The quality of the writing carries this war novel. It is obvious why it won a prestigious literary award. But, while I appreciated the literary merits, I did not understand what was happening in the narrative. At the heart of this book is a journey from Vietnam to Paris. When an American soldier goes AWOL, several members of his squad are ordered to pursue him and bring him back. This section is filled with magical elements. At the same time, we are given chapters with the narrator in typical, realistic military situations, including a very long night watch filled with internal thoughts. I am not sure if I was supposed to read the travel sections as some allegorical journey, if this was the day dream of a soldier imagining a way out of the mess of combat in Vietnam, if Cacciato was a projection of the narrator’s inner life, a mystical guide or a real squad mate who ran off. I just don’t know what the author was doing in this novel.

Going after Cacciato is a fictional representation of the Vietnam War. It is based around a man by the name of Paul Berlin and his company’s struggles of desertion from the war. This idea of going AWOL haunts the company as they are in search of another member of the company, Cacciato, who in fact did go AWOL. Cacciato one day just laid down his rifle and left for Paris. As the company is in search of Cacciato they find themselves struggling to not leave the war themselves. Cacciato in the novel is a man who is very relaxed, has few worries, and does not seem frightened by the war. The figurative representation here is that everyone is chasing after Cacciato’s characteristics. They want to get out of the war and away from the chaos and have a relaxed life again.

tThe author, Tim O’Brien, was in Vietnam himself so whatever he says about the war should be listened to. His qualifications for writing the novel couldn’t be any greater, and he achieves his purpose very well. The entire novel seems very uptight and cautious. The way the book flows seems to represent how the soldiers felt during this war. Soldiers had to choose between staying and fighting or leaving and being labeled a coward. This is the main objective the book entails.

Favorite quote: “The point is that war is war no matter how it’s perceived. War has its own reality. War kills and maims and rips up the land and makes orphans and widows. These are the things of war. Any war. So when I say that there’s nothing new to tell about Nam, I’m saying it was just a war like every war. Politics be damned. Sociology be damned. It pisses me off to hear everybody say how special Nam is, how it’s a big aberration in the history of American wars—how for the soldiers its somehow different from Korea or World War Two. Follow me? I’m saying that the feel of war is the same in Nam or Okinawa – the emotions are the same, the same fundamental stuff is seen and remembered. That’s what I’m saying” (O’Brien 197).

tThe book did not have any errors that were apparent to me. The book’s main strength is its realism. Every aspect of the novel is believable and the dialogue is exceptionally real. You feel as though you are a part of the conversation. Its downfall would have to be its layout and how it jumps back and forth between timelines of the pursuit of Cacciato, staying in the watch tower, and walking through the jungle. It can be very confusing at times if you’re not paying attention to the name of the chapters.

tThis is an amazing book that shows exactly how the soldiers felt about the war. My favorite quote above proves this point. This quote is basically O’Brien’s thought on the war. His subtle testimony’s make this novel a great realistic yet fun, fictional piece about the war. Everyone should read this book.

A compelling critique on war, and particularly Vietnam, but the writing leaves something to be desired.

In the whole of human history, I am of the extremely small percentage of males that did not fight in a war nor had my life changed as a result of one. I am extremely fortunate to have been twice lucky: born both where and born when. So whether it is a truth-seeking need to understand the sadness that countless men and women have had to endure, or it is some atavistic genetic tugging that keeps leading me back to these stories, I am addicted to the threnody of War.

Although I will read almost any non-fiction book on war that is recommended to me, it is fiction based upon events that really resonates. If you've read Vonnegut, you can chart his growth as an author through his first few books as he is circling around the main event - until he finally deals with his experience in the fire bombing of Dresden. Slaughterhouse-Five is a book that changes the reader because Kurt was changed by war. It's not a rational transaction. But neither is life.

Going After Cacciato is a book that has the capacity to re-wire the filters of a reader. The Vietnam War is the setting, but the individual wars suffered and fought daily by the soldiers is the narrative. The action follows a squad of men and their quixotic chase after a fellow soldier gone AWOL with plans to hoof it all the way to Paris from Indochina. As readers we become as changed as the soldiers on their journey. To explain further would be to ruin the magic - consider this great quote on the back cover of my edition, taken from a New York Times review: "To call Going After Cacciato a novel about war is like calling Moby-Dick a novel about whales."

n  n
Virgil C. Dice, Jr. Ready for action.

My father was 26 years old when he was drafted to serve in Vietnam. He had just graduated with a masters in music and had planned on a career as a concert pianist. He and my mother planned on getting married as soon as he finished his graduate program - he petitioned his Congressman to change his enlistment date so they could keep to their plans. Dad never shared much about his experiences, but he did tell me that his deferment saved his life - the base where he was stationed was overrun a month prior to his arrival. In 1997 I made a trip to visit the Vietnam Memorial in Washington D.C. I saw families and friends of fallen soldiers search for their beloved on the wall, watched them make a keep-sake of that name with a scrap of paper and rubbed charcoal. I took a picture of the book of names to note the fortune of the skip from Robert Floyd Dice to Anthony Dicesare.

Several years ago for my father's birthday I wrote him a short story. It was a fictional piece loosely based on what few things he told me about his war experience. I wasn't surprised when I asked him his opinion of the story that his response was, "There sure was a lot of swearing in there." I understand his deflection - I can't imagine how awful it must be for those people that have suffered from war to revisit it to create art. It makes what Tim O'Brien has done with this novel - and others like him throughout the ages - that much more amazing.

Final note: after finishing this book I called my father to ask him why, when he returned from the war, he didn't go back to his music career (he became an accountant). He said that after that much time away from practicing and focusing on his craft he would never be able to catch-up. He had a young wife and a family to think about. I'll always wonder now how different things would have been for him. He was blessed to escape from Vietnam without suffering casualty, but has the world suffered from not hearing his beautiful piano playing?

As a soldier, I did not like or respect this book. Military service has been a tradition in my family, several family members serving in WWI, WWII and Korea. I served in Vietnam. My brother served in Germany. A niece and a nephew served in Afghanistan and Iraq.

I had wanted to be a soldier since I was age 15 or 16. I spent 14 years in the Army, four years as an E-6 Drill Sergeant and 10 years as a Commissioned Officer, achieving the rank of Captain. I served as an artillery Forward Observer in Vietnam in 1968-69. I found this story contrived and convoluted. I could related to many of the soldiers' experiences: the monsoons, the mud, the jungle. I experienced the leeches, mosquitos, fire ants and snakes. I understood the boredom, the tedium, the blackest nights and the darkest thoughts. I vividly remember the treacherous ambushes, both those we sprung and those we stumbled into. I saw the mayhem, the horror of death, the maiming of fine young men. I daydreamed of "The World" after the war and I questioned the validity of the war, but I could not relate to the shirking of responsibility, the running away. Nor could I relate to or condone the dereliction of duty. I was not a hero, but I walked among heroes. The men in Going After Cacciato were not the soldiers with whom I served!

After reading, The Things They Carried, I immediately ran down to the library to check out O’Brien’s earlier writing, Going After Cacciato. And maybe my expectations were too high, but I was very disappointed in this writing. The Things They Carried was written in such a sophisticated manner. Going After Cacciato seemed jagged and forced. I really can’t see what was so special about this book that it was nominated for a bunch of rewards. I can only guess that there was a severe shortage of novels in 1979 when it was published. Maybe someone would tell me that I didn’t get it, that I missed the message or the symbolism. Oh no, I got the message. I just didn’t like the prose used to deliver it. One of the most unremarkable stories I’ve read in a long time.

A Catch-22 for the Vietnam War, a hallucinatory dream sequence of a novel, alternating between horror in the muck of the rice paddies and jungles and black comedy. It's very well written, and the scenes are stitched together evenly despite ranging from blunt street-talking realism to elaborate flights of fantasy. In the course of its dream-plot (chasing the deserter, who decides to walk from Vietnam to Paris), the book takes on philosophical issues such as whether Vietnam was morally different from other wars, what it means to be obligated to ideals or people, what it means to be brave, and so on; and addresses specific issues like the fact that none of the men knew anything about Vietnam, its language or culture or people. Really an admirable work, moving and disturbing.

Part of O'Brien's loose Vietnam trilogy, along If I Die in A Combat Zone and The Things They Carried. Despite the rave reviews (including one from John Updike) this still seems the least of the pack. It starts well enough, and has the best Vietnam writing's blend of mandarin and slang.

This is the first book O'Brien released and the last one for me to read (I still have his memoir to tackle also).

The Caccicato in the title is a character that is only on the periphery of the story. Our real protagonist is Paul Berlin. He is a PFC in the same platoon as Cacciato - who way day deserts his post. The men are then torn as to whether or not they will go after him. They decide to pursue him.

And then we enter the world of O'Brien in which things may not be what they seem. All along I knew there had to be more to this back story and once I got to the ending, I was just floored. I love O'Brien's writing: the simplicity of his sentences and word choice when dealing with complicated moral topics.

This did not disappoint. I am so glad I finally got around to reading it.

It's an interesting read, a daydream journey tracing a path from Vietnam to Europe, where the most surreal and horrifying events take place in the real world. That being said, it's not a book that sticks with you in the way The Things They Carried does -- but it's worth the read.

Let me tell you something about Tim O’Brien.

Tim O’Brien can write.

I don’t mean Tim O’Brien can express ideas well, or that Tim O’Brien knows how to make cogent points using the written language. Hell, I can do that. I can wake up hungover, drink a liter of coffee, and crank out an essay with a title like “Intertextuality in Victorian Memoir: the Solipsism of Affect,” or some such mumbo-jumbo, and it’ll make your average literature professor at The Community College of Seriously Misfortuned Academics swoon.

I can also write instructions, technical memoranda, exposition of physical or mathematical theory, love letters, anecdotes, recipes, computer code in any number of out-of-date languages, journal entries, and sometimes – sometimes I can even write a book review.

But I can’t write like Tim O’Brien. No way. Tim O’Brien’s got that something you know when you see it. That raw talent to transform the semiotic into the spiritual. That thunderous, sensuous grasp of prose that catches you unawares at a bus station, on your couch, in an airplane, and suddenly your hands are gripped tight at the edges of the worn paperback, knuckles white, and your eyes are speeding down the page and you’re careening through a world so vivid that you would never be able to say that this was not reality itself and believe it.

Yes, Tim O’Brien can do that. On the other hand, Tim O’Brien lacks focus.

Ah! But surely, you say, if any novel can be excused of lacking focus, this is it, no? This upside-down, down-the-rabbit-hole existential quest for the adumbrative Cacciato, from the death-filled lakes of Vietnam to Laos through to India, Iran, Greece and – finally, absurdly – the streets of Paris.

Well, maybe.

I mean, it’s clear from the beginning that none of this pan-Asia quest is quite “real.” And as the book progresses, it sort of settles on you that O’Brien doesn't intend to ever really let you know what "real" would even mean.

After all, surely these soldiers did not just up and leave their posts and march across Asia in hunt of a deserter who thought he could walk to Paris? Surely not. Rather, we are made to believe that this is some sort of imagining in the mind of the protagonist, Paul Berlin – some sort of exploration of the possible and the impossible, of the region between dusk and dawn where death and war confuse the two in categorical terms.

But then again, who is the protagonist? He is just a figment of O’Brien’s, isn’t he? And so now it becomes less clear. The reader is as unable to separate “real” from “unreal” as Berlin is. What is fiction, after all, but an exploration of where the possible meets the impossible?

I get this far, fine, but I’m never very sure what O’Brien wants us to do with all this. Not that we have to do anything, mind you, but textual involution is no substitute for a plot arc, you know? And I have to admit, for about the middle 75-100 pages of this, we were deeply into three-star territory.

But O’Brien pulls out of it. And you know why? I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this, but O’Brien can write.

And so you emerge from the final page, having been suffused in some mystery that you never quite understood, but thankful for its evocation, and unwilling to trade the experience for something so mundane as clarity.

Paul Berlin never wanted to be a soldier.

He'd never really had any professional aspiration, other than to play baseball, but when he's drafted into the Vietnam war, a soldier he becomes.

Turns out, he isn't a natural. When he enters combat, he suffers panic attacks that cause him to experience a debilitating shame in front of his peers and his commander.

In his desire to disassociate from his circumstances, Paul decides to pursue a fellow soldier who's gone AWOL, a young man named Cacciato who, in his childlike enthusiasm, has abandoned the undesirable war for a journey, on foot, to Paris.

The trick was to concentrate on better things. The trek to Paris. All the things seen and felt, all the happy things.

So Paul heads to Paris in pursuit of Cacciato with his ragtag band of survivors from his squad and his lieutenant, who is suffering from dysentery.

Or does he?

Paris is not a place. It is a state of mind.

And, unfortunately, “none of the roads led to Paris.”

What follows is part dreamscape, part reality, and you get a strong sense, as a reader, of how Tim O'Brien himself might have managed to survive his time serving in this complicated war.

This is a memorable novel, full of a ridiculous amount of meaningful observations about war and freedom, and I absolutely recommend it. . .

But, if you're going to read only one Tim O'Brien book in your lifetime, I still recommend The Things They Carried.

Cacciato is O'Brien's National Book Award winner, but Carried is O'Brien's magnum opus.