Matt McAvoy Book Review

You always know what you’re going to get with Glyn Haynie: in a nutshell, some of the very best Vietnam War drama, fictionalized with no frills and no gloss, by a veteran and authority in the subject.  And this bite-sized portion – which is ideally read in one dedicated evening – is no different in terms of its quality and impact.  Still the fear, day-to-day uncertainty and routine mundaneness of the war zone – walking, thinking about home, sleeping, eating, fighting and hoping always for more favourable orders – are perfectly portrayed, despite the shorter than usual word count.  Indeed, Glyn’s novella – the first in a series – hits all the notes a novella should, whilst fitting very neatly into the niche of the author’s perpetual literary comfort zone.  He doesn’t repeat or try to emulate his novels, but this could easily be a spin-off, so signature Glyn is it; its quality and style of prose are seamless.  But the decision to write a series of novellas is a good one, if this instalment is anything to go by; the characters are immediately engaging, it has an intriguing standalone story and finishes on a note which leaves the reader satisfied, with an overall question regarding a mystery – perhaps even the madness – of war.  Dramatic without trying to be; affecting without forcing the matter; and as futile and frustrating as any warts-and-all war book should be. 

Perhaps most appealing about this book, though, is the introduction of a weapon I’ve not before encountered in any Vietnam War stories I have read, yet we all know it to be a vitally important one in conflict and indeed enforcement generally, throughout history: a dog called Alice; a gutsy and loyal K9 unit, whose part in this book is developed with affection and gratitude.  The value of Alice is not taken for granted, as her handler clearly points out in one sobering scene for the “grunts”, and nor can it be exaggerated.

I can’t wait to read the next novella in the series.  I hope the vein continues of focusing on a specific theme within the wider context, with which the reader may not be overly familiar – that is, after all, what veterans like Glyn, and all other experts in their field, can teach us.  If you want to know ‘Nam as closely as it was for the soldiers, without sensationalism, glorification, horrification or flippant dramatization, then, to put it simply, read Glyn.