I sent a career Army buddy LOA's compilation of American WW2 war correspondents pieces, along with GI poems from the same conflict. He told me both worked their way through most of the company on his last tour (#3) in Afghanistan . . . .
A Young Soldier Pauses on Dallas Cowboys Turf
By JANET MASLIN
BILLY LYNN’S LONG HALFTIME WALK
By Ben Fountain
307 pages. Ecco. $25.99.
The players are at the Texas Stadium outside Dallas. They are larger than life, immortalized on the Jumbotron, bathed in glory. Pompom-waving cheerleaders celebrate their triumphs. Spectators thrill to the sight of their heroics on the field. Strangers want a piece of them, but access is limited. Still, Billy Lynn, the favorite, finds himself getting “passed around like everybody’s favorite bong.”
By the way, the Dallas Cowboys are also here. So is another pro football team; after all, this is the Cowboys’ Thanksgiving home game, with Destiny’s Child as its musical attraction. But Ben Fountain’s inspired, blistering war novel “Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk” is about a group of special guests at the stadium: eight American soldiers who have become known as the Bravos.
Ever since Fox News showed them fighting a fierce battle in Iraq, the Bravos have been wildly famous. They are just completing a two-week Victory Tour of the homeland.
Nobody wants to mention that they are hours away from being sent back to war. And nobody wants to think too hard about what kind of American heroes they really are.
Mr. Fountain, whose only previous book was the short-story collection “Brief Encounters With Che Guevara,” sets up this Thanksgiving game as an artfully detailed microcosm of America in general, and George W. Bush’s Texas in particular, during the Iraq war. Though it covers only a few hours, the book is a gripping, eloquent provocation. Class, privilege, power, politics, sex, commerce and the life-or-death dynamics of battle all figure in Billy Lynn’s surreal game day experience. Although Beyoncé’s girl group is on red-hot display during halftime, this book leaves no doubt that Billy is the real destiny’s child in the story.
“Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk” unfolds in real time, beginning as a limousine arrives at the stadium. Outside the vehicle are beautiful, excited women looking for somebody famous to shriek about. Inside: Billy and the other baffled men of Bravo, who have not quite processed their fame. They get a dose of reality once the windows roll down, “and you can just see those girls deflate.” Oh, soldiers, the girls all but sigh. “Not rock stars, not highly paid professional athletes, nobody from the movies or the tabloid-worthy world, just grunts riding on some millionaire’s dime, some lame support-the-troops charity case.”
What are the Bravos worth? And to whom? Those questions arise over and over, from the way a Hollywood producer tries to sell their story — with Hilary Swank playing Billy, and thanks a lot for that — to the football moguls who want to exploit the soldiers’ propaganda value. Tongue-tied spectators want to thank the Bravos for their service, stammer opinions about the war, talk about the enemy in words that barely make sense to Billy (he keeps hearing 9/11 as “nina leven”) and generally affirm their own patriotism. Mr. Fountain makes Billy naïve enough to be surprised by this but smart enough to know that his only reality that matters is the kind raging inside his head.
Billy can’t forget the battlefield horrors and can’t believe they have been turned into Jumbotron video fodder. But now, at the end of their home tour, the Bravos are on the march, “and how fine it would be if they could outwalk the war by sheer force of will.” Instead they walk through different realms of Texas Stadium, greeted in revealing ways at each new turn. To Billy, the fans are “weird and frightening.” They are “this pack of half-rich lawyers, dentists, soccer moms and corporate V.P.’s,” and “they’re all gnashing for a piece of a barely grown grunt making $14,800 a year.”
Money doesn’t matter much to Billy. But he’s galled to find merchandisers selling Cowboy-branded swag, all redolent of victory on the field of combat, that no real soldier could afford. He’s keenly attuned to the Hollywood price tag attached to the Bravo story by that producer who wants to market it. When the movie prospects falter, Billy astutely hears “the almost imperceptible slackening of ego and effort that denotes the triage mode of the consummate pro.”
And he’s amazed at the polished, well-preserved look of elite Cowboy executives and their wives, though Mr. Fountain is at his least subtle with this crowd. These very wealthy friends of the Bush family, one even nicknamed “Mr. Swift Boat,” do some needlessly heavy-handed advocacy for the greatness of commerce and Texas-style capitalism.
But there are such bravura scenes in “Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk” that this book never seems narrow or small. One stunner is set in the Cowboys’ equipment room: What should soldiers, who are about to go back to Iraq and get wet when it rains, make of the fact that the Cowboys go through 700 towels on a dry game day? And why aren’t these huge, pampered, highly paid players doing actual fighting? The Bravos marvel at the Cowboys’ pumped-up ferocity. Like most of the thoughts that sear Bravo brains during the course of this story, it makes no sense to them at all.
The book’s other great set piece is its halftime musical number. Although some aspects of that game day are clearly fictitious, Mr. Fountain describes the erotic fireworks of a Destiny’s Child performance mixed with the military fervor of an accompanying marching band. Real American soldiers did march through this 2004 Cowboys’ halftime event, and Mr. Fountain has said that his idea for this book came from contemplating the wild incongruities he saw on television that day. The stimulation of these extremely mixed signals simply explodes in Billy Lynn’s brain; the effect of this “porn-lite out of its mind on martial dope” on readers will be just as devastating.
By the book’s end Billy Lynn has a wild crush on a Cowboys cheerleader, who seems to reciprocate his excitement. He has a nagging awareness that he will never be able to sustain such a high-maintenance woman. He has come close enough to Beyoncé to touch her, come close enough to the pro-football version of toughness to realize that it has nothing to do with his own wartime experience. And he has nowhere to go but back to battle. The halftime of the title isn’t about the pause in the football game. It’s about this brief, stunning, life-changing pause in the way Billy Lynn, two-week American hero, goes to war.
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/05/07/bo...-fountain.html
A Young Soldier Pauses on Dallas Cowboys Turf
By JANET MASLIN
BILLY LYNN’S LONG HALFTIME WALK
By Ben Fountain
307 pages. Ecco. $25.99.
The players are at the Texas Stadium outside Dallas. They are larger than life, immortalized on the Jumbotron, bathed in glory. Pompom-waving cheerleaders celebrate their triumphs. Spectators thrill to the sight of their heroics on the field. Strangers want a piece of them, but access is limited. Still, Billy Lynn, the favorite, finds himself getting “passed around like everybody’s favorite bong.”
By the way, the Dallas Cowboys are also here. So is another pro football team; after all, this is the Cowboys’ Thanksgiving home game, with Destiny’s Child as its musical attraction. But Ben Fountain’s inspired, blistering war novel “Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk” is about a group of special guests at the stadium: eight American soldiers who have become known as the Bravos.
Ever since Fox News showed them fighting a fierce battle in Iraq, the Bravos have been wildly famous. They are just completing a two-week Victory Tour of the homeland.
Nobody wants to mention that they are hours away from being sent back to war. And nobody wants to think too hard about what kind of American heroes they really are.
Mr. Fountain, whose only previous book was the short-story collection “Brief Encounters With Che Guevara,” sets up this Thanksgiving game as an artfully detailed microcosm of America in general, and George W. Bush’s Texas in particular, during the Iraq war. Though it covers only a few hours, the book is a gripping, eloquent provocation. Class, privilege, power, politics, sex, commerce and the life-or-death dynamics of battle all figure in Billy Lynn’s surreal game day experience. Although Beyoncé’s girl group is on red-hot display during halftime, this book leaves no doubt that Billy is the real destiny’s child in the story.
“Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk” unfolds in real time, beginning as a limousine arrives at the stadium. Outside the vehicle are beautiful, excited women looking for somebody famous to shriek about. Inside: Billy and the other baffled men of Bravo, who have not quite processed their fame. They get a dose of reality once the windows roll down, “and you can just see those girls deflate.” Oh, soldiers, the girls all but sigh. “Not rock stars, not highly paid professional athletes, nobody from the movies or the tabloid-worthy world, just grunts riding on some millionaire’s dime, some lame support-the-troops charity case.”
What are the Bravos worth? And to whom? Those questions arise over and over, from the way a Hollywood producer tries to sell their story — with Hilary Swank playing Billy, and thanks a lot for that — to the football moguls who want to exploit the soldiers’ propaganda value. Tongue-tied spectators want to thank the Bravos for their service, stammer opinions about the war, talk about the enemy in words that barely make sense to Billy (he keeps hearing 9/11 as “nina leven”) and generally affirm their own patriotism. Mr. Fountain makes Billy naïve enough to be surprised by this but smart enough to know that his only reality that matters is the kind raging inside his head.
Billy can’t forget the battlefield horrors and can’t believe they have been turned into Jumbotron video fodder. But now, at the end of their home tour, the Bravos are on the march, “and how fine it would be if they could outwalk the war by sheer force of will.” Instead they walk through different realms of Texas Stadium, greeted in revealing ways at each new turn. To Billy, the fans are “weird and frightening.” They are “this pack of half-rich lawyers, dentists, soccer moms and corporate V.P.’s,” and “they’re all gnashing for a piece of a barely grown grunt making $14,800 a year.”
Money doesn’t matter much to Billy. But he’s galled to find merchandisers selling Cowboy-branded swag, all redolent of victory on the field of combat, that no real soldier could afford. He’s keenly attuned to the Hollywood price tag attached to the Bravo story by that producer who wants to market it. When the movie prospects falter, Billy astutely hears “the almost imperceptible slackening of ego and effort that denotes the triage mode of the consummate pro.”
And he’s amazed at the polished, well-preserved look of elite Cowboy executives and their wives, though Mr. Fountain is at his least subtle with this crowd. These very wealthy friends of the Bush family, one even nicknamed “Mr. Swift Boat,” do some needlessly heavy-handed advocacy for the greatness of commerce and Texas-style capitalism.
But there are such bravura scenes in “Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk” that this book never seems narrow or small. One stunner is set in the Cowboys’ equipment room: What should soldiers, who are about to go back to Iraq and get wet when it rains, make of the fact that the Cowboys go through 700 towels on a dry game day? And why aren’t these huge, pampered, highly paid players doing actual fighting? The Bravos marvel at the Cowboys’ pumped-up ferocity. Like most of the thoughts that sear Bravo brains during the course of this story, it makes no sense to them at all.
The book’s other great set piece is its halftime musical number. Although some aspects of that game day are clearly fictitious, Mr. Fountain describes the erotic fireworks of a Destiny’s Child performance mixed with the military fervor of an accompanying marching band. Real American soldiers did march through this 2004 Cowboys’ halftime event, and Mr. Fountain has said that his idea for this book came from contemplating the wild incongruities he saw on television that day. The stimulation of these extremely mixed signals simply explodes in Billy Lynn’s brain; the effect of this “porn-lite out of its mind on martial dope” on readers will be just as devastating.
By the book’s end Billy Lynn has a wild crush on a Cowboys cheerleader, who seems to reciprocate his excitement. He has a nagging awareness that he will never be able to sustain such a high-maintenance woman. He has come close enough to Beyoncé to touch her, come close enough to the pro-football version of toughness to realize that it has nothing to do with his own wartime experience. And he has nowhere to go but back to battle. The halftime of the title isn’t about the pause in the football game. It’s about this brief, stunning, life-changing pause in the way Billy Lynn, two-week American hero, goes to war.
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/05/07/bo...-fountain.html
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