Rather than a chronological account of the Vietnam "Conflict," I see Michael Herr's book Dispatches as a series of vignettes showcasing his impressions of places and people, stories of the minutiae and daily lives of the soldiers, tales of the Command's statements (many in great contrast to what Herr actually saw on the frontlines), and retellings of the escapades of his fellow journalists (and photographers).

The writing is uneven. In some places it is impressive, even poetic. Herr's description of a helicopter:

"the sexiest thing going; saver-destroyer, provider-waster, right hand-left hand, nimble, fluent, canny and human; hot steel, grease, jungle-saturated canvas webbing, sweat cooling and warming up again, cassette rock and roll in one ear and door-gun fire in the other, fuel, heat, vitality and death, death itself, hardly an intruder."

Contrast this poetry with the simple and effective prose in the telling of this horror:
Trigger warning - graphic depiction of injury

"A little girl was lying on the table, looking with wide dry eyes at the wall. Her left leg was gone, and a sharp piece of bone about six inches long extended from the exposed stump. The leg itself was on the floor, half wrapped in a piece of paper. The doctor was a major, and he'd been working alone. He could not have looked worse if he'd lain all night in a trough of blood. His Hands were so slippery that I had to hold the can to his mouth for him and tip it up as his head went back. I couldn't look at the girl. . . . He placed his hand on the girl's forehead and said, 'Hello little darling.' "

Herr's descriptions of people and places and these sketches are brilliant. Where I struggle is with his detailing of situations. A lot of these are abtruse. There are passages and sections I had to read multiple times to wring some meaning from them; there were many pages where I felt I was slogging through mud.

Herr doesn't take a political position on this war; he assembles his stories of the individuals who are caught up in this trauma. And I appreciate his oblique criticisms of the powers that be--juxtaposing quotations from the General Staff and the G.I.s on the ground to make his point.

A minor quibble - I wish that Herr (or his editor) would state the full term for each initialism and definition for each slang word the first time it is used or at least provide a glossary.

I struggled with rating this book and finally settled on 3.5 stars rounded up because of the thought it stimulated and my feeling that this is an important work in the cannon of Vietnam war literature.

Buddy read with Julie.

Li este livro há muitos anos e quis logo traduzi-lo. Em 2019, uma conjugação feliz de circunstâncias levou a que a Antígona publicasse esta tradução, da minha lavra.

Em 1967, com 27 anos, Michael Herr (1940-2016) partiu para o Vietname como correspondente da revista «Esquire». Pormenor importante: foi ele que insistiu em partir, nada a isso o obrigou. Chegou a Saigão em Novembro de 1967, nas vésperas do início da fase mais violenta da guerra. Com efeito, a 30 de Janeiro de 1968 os norte-vietnamitas lançaram a ofensiva do Tet, de efeitos devastadores. Herr esteve presente na batalha de Hue, cidade imperial vietnamita destruída nesta ofensiva, e esteve também no famoso cerco de Khe Sanh (junto à fronteira vietnamita), que decorreu de Janeiro a Julho de 1968.

Ou seja, Herr assistiu ao vivo ao que se passou no Vietname em 1968, o ano de todos os perigos, o ano do fim das ilusões. Em 1969, regressou aos EUA, e publicou «Dispatches» em 1977. Mais tarde, participou na escrita dos monólogos de «Apocalypse Now» (Francis Ford Coppola, 1979) e foi co-autor do argumento de «Full Metal Jacket»/«Nascido Para Matar», de Kubrick (1987). Quem viu este último filme recorda certamente a batalha urbana ali encenada, que se passa precisamente em Hue. Já agora: quem ler «Despachos» e vir estes dois filmes reconhecerá em ambos cenas extraídas, sem tirar nem pôr, do livro. Apenas um exemplo: a famosíssima cena de «Apocalypse Now» em que, nas trincheiras americanas junto à ponte de Do Lung, um soldado dispara uma granada para matar um vietcong preso no arame farpado.

«Despachos» é, antes de mais, um excelente livro sobre a Guerra do Vietname. É também um excelente livro sobre a guerra. Mas não se trata de um livro de denúncia. «Denúncia» implica pormo-nos de fora de uma situação e apontarmos uma iniquidade. Toda a denúncia tem as suas limitações (já que não deixa de ser uma postura relativamente confortável). Não me interpretem mal. Há muita coisa para denunciar na Guerra do Vietname, que foi, em certa medida, a guerra que pôs fim a uma certa inocência da América e, em certa medida, à nossa inocência colectiva. Representou o fim da ideia de que os EUA se podiam assumir como uma espécie de reserva moral das democracias.

Herr vai muito além da mera denúncia e tira-nos do nosso conforto. Num registo perturbador e clarividente, diz-nos: «Se o horror fosse a única cor na paleta da guerra, há muito que teria deixado de haver guerras.» (cito as palavras dele num excelente documentário de Coco Schrijber, «First Kill», de 2001). Diz-nos que a guerra satisfaz certas pulsões profundas que medram em nós. Enquanto não reconhecermos essas pulsões e não as tentarmos compreender, o mesmo ciclo de violência continuará a repetir-se. Só nos restam duas alternativas, portanto: fingirmos que não é assim ou percebermos que assim é e tentarmos perceber porquê, para quebrarmos este ciclo infernal.

Há aqui uma postura de pessimismo, mas trata-se de um pessimismo lúcido, que me faz lembrar aquela vez em que Cormac McCarthy afirmou: «Sou pessimista acerca de muitas coisas, mas não vejo razão para me sentir deprimido por causa disso.» E que me faz lembrar Orwell («1984»): «A imagem do futuro é a imagem de uma bota a calcar um rosto humano.»

Ao descrever o que sentia durante um bombardeamento ou tiroteio, Herr diz-nos que era um sentimento confuso e torrencial, e que, depois de muito pensar, percebeu que era o mesmo que tinha sentido da primeira vez que despira uma rapariga. «A guerra nunca era aborrecida.»

Houve razões mais íntimas para eu fazer esta tradução. Fiz um ano de vida no dia 30 de Janeiro de 1968. Foi precisamente na noite de 30 para 31 de Janeiro de 1968 que começou a ofensiva do Tet. O meu pai (alferes miliciano médico) desembarcou a 1 de Novembro de 1967 no porto de Nacala (Moçambique) para participar na Guerra Colonial, o mesmo mês em que Herr chegou ao Vietname. Em 1969, o meu pai veio-se embora da guerra, o mesmo ano em que Herr regressou a casa.

Ainda Michael Herr: «Creio que o Vietname foi o que tivemos em lugar de uma infância feliz.»

Having been in VietNam and having been in some of the Marine Units that Michael Herr writes about in "Dispatches" is the best depiction of war in general and VietNam in particular that I have ever read. It started me on the path to healing that I had kept hidden since I came back from Nam. Thank You Michael.

An exceptional piece of journalism/memoir from the frontlines of the Vietnam War, with an effective, jumbled chronicling of the tragedy, humor, horror, and psychological fallout of that particular war. The best takeaway is its inspiration for this reader to pursue the subject matter further as well as investigate the lives of the author's fellow correspondents (many tragic).

Nulla ti potrà colpire

Dopotutto le storie di guerra non sono altro che storie di persone, scrive Michael Herr. Tra malinconia e coscienza del sangue, l'autore americano trova il coraggio di aggiungere, tra le pieghe del reportage storico che risveglia nella riflessione del lettore uno stato d'eccezione, controintuitivo, alcune parole definitive: ”Qualcuno, ma si trattava di casi estremi, trovava che quell'esperienza era stata semplicemente meravigliosa. Io credo che il Vietnam sia ciò che abbiamo avuto al posto di un'infanzia felice”. In questo testo, i soldati sono scissi tra la morte e la pace, con un corpo forte e deviato che si specchia nella vittima, nel lato peggiore dell'essere. È una terra arrabbiata quella descritta, tra giungla e colline, dove nessuno può proteggersi, dove nessuna ombra può più persistere, dove gli uomini non sanno come sentirsi vivi e diversi dai propri compagni perduti. Informazioni negli occhi, domande disperse sulla pelle, piombo che risuona nell'aria. Can Tho, Nha Trang, Saigon, Qui Nhon, Pleiku, Quan Ngai, Danang, Hue, Khe Sanh. L'esperienza della guerra, raccontata con ossessione e senso dell'orrore, ha prodotto, nelle pagine di Herr, una potente e commovente narrazione bellica, che ha caratteri allucinatori e segmenti misteriosi, sullo sfondo di un'umanità insensata e disintegrata dalla tragedia.

Straszna książka, momentami było mi niedobrze, miałam koszmary w nocy, nie polecam.
5/5

Kniha reportáží z Vietnamské války poprvé vyšla již v roce 1977 a stále vychází v nových a nových vydáních a překladech. Aktuálně vychází ve slovenském překladu u kultovního nakladatelství Abynt. Ale stejně dobrá je i v podobě polské audioknihy.
— Mimochodem originální název Dispatches je snad nejgeniálnější název knihy vůbec, protože jde vyložit mnoha způsoby a Depeše je jen jediným z nich. V polském vydání věnoval překladatel několik odstavců jen tomu, jak lze název knihy interpretovat.
— Autor knihy Michael Herr pracoval ve Vietnamu jako válečný reportér pro časopis Esquire a válku poznává opravdu důkladně, protože s vojáky se účastní i poměrně nebezpečných misí a tak má možnost poznat tvář moderní války opravdu hodně zblízka. Zkušenosti, které Michael Herr získal ve vietnamském konfliktu později zúročil jako spoluautor filmů Apocalypse now a Full Metal Jacket. A podobně jako v těchto filmech i ve zmiňované knize je válka a působení americké armády v ní viděno hodně kriticky a naturalisticky.
— Autor na válku nahlíží z mnoha úhlů, pohledů a střídá celkový pohled na válku s drobnými portréty vojáků, které během svého působení ve Vietnamu potkal. Popisuje pocity, chování a psychologii i kolegů z řad válečných zpravodajů, načrtává karikatury nejšílenějších případů z řad vojenských velitelů a sem tam nechá čtenáře vydechnout při popisu krás místní přírody aby za chvilku popsal i nepříjemné stránky pobytu v tropické džungli.
— Možná se malinko usmějete při líčení toho, jak se vojáci v poli stávají pověrčivými aby vám autor vzápětí vyrazil dech ranou na solar při líčení toho, jak válečný konflikt rozvrací psychiku vojáků, zpravodajů i civilistů. Vyprávění je prostě hodně rozmanité a proto se čte celkem svižně a i jazyk je košatý a uchu příjemný. Prostě perla žánru, důkladně prověřená časem a i já osbně ji mohu s klidným vědomích doporučit.

I've never read a better depiction of war, one that so made me feel it's terror and elation and insanity. Herr portrayed the fruitlessness of Nam and the strength of our every day marines and soldiers masterfully. For these reasons it wasn't an enjoyable book - but it was masterful

https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2...

“No one could write like Michael Herr.” So begins The Paris Review obit for Michael Herr. Just read a paragraph or two of this masterpiece and you’ll probably agree. I do. Read a few more pages and you begin to realize that literally everything about the Viet Nam War that entered into popular American culture is from this book and this writer.

Of course, he “cowrote” Full Metal Jacket with Stanley Kubrick, and he did the voice over for Apocalypse Now. But read this book and a lot more of his words come falling out of the tree of Nam war memories, like the famous moment in Apocalypse Now (not even long enough to be a scene that begins with this priceless exchange:

“Who’s the commanding officer here?”
“Ain’t you?”

We're introduced to “The Roach,” a stoned brother from somewhere in your worst nightmare who is called in to silence a screaming VC out on the wire with his custom-cut grenade launcher.

“Put that fucker away,” the Marine said, as though to himself. He drew the weapon, opened the breach and dropped in a round that looked like a great swollen bullet, listening very carefully all the while to the shrieking. He placed the M-79 over his left forearm and aimed for a second before firing.

There was an enormous flash on the wire 200 meters away, a spray of orange sparks, and then everything was still except for the roll of some bombs exploding kilometers away and the sound of the M-79 being opened, closed again and returned to the holster. Nothing changed on the Marine’s face, nothing, and he moved back into the darkness.

I don’t know what I like more about this book: his almost giddy excitement of riding the crest of the wave of the entire era of the 60s, or his scared shitless depiction of the actual fighting.

The short book is filled with “you can’t make this shit up” moments that are too numerous and too spot-on to recite, but I’ll throw out one or two, starting with this gem:

“If you get hit,” a medic told me, “we can chopper you back to base-camp hospital in like twenty minutes.”
“If you get hit real bad,” a corpsman said, “they’ll get your case to Japan in twelve hours.”
“If you get killed,” a spec 4 from Graves promised, “we’ll have you home in a week.”

Gallows humor like only a soldier can utter.

There was a famous story, some reporters asked a door gunner, “How can you shoot women and children?” and he’d answered, “It’s easy, you just don’t lead ’em so much.”

Besides his uncommonly good ear for reporting what others said, he was also a master of creating his own language.

As a former military member, I feel that he strikes a perfect balance in his depiction of soldiers, a fine line between respect and obsequiousness, of bashing the grunts and cheerleading for them. It’s a difficult tightrope to walk that few war reporters achieve, most don’t even try.

But don’t take my word for it, read the damn book. I can’t understand why this isn’t require reading for all American high school kids. I wasn’t cool enough in university to read this, although it’s been on my list forever. I could never get it at the Seattle library and never found it in print. Now I don’t read books in print form, but better late than never and it’s definitely better for my old eyes to have read it on my eBook.

the author devotes a significant chunk of his book to the horrendous battle of Khe Sanh during the Tet Offensive (1968). My brother in law was with the Marines in the middle of it. He had PTSD and died young.

Fucking amazing. Supposedly the most famous journalistic account of the war in Vietnam... I wouldn't disagree. Nonfiction, but to me on par with any of O'Brien's work from a storytelling perspective, which is saying a lot. Outpaced the highest of expectations.

This book is very special. I wouldn't recommend it to any newbie as introduction to Vietnam War. It's raw, biased, consisting of handpicked mosaic of worst insanity. Herr doesn't care about analyses, he doesn't go to archives, he even admits that he doesn't give a fuck about politicians, diplomats, or other stakeholders – he can't even speak to them as they use “different language”. Also, the book almost completely avoid topic that mattered the most – ordinary Vietnamese, their faith, struggle, culture or history. Dispatches are solely limited to narrow view of the scared observer who experience brutality of war side by side with the ordinary soldiers – the “grunts”. And Herr excels in this role – he see things that others don't see, he is fascinated by morbid details that others would rather forget in order to keep sanity. What goes to Herr's credit is, that as a reporter, he is far from glorifying war reporters. He openly admits that “press corps in Vietnam was as diffuse and faceless as any army regiment” and that “some people thought we were nothing more than glorified war profiteers. And perhaps we were.” I can't assess if this is true, but I'm sure that from all books about Vietnam or war in general, the Dispatches are different, original and will always have special place in my library. A class for itself.