Firearms and warfare, an obvious complement to the Emily Dickinson biography I finished earlier this month.
I am convinced. It is impossible to write a book about firearms without outraging either the peaceniks or the “gun enthusiasts” and I’ll admit right up-front that my sympathies lie with the doves. I approached American Rifle with serious reservations, further compounded by the book’s dubious subtitle: A Biography. Clearly, this book is not a biography, a history of a person’s life. This is the history of an object explicitly designed to extinguish life.
With the title, I sensed that there was an agenda afoot, and that was confirmed by the contents of the book. Throughout, Rose focusses on the guns. He treads very lightly on the subject of the human cost of the rifle, which includes the horrible gore of the Civil War (due in part to the introduction of the Minie ball), the decimation of Native American culture in the West (directly through conflict and indirectly through the extermination of the buffalo), along with much, much else. The rifle is not such an innocuous invention as, say, the television and its history should not be presented as such.
Much of the research contained here is drawn from military and ballistics sources, and in assessing the impact of rifle design changes on the battlefield, Rose often retreats to similarly impassive language and numbing statistics. At points, the narrative even appears to revel in the gore, as when Rose describes the tendency of an early prototype of the M16 to inflict massive, gaping wounds when it was first tested in Vietnam.
At the very least, this is a conflicted work, attempting to appeal to the general populace while not offending the gun enthusiasts, who no doubt eagerly devour histories like Rose's. Incidentally, the National Rifle Association—which has traditionally supported the marksmanship school of rifle design over automatic and semiautomatic models—actually comes out looking like a very progressive organization. (Surely, after publishing this book, Rose will never again have to pay membership dues.)
Now don’t get me wrong, with all of its faults, this book is still worth reading. In their long history, firearms have redefined warfare and shaped the development of modern civilization. A modern rifle is the embodiment of over 700 years of invention and refinement, and as this book illustrates, the rifle’s evolutionary path in America—from Revolutionary War-era muskets to today’s M16—has not been a straight-forward one. There have been numerous starts, stops, and dead-ends in the design process, unholy technical compromises expedited by external politicking, and no end to the debate about design philosophy. One of the key questions is, should a rifle be designed for accuracy and marksmanship or should it be designed to overwhelm enemies with a flurry of bullets? This debate continues today with the development of the successor (possibly, successors) to the forty-five-year-old M16.
Containing detailed discussion of advances in firing mechanisms, barrel design, caliber, propellants, cartridges—really a huge variety of topics—the history presented here is technical, but I found it very readable and actually quite engaging. American Rifle is clearly not for everyone, but if like me you’re willing to hold your judgment about presentation and authorly agenda in reserve, you might find that you actually enjoy this history. For me, this book fits squarely in the category of “Know Thy Enemy”.