Matt McAvoy Book Review

A beautifully written and poignant book exploring the long-term effects of war on the human psyche, this is as good a study of post-war trauma and melancholy reflection as you are likely to read, delivered by Stephanie in a thought-provoking and warmly endearing style.

Eye Contact Over Truk is all about its themes and its characters, as two men go on a wreck-diving excursion to the South Pacific island – the site of a devastating air and naval battle in the American-Japanese branch of World War Two – for their own reasons, following the heart-rending deaths of two respective people close to them.  As is to be expected, there is suspicion and profound introspection, followed by the inevitable personal growth.  Told on parallel timelines, we witness both sides of the backstory, and the mutually catastrophic effects, not only physically but mentally. 

The concept of war is obviously one with devastating implications for all involved – except, that is, the greedy, power-mad despots behind them, hiding often thousands of miles away behind their curtain of protection and luxury, a factor Stephanie all too eloquently addresses.  However, unlike many war books, this explores the mental damage of being forced to kill, sometimes indiscriminately and in vast numbers.  Many books I have read from veterans seem to imply the worst psychological harm to be not only the death and destruction witnessed, and the loss of friends and loved ones, but most pensively that caused by being made into a murderer for duty.  The themes explored in this book are those of loss, honour (particularly on the Japanese side) and, most of all, guilt.  We often consider how soldiers are to be reintegrated into a post-war society, but this book goes way beyond that, to the later, more reflective years, as these men reach the twilight of their life and begin to seriously consider their younger actions.  For Nick, the American bomber pilot, diving the wreckage of ships he literally sunk is not morbid, as his Japanese counterpart implies, but rather cathartic.  Indeed, his own trauma has been held back, distracted from by a life with his loving wife.  When she dies, in the book’s opening scenes, it is the catalyst for his PTSD floodgates being flung open; he soon comes to learn that the depression he is spiralling into isn’t simply about her loss, but rather the onset of decades-delayed repression of his actions under order.

This is a brilliant book, not heavy on action, though what there is is utterly engaging, realistic and thoughtfully portrayed; even at the time Nick is wondering why, yet mechanically going through the motions.  The real star of this book is its descriptive exploration of the human condition in the context of war and trauma.  Yet, don’t be deterred by thinking it is a study in gloom and sombreness; despite those themes, it is surprisingly lovely and even uplifting to read – and Stephanie is a fantastic, empathetic and pensive writer.