My adult life began with the VietNam war. I was sixteen when I finally figured out for myself that my government had been lying to me for quite some time. War Baby also begins in VietNam, which is exactly where a modern novel approaching the difficult subject of battle addiction, should start. Initially, I was drawn comfortably into what almost seemed like an homage to Graham Greene's Indochina stories, but my complacency was soon jarred loose when I realized the tale was spinning well past the fall of Saigon.
Falconer's art here is deeply connected with all the things we tell ourselves, silently, when confronted with fear and need beyond our ability to control. That these well-conceived, recognizable main characters are war correspondents and photographic journalists comes as no surprise. Their story provides the perfect combination of questionable judgment, questionable ethics and un-knowable motivations in the face of incredible evil. Only battlefields can exhibit terror equally so personal and so senseless and random. That there are people who make it a choice to be there is a fact I have always had great difficulty getting my mind around. The dark camaraderie, seeming easy and genial, that forms in this kind of environment has certainly been the subject of fiction before, but what is revealed in War Baby is the sense of the inevitability of the characters returning to it again and again, though the geography and hatreds have changed completely. Through relocations in theatre and over time, the characters and relationships return, again and again, to well-trodden paths of survival. In their passage, they inflict lasting damage to each other and to themselves. Luck plays an increasingly important role here, as does the forced burial of self-loathing and blame. I appreciated the author's use of a comfortable gathering of compatriots around cocktails while sharing their stories. It served as a useful, grounding device allowing this reader to rest between barrages.
War Baby is well-paced and gripping, but it's also a significant, disturbing book that mirrors the best and the worst human beings are capable of. It's a book that needs to be read, and read again, especially by young men and women who may be attracted to the appearance of justice and honor in warfare. There is no justice upon any battlefield, and Falconer shows us exactly how unrelentingly empty the lives of those who must make a living there, can be. Doomed to live out each terrifying moment again and again. Doomed to always be found wanting, to be unable to satisfy the hunger driving them. The possibility of redemption for any of these characters drove me towards the ending from the first few pages. Was there any satisfaction waiting for me there? There was, but lasting peace may well be just a mirage we all cling to.