An American soldier returning from Vietnam struggles with flashbacks and the demands of reintegrating into civilian life in this novel by Hartney.
On a flight out of Vietnam in March 1970, Reid Holcombe finds himself surrounded by fellow U.S. Marines celebrating the ends of their final tours of duty. Reid just wants to forget what he’s seen and done in combat and return to his family’s South Carolina tobacco farm. Things have changed back home: His father has died; his sister, Angela, is running the farm; and his wife, Ellie, had an affair with local consultant Diana Welsch. Reid, while deployed, had an affair with a Vietnamese medic. Instead of trying to reconnect with his spouse, he chooses to live on the struggling farm with his sibling while wrestling with his inner demons. The novel also tells the story of Joe Terrell, a Black soldier who returned to rural South Carolina, where he faces constant racism. When Reid asks Joe and his father to work on the farm, their relationship highlights their differences as well as their shared struggles. Hartney’s prose is thoughtfully descriptive, cleverly contrasting rural stillness with soldiers’ psychological turmoil: “A thrush hopped from branch to branch before flitting away. The farm was peaceful, a lean-to shelter in an emotional rainsquall.” The author effectively captures the anger of men who return from war only to be treated as second-class citizens. Joe’s words are particularly biting: “I’m not wanting to be fighting again, but I can’t live less than a man….South ain’t changed. She’ still a whore.” Hartney skillfully exposes the tensions that exist between those transformed by violence, as when Ellie says of her husband: “I’m sure I still have feelings for him. Love, I think. I’m also sure I can’t live with him. We’re both too changed, too damaged.” Certain passages are slightly repetitive, particularly with respect to unpleasant odors. However, this doesn’t detract from this ambitious novel, which addresses issues of PTSD and racial injustice with believable characterization.
Realistic, sharply descriptive, and movingly observant writing.