Going After Cacciato

Warning: This review contains mild to severe plot spoilers.

Paul Berlin is a member of the United States Army during the Vietnam War. While he is in Vietnam, a fellow member of his squad, Cacciato, goes AWOL. This is what happens after, or what could have happened, or maybe happened and maybe not. Because sometimes the hardest thing to see is the truth.

Let’s talk about internal conflict.

This book was rife with it: the conflict between freedom and obligation, between a sense of duty and a sense of self, between the glory of possibility and the harshness of reality. And that was just the beginning—by the end the book has explored so much more.

It's unfortunate that I can't say much more without getting into spoilers, however slight.

--SPOILER WARNING--

I will admit that there were hints of the exact nature of the internal conflict throughout the book. Strange people and actions, items that should have been accounted for and yet were not—all of it combined to create a hallucinogenic effect. The brief spots of confusion do resolve by the end, but the long irresolution of strange events serve to make the story much more effective.

The buildup of conflict within the book is partly due to the fact that the suspension of belief used by O’Brien is amazingly powerful. With the use of short, powerful phrases, and brief transitions from past tense to present, O’Brien creates an image of the Vietnam War that is both powerful and real. From the first sentence, he captures the reader’s attention and holds it until the end, exploring the deeper issues of war along the way: what is war? What is it to say that the war is over? And is it really over? What does it mean to go after Cacciato? Is it a dream, or is it something else?

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Notes: Going After Cacciato is Tim O’Brien’s second novel, and was originally published in 1978 by Delacorte Press. The version I read was paperback, published in 1999 by Broadway Books, a division of Random House, by arrangement with Delacorte Press. The cover art was designed by Nicola Ferguson. For more information about Tim O’Brien and his works, please visit his website.

Realistic historical fiction, 336 pages, close third person point of view (bordering on omniscient third in places)

Topics: The definitions of war and peace, reality versus possibility, freedom and happiness versus duty and obligation, fear

Warnings: Profanity scattered throughout. Violence and death, though it is stated as a fact, and is not explicitly condoned (please note that this is a novel about the Vietnam War, and that violence and death are inherently a part of that). Some non-detailed references to sexual acts and fantasies, and a few non-detailed references to kissing.

Five out of Five.

The Book Thief

Liesel Meminger is an orphan in Nazi Germany. Given up by her mother, she is sent to live with Hans and Rosa Hubermann near Munich. It is there that she learns to read; it is also where she learns to steal--first one book, then the next. Dividing her time between reading stolen books with her foster father, playing soccer in the streets, and attending Hitler Youth Activities, Liesel learns that life isn’t all about nightmares of her dead brother. After all, she has Rudy, the boy who once fancied himself as Jesse Owens to spite the Führer. But the distant war is coming closer, and soon childhood games are interspersed items of a more serious nature: the threat of guns and bombs. And then there is the secret, one she can’t even tell her best friend. Max is a German; he's also Jewish. He is living in the basement. And it’s up to Liesel to make certain no suspicion falls on her shoulders.

I’ll start off by saying that The Book Thief is a very powerful novel. It has an intense take on reality, life and death, and has an emotional quality that pushes against the border of reality. That’s my version of “Wow.”

The harsh, grating realism of the piece is what makes it powerful, especially towards the end. The blatant enthusiasm of Rudy, the raw stubbornness of Liesel, the sheer humanness of Max; these characterizations are what makes the characters stick out in the mind. The vivacity of their emotions defines them as people, and not simply separate and aloof entities. And Max is a person, instead of a stranger.

I will admit that the beginning is a little long-winded. Certainly, the actions taken during that time become important later, but Death, as narrator, seems to drag the story on. The only entertainment provided for me during that time was said narrator’s tendency to interject in the telling of his own story with important statements. When things begin picking up, those statements carry more and more weight, until they become essential to the story itself. This element of the story allows the narration to carry more of an omniscient presence than the first person point of view normally allows.

Said presence is used in part to dispel the tension of the moment. We know from the beginning that certain characters die, and this fact is repeated in a matter-of-fact, though regretting, tone. Death is sorry for what he has to do. The sorrows of humanity do not escape him, and his narration is often pulled off on tangents, with great effect. His style of narration allows for flashbacks that aren’t quite flashbacks, because they don’t seem to be so; instead they appear to be pain-filled restatements of the past. It is the presence of these tangents, when placed in parallel to the main story, that fills the book with a kind of pain and horror only a too-vivid memory can inflict.

I would recommend this book for just about anyone, with a few exceptions. The message delivered is extremely powerful in its emotive qualities, and the actions of the characters speak for themselves. However, the sheer rawness of the described violence may be enough to upset some readers, as may the fairly liberal use of swearing. Though it is worth it to note that these elements, one full of pain, the other matter-of-fact, serves to help pound the book through the barrier between harsh reality and harmless fiction.

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Notes: The Book Thief is Markus Zusak's fifth and latest book. It was first published in 2005 by Pan Macmillan Australia. The version I read was hardcover, published in 2006 by Knopf Books for Young Readers, an imprint of Random House Children’s books, a division of Random House.

Young Adult Historical Fiction (though some places have it marked as Children’s Historical Fiction), 552 pages, first person point of view

Topics: Hope, friendship, family, loyalty, sacrifice, failure, success, compassion, life, death, censorship, voice

Publisher’s age recommendation: Unavailable (though I’ve seen it placed anywhere between 13+ to 14+)

Warnings: Prevalent violence (bombing, cruelty, hitting; though it is imperative to the book’s impact; keep in mind that it is set during World War II). Moderate use of drugs (smoking) and minor use of alcohol. Use of drugs (smoking) and alcohol by legal minors, although it is implied that this is legal according to the setting of the book. Thievery, though in some instances this is not condoned. Anti-Semitic and racist talk, though this is not condoned. Liberal swearing and prevalent religious-themed curses.