Good Civil War story. That was a hard period to live through! ( )

“They wandered aimlessly through the wreckage of the battlefield. Now and then a hand would claw at their trouser legs. Voices rose from the shadows, disembodied like voices in dreams. Some demanded relief, others begged; they asked for water or for a surgeon, they asked for mothers and sisters, these voices. Some begged to be shot. From all these the boys shrank in guilty horror.”

Confederate soldiers and friends from Mississippi, Bushrod, Jack, and Virgil, are part of the same company fighting the American Civil War. We follow them as they participate in the Battle of Franklin in Tennessee. Protagonist Bushrod meets Anna, whose cousin’s house is taken over and used as a field hospital. The plot revolves around a small number of characters. They have become war weary and seriously consider desertion.

I had never read anything by Howard Bahr before and was very impressed with his writing. The storyline illustrates the terrible death toll taken in the Civil War. It is does not touch on the causes. It is intensely focused on the relationships between friends. As may be expected in a book about war, it is extremely sad. It is a powerful story of attempting to retain human compassion in the midst of devastation.

“In the tricky, shifting light of the fire, the sleepers—Anna, Bushrod, and Nebo—seemed figures in a very old painting, caught in a vanished moment of repose. It was easy to believe that they might sleep forever, free of pain and grief and confusion, pardoned from all things and especially from tomorrow. They might never change—only the colors around them, already soft, yielding year by year to the benign erosion of time. It was an illusion, of course, for the constellations above were moving ahead of the sun, and the light of day would dissolve the shadows and awaken the sleepers to movement, to life or to death, as it always did. But for now they slept and dreamed, and their peace, for all its deception, was no less real to them.” ( )

It was kind of sluggish reading. I thought the plot was weak. But details were alright. ( )

5 Stars - I do wish there were a rating "Stupendous"

Perhaps if I had been born in Oxford, Mississippi, I could have been a great writer. Seems everyone who puts pen to paper in that town writes something extraordinary. Howard Bahr is my new favorite writer. He puts emotion into his work without saccharin; he brings reality with all its starkness and tempers it with a bit of humor; and he finds what it is that essentially makes us human, the parts we most try to hide and keep to ourselves, and he lays them bare for the world to see. He collapses you into tears that purge your soul, and you cry not only for his characters who have touched you so, but for yourself and for all the potential that was lost and buried in your world before you came.

I have always loved the Civil War. I was born into a South that still remembered its loss and mourned them as if they were fresh. I grew up in the shadow of Kennesaw Mountain and I went there and felt the blood still rushing beneath its calm surface. I felt the pride and the shame and the waste of that war as if I had known it in some regard closer than a history book. My grandfather, whose older brothers had fought in it, carried a bit of it in his soul and remembered its aftermath and the impact that it had on their lives.

And they would look out over the stones and the grass and the tranquil bloodless fields and find, each in his turn, the only truth that was left them: that the stones possessed a logic of their own, that it all seemed to make sense once but didn’t now, and whatever meaning there once was could no longer be got at by old men drowsing in the sunlight with full bellies and no one to shoot at them. With this, all distinctions blurred--between enemies, between the living and the dead--until the old men arose and knocked out their pipes and walked away, wanting to forgive everyone, starting with themselves.

But this is not largely the tale of those old men who survived and felt the moments after the war. This is, rather, Bushrod Carter’s very personal story of the war he fought, of the losses he endured, and of his own attempt to make sense of it all. At its beginning, we find Bushrod, his friends, Jack Bishop and Virgil C. Johnson, and the army of the Confederacy about to engage in one of the bloodiest and most useless battles of the entire war, the Battle of Franklin, Tennessee. They are about to cross the land of the McGavock’s, intersect with the lives there, and change a sweet and peaceful home beside a meandering river into a witness to battle, an onsite hospital, and a river of blood. Bushrod must grapple with every inch of moral territory a man can encounter: a love for his fellow man, the memory of a life before, the madness of continuing to pursue a cause no one can even remember, and a belief in a God who seems absent most of the time.

...but he had never figured out how God could look down on such madness and not take a hand. The best he could do was to remind himself that men made their own troubles mostly, and that God spent a lot of time grieving Himself.

Amen. War now is so different, so impersonal in some ways; we kill men that we do not have to look into the eyes of while we do it. But, in this war, we are fighting ourselves, our own, and we must look into the face of the man we kill and try not to see that what we slay is a piece of ourselves. Perhaps that is what has always made this war seem different to me. That and the feeling that of all the avoidable wars in the history of mankind, this one was the most avoidable.

Needless to say, I will read the rest of Bahr’s works. His two other Civil War books are on order. I am grateful to Diane at the Southern Literary Trail for introducing me to this marvelous writer. Not since Cold Mountain have I read a Civil War novel that brought me so close to the hearts of the men who fought and the women who witnessed and paid the price in loss and remembrance.
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rabck from PerryFran; The story begins with Bushrod Carter, a confederate rifleman, a few hours before the battle of Franklin, Tennessee. He joined up with two childhood friends, and through flashbacks to his childhood and earlier battles. The McCavock plantation is the field hospital, and later the cemetery of those who died. Interesting that Bushrod always referred to the Union troops as strangers, although during one battle both sides stopped fighting long enough to bury their dead and Bushrod wound up working with an Ohio man. The toll on the men and the villagers upon whose land the battles raged, along with tending the wounded and dying was devastating. This one will travel forward in the Color Bookbox ( )