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logenbarry's review
dark
funny
informative
reflective
medium-paced
4.0
With a little poetic flair, this memoir provides yet another look into the war in the pacific. Decided I should read it after watching the HBO adaption. Liked it more than the other books as the author took my pleasure in his writing.
justabean_reads's review
adventurous
dark
funny
medium-paced
4.0
This is the 1957 memoir by the US Marine Crops machine gunner/scout Robert Leckie, who many of you will remember as "that fuck up with way too many sex scenes from The Pacific."
The memoir is one of the three tent poles the series is based on, and the one written closest to the war. As opposed to Burgin's book, which came out after the tv show went to air, Leckie's was started in 1951 and is meant as a work of creative non-fiction. That is, it's not just a war record, or setting the record straight (though apparently it started because he was grumpy with the musical South Pacific), but is meant to actually be a book people want to read, as written by a professional author, not a soldier with a helper-writer.
Having read a lot of the soldier/helper writer books that came out after the series (Winters x2, Guarnere/Heffron, Malarkey, and Burgin, plus Chester Nez), I will say that the professional author angle was a nice change. The prose in this is snappy, funny, full of life and character. It's very much what you'd expect from someone who did sports reporting in the 1950s. You get a lot more life and personality out of descriptions, and there's an actual narrative structure to the thing. That said, it also felt over studied in places, and I wondered if even during the events he was trying to find a way to put the war into words, and contextualise his experience through language. Some of it feels like he's worked on phrases so much they don't feel real any more, but like an image of what he thinks the feeling should be. And there were times I missed the more stripped down simple storytelling of a soldier as told to...
The book strictly covers the war, from Leckie signing up after Pearl Harbour to the Japanese surrender, including training, Guadalcanal, Melbourne, Cape Gloucester, Pavuvu, Paleliu, and various military hospitals along the way. No real names are used, and I enjoyed all the silly nick names he gave people. He is a lot more open and frank about the ups and downs of military life, the cruelties and the crimes, the stolen joys, the imperfections than a lot of the other authors. I vaguely feel like he and Burgin may have been in different wars.
On the whole, if you want a war memoir that's actually a pleasure to read on its own grounds, I'd pick this one of the bunch I've read so far, so long as you don't mind vaguely pretentious my classical allusions let me show them to you, etc.
The memoir is one of the three tent poles the series is based on, and the one written closest to the war. As opposed to Burgin's book, which came out after the tv show went to air, Leckie's was started in 1951 and is meant as a work of creative non-fiction. That is, it's not just a war record, or setting the record straight (though apparently it started because he was grumpy with the musical South Pacific), but is meant to actually be a book people want to read, as written by a professional author, not a soldier with a helper-writer.
Having read a lot of the soldier/helper writer books that came out after the series (Winters x2, Guarnere/Heffron, Malarkey, and Burgin, plus Chester Nez), I will say that the professional author angle was a nice change. The prose in this is snappy, funny, full of life and character. It's very much what you'd expect from someone who did sports reporting in the 1950s. You get a lot more life and personality out of descriptions, and there's an actual narrative structure to the thing. That said, it also felt over studied in places, and I wondered if even during the events he was trying to find a way to put the war into words, and contextualise his experience through language. Some of it feels like he's worked on phrases so much they don't feel real any more, but like an image of what he thinks the feeling should be. And there were times I missed the more stripped down simple storytelling of a soldier as told to...
The book strictly covers the war, from Leckie signing up after Pearl Harbour to the Japanese surrender, including training, Guadalcanal, Melbourne, Cape Gloucester, Pavuvu, Paleliu, and various military hospitals along the way. No real names are used, and I enjoyed all the silly nick names he gave people. He is a lot more open and frank about the ups and downs of military life, the cruelties and the crimes, the stolen joys, the imperfections than a lot of the other authors. I vaguely feel like he and Burgin may have been in different wars.
On the whole, if you want a war memoir that's actually a pleasure to read on its own grounds, I'd pick this one of the bunch I've read so far, so long as you don't mind vaguely pretentious my classical allusions let me show them to you, etc.
kirkspockreads's review
5.0
I finished this on July 4th, how fitting!
I loved this book. I love Leckie's writing style, it's so poetic and flowing. I recommend it to everyone. Bit depressing though, but that's WW2 for you.
I loved this book. I love Leckie's writing style, it's so poetic and flowing. I recommend it to everyone. Bit depressing though, but that's WW2 for you.
ssindc's review
5.0
Wish I'd read this earlier - many, many years ago. It's a wonderful book about one individual Marine's (rifleman's) experience in WWII. The entire book is worthwhile, but I found I was particularly fascinated and enamored by the lengthy passage recalling the Marines' extraordinary efforts during the Guadalcanal campaign. Great stuff!
OK, OK, it's not light reading, and it's a WWII memoir - it's brutal and sad and graphic and poignant and, all too often, frightening and depressing. My guess is the reason the book stood the test of time is that the author, before he enlisted (and paid a, um, steep price of admission for doing so), he was a writer/reporter/journalist. The book is extremely well constructed, the prose is tight, the descriptions are vivid, and the voice comes across, nay resonates, as extremely genuine.
One of the most intriguing aspects of the book is how consistently the author keeps the first person narrative bounded by personal experience. This is one Marine's experience and, with a minor exception in the conclusion (which, frankly, did not move me as much as many other passages in the book), the author rarely broadens the perspective. In other words, it's not intended as a grand or all-encompassing history, it's a memoir, and an effective, convincing, and compelling one. I admit that (personally), I was least amused by the author's (and his colleagues) liberty (or leave) experiences, particularly with regard to the great debauch. But full points to the author for chronicling his missteps, transgressions, and failures in addition to his finest hours, his learning curve, the monotony and frustration of service, the transcendence of battlefield friend/companionship, anger, hunger, and, yes, his fear and discomfort and despair.
One can't help but compare this (much older) work with the relatively recent (and sublime) fictional (but not entirely fictional) Vietnam bestseller and award winner, Matterhorn, which I've heard folks describe as a GoPro/helmet-cam tour of Vietnam (before GoPro/helmet-cams were invented).... Part of me is inclined to re-read Matterhorn for comparison's sake ... but I won't - alas, too many books, never enough time....
One theme that it hard to ignore in the book is the element of sacrifice, and - for my money - here is where the author is most eloquent, whether speaking of the issue directly or indirectly. Jaded as the author may have been (or have become), it's still a different time and place and culture than ... well ... war in the new Millennium, particularly in Iraq and Afghanistan. There's very little in this book in common with the popular recent books about (overnight celebrity) Navy SEALs or snipers or ... or ... even the excellent vignettes by embedded reporters such as Finkel's excellent work in The Good Soldiers or Thank You For Your Service. It's not just a different time and place. It's a different voice and culture and worldview and .... Well, you'll have to decide for yourself.
A terrible tale told by a talented writer. There's a reason some books stand the test of time. This is a good reminder of (or introduction to) our ancestor's service and sacrifice. Well worth reading.
OK, OK, it's not light reading, and it's a WWII memoir - it's brutal and sad and graphic and poignant and, all too often, frightening and depressing. My guess is the reason the book stood the test of time is that the author, before he enlisted (and paid a, um, steep price of admission for doing so), he was a writer/reporter/journalist. The book is extremely well constructed, the prose is tight, the descriptions are vivid, and the voice comes across, nay resonates, as extremely genuine.
One of the most intriguing aspects of the book is how consistently the author keeps the first person narrative bounded by personal experience. This is one Marine's experience and, with a minor exception in the conclusion (which, frankly, did not move me as much as many other passages in the book), the author rarely broadens the perspective. In other words, it's not intended as a grand or all-encompassing history, it's a memoir, and an effective, convincing, and compelling one. I admit that (personally), I was least amused by the author's (and his colleagues) liberty (or leave) experiences, particularly with regard to the great debauch. But full points to the author for chronicling his missteps, transgressions, and failures in addition to his finest hours, his learning curve, the monotony and frustration of service, the transcendence of battlefield friend/companionship, anger, hunger, and, yes, his fear and discomfort and despair.
One can't help but compare this (much older) work with the relatively recent (and sublime) fictional (but not entirely fictional) Vietnam bestseller and award winner, Matterhorn, which I've heard folks describe as a GoPro/helmet-cam tour of Vietnam (before GoPro/helmet-cams were invented).... Part of me is inclined to re-read Matterhorn for comparison's sake ... but I won't - alas, too many books, never enough time....
One theme that it hard to ignore in the book is the element of sacrifice, and - for my money - here is where the author is most eloquent, whether speaking of the issue directly or indirectly. Jaded as the author may have been (or have become), it's still a different time and place and culture than ... well ... war in the new Millennium, particularly in Iraq and Afghanistan. There's very little in this book in common with the popular recent books about (overnight celebrity) Navy SEALs or snipers or ... or ... even the excellent vignettes by embedded reporters such as Finkel's excellent work in The Good Soldiers or Thank You For Your Service. It's not just a different time and place. It's a different voice and culture and worldview and .... Well, you'll have to decide for yourself.
A terrible tale told by a talented writer. There's a reason some books stand the test of time. This is a good reminder of (or introduction to) our ancestor's service and sacrifice. Well worth reading.
markk's review
3.0
I first learned of this book when I read that it was being used as one of the sources for a new miniseries about the Pacific theater in the Second World War. Having enjoyed the other source material being used, E. B. Sledge’s superb memoir, [b:With the Old Breed: At Peleliu and Okinawa|771332|With the Old Breed At Peleliu and Okinawa|Eugene B. Sledge|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1297640051s/771332.jpg|757389], I decided to track down a copy of Leckie’s account and read it for myself. Because of this, I found myself comparing the two works as I read it, which influenced my overall opinion of the book.
In many ways, the experiences of the two men were similar. Both were civilians prior to the Second World War; Leckie enlisted in the Marines a month after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. His account of basic training feels incredibly authentic, in part because of his attention to details. Leckie captures much of the mundane minutiae of learning how to be a Marine, from the bureaucratic experience of inoculation to the quest for a good time on leave. This sense of authenticity continues as he describes his deployment to Guadalcanal with the First Marine Division and his engagement with the war there. These experiences form the best part of the book, as his initial encounter with life as a Marine in both training and war reflect his interest in the novelty of it all.
From Guadalcanal, Leckie’s unit was returned to Australia for rest and refitting. This transformation into what he calls a “lotus-eater” also bears a real sense of verisimilitude, as unlike many memoirs of war he does not gloss over the search for release that often characterized breaks from the battles. It is here, though, that his account flags a little, and his return to combat in New Britain as part of Operation Cartwheel was perhaps the least interesting part of the book. The book improves with his subsequent experiences in the hospital in Banika and his final, abbreviated deployment to Peleliu, which ended with his injury and return to the States for the duration of the war.
Reading this book, it is easy to see why it stands out as an account of the Second World War. Leckie’s prose brings alive both the mundane routines of service and the violence of combat. It is when he is between the two that the book suffers, as his efforts at evocative prose about his surroundings in the jungle suffer from being a little overwrought, particularly in comparison to Sledge’s plainer, more straightforward descriptions. Yet both need to be read for a fascinating portrait of what the war was like for the “new boots” who gave up their lives as civilians to fight in the humid jungles and barren islands of the Pacific.
In many ways, the experiences of the two men were similar. Both were civilians prior to the Second World War; Leckie enlisted in the Marines a month after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. His account of basic training feels incredibly authentic, in part because of his attention to details. Leckie captures much of the mundane minutiae of learning how to be a Marine, from the bureaucratic experience of inoculation to the quest for a good time on leave. This sense of authenticity continues as he describes his deployment to Guadalcanal with the First Marine Division and his engagement with the war there. These experiences form the best part of the book, as his initial encounter with life as a Marine in both training and war reflect his interest in the novelty of it all.
From Guadalcanal, Leckie’s unit was returned to Australia for rest and refitting. This transformation into what he calls a “lotus-eater” also bears a real sense of verisimilitude, as unlike many memoirs of war he does not gloss over the search for release that often characterized breaks from the battles. It is here, though, that his account flags a little, and his return to combat in New Britain as part of Operation Cartwheel was perhaps the least interesting part of the book. The book improves with his subsequent experiences in the hospital in Banika and his final, abbreviated deployment to Peleliu, which ended with his injury and return to the States for the duration of the war.
Reading this book, it is easy to see why it stands out as an account of the Second World War. Leckie’s prose brings alive both the mundane routines of service and the violence of combat. It is when he is between the two that the book suffers, as his efforts at evocative prose about his surroundings in the jungle suffer from being a little overwrought, particularly in comparison to Sledge’s plainer, more straightforward descriptions. Yet both need to be read for a fascinating portrait of what the war was like for the “new boots” who gave up their lives as civilians to fight in the humid jungles and barren islands of the Pacific.