The notion of being an army wife is something that’s foreign to me. I understand that some women consider themselves detached from their husbands when a particular sports season is in full play, jokingly calling themselves “baseball widow”, “football widow”, et al. But being an Army wife carries an edge of menace because metaphorical widowhood can become actual widowhood all too easily.
The first few chapters spend a lot of time on Andrew, the man who itches to join the U.S. Army. We learn his mindset as he goes from martial arts training to would-be Olympic athlete to army recruit. He grows up in a commune but comes in contact with men who’ve seen warfare and are proud to show their scars. He’s been exposed to films about war, the kind that glorify action movie heroes as played by the likes of Arnold Schwarzenegger and Sylvester Stallone.
Like the brutal men of Jennifer Said’s “Ariadne”, these tales of licensed bloodshed fuel Andrew’s desire to serve his country in a way that involves violent physical action. He struggles with the pacifism that was likely part and parcel of his growth during the 1960s but in the end the notion that soldiering is necessary to society (a philosophic notion rampant in Robert Heinlein’s novel “Starship Troopers”) wins out over the belief that fighting should be reserved as a defensive maneuver only.
The subsequent arguments between Simone and Andrew are plausible, realistic, frightening and depressing as hell. Andrew insists on marriage not out of love (he doesn’t seem to consider the word worth mentioning) but because no one will care about or for Simone if something happens to him. Girlfriends don’t matter in the army; only wives do.
It all has the rank stint of patriarchal misogyny, thinly cloaked as patriotic fervor, as if wives exist only to serve their husbands and husbands exist only to serve the military. Simone grows increasingly anxious, frightened and nervous as the time nears for Andrew to leave. She simply doesn’t understand WHY he wishes to become part of something that involves killing other people. Andrew’s motivations are clear but he dodges her questions about committing state-sanctioned murder.
These first chapters probe the notion of warfare as a personal goal, the strain it puts on two people diametrically opposed to licensed slaughter, the threat of death as a very real possibility instead of the vague presence it is for most people. While this reader didn’t become reconciled to Andrew’s decision the way poor Simone did, you sense her misery, inner pain, oncoming exhaustion and fear almost as if she were standing right beside you, watching her husband leave her and shedding silent tears.
The first few chapters spend a lot of time on Andrew, the man who itches to join the U.S. Army. We learn his mindset as he goes from martial arts training to would-be Olympic athlete to army recruit. He grows up in a commune but comes in contact with men who’ve seen warfare and are proud to show their scars. He’s been exposed to films about war, the kind that glorify action movie heroes as played by the likes of Arnold Schwarzenegger and Sylvester Stallone.
Like the brutal men of Jennifer Said’s “Ariadne”, these tales of licensed bloodshed fuel Andrew’s desire to serve his country in a way that involves violent physical action. He struggles with the pacifism that was likely part and parcel of his growth during the 1960s but in the end the notion that soldiering is necessary to society (a philosophic notion rampant in Robert Heinlein’s novel “Starship Troopers”) wins out over the belief that fighting should be reserved as a defensive maneuver only.
The subsequent arguments between Simone and Andrew are plausible, realistic, frightening and depressing as hell. Andrew insists on marriage not out of love (he doesn’t seem to consider the word worth mentioning) but because no one will care about or for Simone if something happens to him. Girlfriends don’t matter in the army; only wives do.
It all has the rank stint of patriarchal misogyny, thinly cloaked as patriotic fervor, as if wives exist only to serve their husbands and husbands exist only to serve the military. Simone grows increasingly anxious, frightened and nervous as the time nears for Andrew to leave. She simply doesn’t understand WHY he wishes to become part of something that involves killing other people. Andrew’s motivations are clear but he dodges her questions about committing state-sanctioned murder.
These first chapters probe the notion of warfare as a personal goal, the strain it puts on two people diametrically opposed to licensed slaughter, the threat of death as a very real possibility instead of the vague presence it is for most people. While this reader didn’t become reconciled to Andrew’s decision the way poor Simone did, you sense her misery, inner pain, oncoming exhaustion and fear almost as if she were standing right beside you, watching her husband leave her and shedding silent tears.