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Killing: Misadventures in Violence
Ninety years after the First World War, police in a Victorian country town uncovered, inside a velvet-lined display cabinet, the mummified head of a Turkish soldier - a bullet-ridden souvenir brought home from Gallipoli by a returning ANZAC. The macabre discovery launched Jeff Sparrow on a quest to understand the nature of deadly violence. How did ordinary people - whether in today's wars or in 1915 - learn to take a human life? Was it hard to kill another person or was it terrifyingly easy? And what happened afterwards? What did war do to soldiers to make hoarding a human head seem normal, even necessary? The questions lead Sparrow on a journey through history and across the USA, talking to veterans and slaughtermen, executioners and academics about one of the last remaining taboos. Compassionate, engaged and political, "Killing" takes us up close to the ways society kills today, in a prolonged meditation on what violence means, not just for perpetrators but for all of us.
- GenresNonfictionHistory
288 pages, Paperback
First published July 1, 2009
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
June 13, 2011
Though I finished reading Jeff Sparrow's Killing: Misadventures in Violence weeks ago, I've been putting off writing a review. This is a harrowing read, one that digs into the psychology and social aspects of one of the most reviled of all human behaviours - murder. After reading of the discovery of a mummified head of a Turkish soldier kept as a souvenir from the battle of Gallipoli, Sparrow investigates what it means to take a human life. Specifically, he researches the spheres of contemporary Western life which consent to institutionalized deadly violence: the meat industry, capital punishment and war. Sparrow looks at how the act of killing, animal or human, effects the killer, how do they prepare? How do they rationalize their behaviour? How do they deal with the psychological after effects?
It's not cosy bedtime reading, but Sparrow's narrative voice is compelling and empathetic, deeply humane, not averse to inserting some gallows humour while retaining a sense of journalistic purpose. It does have an undertone of a political agenda, but as Sparrow researches deeper and talks with these people, he finds himself questioning his staunchly held beliefs - which is refreshing, as he's not working his investigation around his own ideals, but letting the investigation shape them.
It's difficult to say that I enjoyed this book, as parts of it are difficult to stomach, and it is, as Sparrow expresses these acts, beyond comprehension that society tends to rely on, even sanction, these forms of violence for its continuation. The brutality is all too evident, and so what does that mean for society? There are no definitive answers, but Sparrow offers an introduction to some questions that need to be asked.
It's not cosy bedtime reading, but Sparrow's narrative voice is compelling and empathetic, deeply humane, not averse to inserting some gallows humour while retaining a sense of journalistic purpose. It does have an undertone of a political agenda, but as Sparrow researches deeper and talks with these people, he finds himself questioning his staunchly held beliefs - which is refreshing, as he's not working his investigation around his own ideals, but letting the investigation shape them.
It's difficult to say that I enjoyed this book, as parts of it are difficult to stomach, and it is, as Sparrow expresses these acts, beyond comprehension that society tends to rely on, even sanction, these forms of violence for its continuation. The brutality is all too evident, and so what does that mean for society? There are no definitive answers, but Sparrow offers an introduction to some questions that need to be asked.
December 22, 2009
‘I needed to understand killing to appreciate the head and that meant trying something very different.’
Ninety years after World War I, policy in a country town in Victoria, Australia, received the mummified head of a Turkish soldier. A bullet-ridden souvenir brought home from Gallipoli by a returning ANZAC. When Jeff Sparrow became aware of this, he starts on a quest to try to understand the nature of deadly violence.
‘How hard is it to kill, as a hunter on a kangaroo cull, as a worker in an abattoir, as an executioner in a prison, as a soldier at war?’
In wondering why a soldier would bring such a trophy home, Mr Sparrow was led to consider the following questions. How do ordinary people –in any war – learn to take a human life? How do they live with the aftermath? Trying to find answers to these questions led Mr Sparrow through history and across both Australia and the USA. He spoke with kangaroo shooters, slaughtermen, writers, executioners and veterans.
What does violence mean: for the perpetrators, for individuals and societies? What is the consequence of changes to the way in which warfare is waged? Has the move from a one on one encounter (as so much of warfare has been in earlier centuries) changed perceptions? Now that it is easier (physically) to kill individuals, is it easier (psychologically) for individuals to kill?
‘What was the vocabulary to express that? How to remember men dying as sheep, killing like slaughtermen? That was the Gallipoli head: mutely eloquent, a trophy of no-one, an icon of nothing. What could you say about a souvenir like that? What could it possibly mean? Finally I thought I understood. It meant everything. It didn’t mean a thing.’
And what happened to the head of the Turkish soldier? The head of the man killed at Gallipoli in 1915 was interred on 18 March 2003 – just two days after the Coalition of the Willing invaded Iraq.
I did not find this a comfortable book to read, but I am glad I read it and I am still thinking about what it means to me.
Jennifer Cameron-Smith
Ninety years after World War I, policy in a country town in Victoria, Australia, received the mummified head of a Turkish soldier. A bullet-ridden souvenir brought home from Gallipoli by a returning ANZAC. When Jeff Sparrow became aware of this, he starts on a quest to try to understand the nature of deadly violence.
‘How hard is it to kill, as a hunter on a kangaroo cull, as a worker in an abattoir, as an executioner in a prison, as a soldier at war?’
In wondering why a soldier would bring such a trophy home, Mr Sparrow was led to consider the following questions. How do ordinary people –in any war – learn to take a human life? How do they live with the aftermath? Trying to find answers to these questions led Mr Sparrow through history and across both Australia and the USA. He spoke with kangaroo shooters, slaughtermen, writers, executioners and veterans.
What does violence mean: for the perpetrators, for individuals and societies? What is the consequence of changes to the way in which warfare is waged? Has the move from a one on one encounter (as so much of warfare has been in earlier centuries) changed perceptions? Now that it is easier (physically) to kill individuals, is it easier (psychologically) for individuals to kill?
‘What was the vocabulary to express that? How to remember men dying as sheep, killing like slaughtermen? That was the Gallipoli head: mutely eloquent, a trophy of no-one, an icon of nothing. What could you say about a souvenir like that? What could it possibly mean? Finally I thought I understood. It meant everything. It didn’t mean a thing.’
And what happened to the head of the Turkish soldier? The head of the man killed at Gallipoli in 1915 was interred on 18 March 2003 – just two days after the Coalition of the Willing invaded Iraq.
I did not find this a comfortable book to read, but I am glad I read it and I am still thinking about what it means to me.
Jennifer Cameron-Smith
January 14, 2025
I honestly have no idea what to take away from this book. It was a brilliant read, a great recommendation, an in-depth analysis on the culture of killing in western society. But I don't know what to do with what it's raised in me.
In the context of the shear number of veteran suicides I almost feel this book should be mandatory for those on the royal commission.
In the context of the shear number of veteran suicides I almost feel this book should be mandatory for those on the royal commission.
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews