling moments of grief and laughter and terror and anger; talking of love and loss, of guilt, of his family and children, of his little lad who just a short time ago took a pee at a wire-mesh wastebasket on top of their brand-new carpet because the boy had “two heads”—one that thought his daddy would be mad, and another that thought it would be fun. He also had two heads once, O’Brien confessed to his boy. But despite being against the war even before he was drafted, the book he wrote didn’t come out to be a mere criticism of that bloody affair that snatched him away from a promising year at Harvard.
Though labeled as “a work of fiction,” The Things They Carried has the depth and texture of a real-life story. And much of it probably is, except for some quirky twists that give the stories a tinge of magic realism, a blur between sensation and imagination that may possibly bring to mind the works of Borges as much as Hemingway’s. It reads like a memoir and progresses in the way an old soldier might go about sharing his stories with his grandkids, telling them in fragments, cycling through events and repeating some of them a few times over, offering in each retelling a new spin, a new angle, a new conclusion to a story that never really ends. All wars reach an end, but their stories find no ending.
It wasn’t a war story. It was a love story.
But you can’t say that. All you can do is tell it one more time, patiently, adding and subtracting, making up a few things to get at the real truth . . . You can tell a true war story if you just keep on telling it.
I thought I’d explain why that quote from Esquire is less about the magazine’s dark, clever humor and more about O’Brien’s brilliance as a writer. I thought I’d describe how the title chapter plays out like a set of slides from an old projector, a stream of war-time and peace-time photographs that share a collective tale filled not with cold facts of conflict but with feelings of a familiar humanity. I thought I’d talk about why it’s really more about style and form than about the chaos of warfare, and why the New York Times called it “a book that matters not only to the reader interested in Vietnam but to anyone interested in the craft of writing as well.” I thought about my favorite lines, favorite scenes, stories and sentences that by their sheer, effective beauty make me dream of becoming a writer. I planned to talk about all of them, or one of them. But I’ve realized long before that no word I write here could give this book the honor it merits—not because it’s far better than any other book I’ve reviewed, but because it’s something you just have to read in order to let the beauty touch your heart.
Man’s romantic fascination with war lies not in the hostility of combat, but in our own capacity to express so gracefully the very absence of beauty. Perhaps it’s why we even listened to our grandpa’s changing recollections, why in our tender years of innocence have we had the mind to pay those altered tales some eager attention.
No, war is not beautiful. War is ugly, especially when you’re made to witness your friend’s dismembered corpse hanging from tree branches. But as the lonely soldier sits there in his foxhole, holding a little pencil and little piece of paper, pondering at that little moment that may very well be his last, he sees life for what it is and what it can be—for what it should be. He imagines something beautiful, writes something beautiful. He’s a soldier and he has little time. He has to make beauty fit.
They carried their own lives. The pressures were enormous. In the heat of early afternoon, they would remove their helmets and flak jackets, walking bare, which was dangerous but which helped ease the strain. They would often discard things along the route of march. Purely for comfort, they would throw away rations, blow their Claymores and grenades, no matter, because by nightfall the resupply choppers would arrive with more of the same, then a day or two later still more, fresh watermelons and crates of ammunition and sunglasses and woolen sweaters—the resources were stunning—sparklers for the Fourth of July, colored eggs for Easter—it was the great American war chest—the fruits of science, the smokestacks, the canneries, the arsenals at Hartford, the Minnesota forests, the machine shops, the vast fields of corn and wheat—they carried like freight trains; they carried it on their backs and shoulders—and for all the ambiguities of Vietnam, all the mysteries and unknowns, there was at least the single abiding certainty that they would never be at lost for things to carry.
The Things They Carried
Broadway Books (1998)
To watch a video of Tim O’Brien’s March 25, 2010 lecture, please follow this link to the Forum Network. You may also choose to subscribe to the Forum Network’s Book Tour Podcast and get a weekly dose of authors discussing their works.
Thanks to my lovely young cousin Leona for giving me a copy of this book. I know you didn’t like it all that much (maybe because you were required to read it) but for me it has been a really unforgettable read. And in case you didn’t get to the last page, I must tell you that it’s one of the most touching finales I’ve ever read (which is not even about war at all).
I had not before heard of this book but it sounds very interesting
Yes David, what’s with men’s romantic fascination with war?
@Mel: I think you’ll like it Mel. I found a different paperback edition at Fully Booked some time ago and I’m thinking of buying that copy as well because the paper seems to be better than that of my current copy. But I like the cover of this one better. It’s more dramatic
@Mee: Hmm, I not sure I can give a satisfying answer. I refuse to believe that man (or even men in particular) has an inherent liking for war and bloodshed. And I like to believe that not even those knife-wielding mean-green-killing-machine commandos want war for war itself. At the same time, I think about my favorite movies and I must admit that many of them are either about war or is set in war time. I have a number of books in my shelf that fall under the same category. At least when portrayed in film and literature, war is often romanticized with a kind of pressing drama that feels so poignant, so urgent, so real. I guess for some it’s a desire to feel like a hero, for others a lust for power. Not that it’s right, but carrying a gun and shooting people which you “believe” to be bad guys can give you that feeling of power. Anyway, I’m not really sure. But in literature, at least, it’s just another stage where writers can explore the darker side of the human condition and make it sound compelling enough to be interesting.
(ps: I have the feeling I didn’t answer your question and I didn’t make sense at all, lol!)
Great review — it sounds like a very moving novel. I will add this one to my wish-list.
David, I guess it was more like musing than real question
. I guess there are just some things that men have more interest in (generally speaking) like politics for example. It’s interesting that recently there have been many reviews on books about women that are “left behind” by their husbands to go to war. Like looking from the other end of the spectrum.
I LOVED the audio version of this book; very powerful.
With our young veterans coming back now, we need every literary resource we can find to help us try to even begin to understand.
Gorgeous review as always, Mark David. I’m not often drawn to war stories, but I certainly understand how they would hold a fascination — it’s a state of extremity, isn’t it, when normal rules and expectations are suspended, and one is face to face with mortality in a way that doesn’t normally happen in civilian life. And on the other hand, there are long periods when it’s just so boring (this is from what I’ve heard, not personal experience) — waiting around for orders in uncomfortable conditions, so bored & at the same time so nervous for the order that might come at any time.
Mark David, as you were (almost) at a loss for words about this book, I feel the same way about your review. At least I can say that your review is exceptional. I love your descriptions of the grandfather telling stories about the war, in fragments, in a cyclical way, retelling and altering them.
I look forward to reading The Things They Carried.
@Tricia: Thank you! Hope it proves to be a stimulating read for you as well
@Mee: Hmm, that is a good perspective to write about. There’s this TV drama I used to watch called The Unit and it featured a lot of that. It does make you feel more empathy for these families as you realize that they too face a serious battle at the “homefront” when their husbands or fathers are sent away on secretive missions and they don’t know when exactly they’ll be able to come back (or if they ever will).
@Diane: Oh, was it O’Brien who did the reading? I think his voice would do really well for these stories
@Shelley: Yes and I think there happens to be a number of young veterans who are now drawn to writing. Some of them were introduced to the craft as a form of therapy. I’ve recently heard on a radio documentary that somewhere around 100,000 Americans today return from war with PTSD, and many of them suffer the way the soldiers in this book suffered when they got back home. It’s an alarming statistic, isn’t it?
@Emily: Gee thanks
It’s good that you pointed that out, because there are parts of this book that did talk about that: the wait. Waiting is a killer too, and long periods of boredom after intense periods of battle is what sometimes make soldiers lose it. What happens when a bunch of stressed out men with big guns and heavy emotional burdens are left idle for days in a foreign landscape which they’ve grown to hate? It can be a scary thing.
@Suko: I hope you like it! You’ve recently reviewed The Lotus Eaters, and one thing about that book that caught my attention is that it’s praised by Tim O’Brien. My thought was, if O’Brien liked that book which is also about Vietnam, then it really must be good. Thanks!
David, you know I have a penchant for loving novels about/during war, even if I don’t necessarily intend to. I’ve been wanting to read this, but you make it even more tempting. Sounds beautiful.
To Mee, my husband is certainly obsessed with war movies and such. And guess what, my sons are, too. Go figure.
@Claire: Oh yes, we’ve talked about this before, haven’t we? And I remember you saying that it’s already caught your eye. Well, I have a really good feeling that you’ll like this. The form is just right. And there’s even a chapter entitled Form, which talks about why the book is written the way it is. Very well written.
About your husband and your boys loving war movies, well, I guess that means it’s only normal that I love ‘em too
@Mee: I just remembered, have you seen the film A League of Their Own? It’s about an all-girls baseball league that was formed because most of the male ballplayers at that time were drafted into service. It’s a really good movie
Hi there cousin, this book really came to mind when I read your post about being a soldier. True, there are some books I don’t like for our required reading. But, I try to read them; for the sake of discovering/learning new things....and my for my grade. I’m not drawn to war stories, therefore I did not know the book would that amazing. I am glad you enjoyed the book.
Hello cousin! Yes, this is definitely one of the most well-written books I’ve ever read... SO GLAD to see you drop by my blog
What a wonderful review! This book has been waiting patiently on my desk to be read, and I think I’ve been hesitant because I’ve heard it’s so heavy. I’m looking forward to giving it a try now. I’ll link to your review on War Through the Generations.
I am looking forward to reading this book. My favorite war writer is Erich Maria Remarque and some people say that this book is written in a similar style. I don’t know that, I need to check it out.