"I stopped breathing and pulled the sight closer to my eye. I wanted to pull the trigger, to erase that faceless shape in the sight. It would be no different from shooting sparrows as I had done in the garden as a child. It was not a question of killing; there seemed nothing human in the exchange, only the need to achieve a conclusion to the trigger-bullet-body equation. It would be so easy." (34)

"What defined these two groups? Race? They were the same race. Culture? They were all Tito-era children. Religion? No man present had the first clue about the tenets of his own faith, be it Orthodox or Islam. They were southern Slav brothers, pitted in conflict by the rising phoenix of long-dead banners raised by men whose only wish was power..." (115)

"There is a philosophical element to it all too: a bullet may or may not have your number on it, but I am sure shells are merely engraved with 'to whom it may concern.'" (244)

A 3.5/5 I think, undecided, might come back and change the rating, we'll see.

A rare non-fiction read for me, recommended by Tom in the Backstory Balham newsletter as one of the most underrated books he's come across (side note, I wonder how many books a book shop owner gets through and if it's all for work or there's still time for fun reading? How does that scene in About Time about working in publishing go...).

The story of Anthony Loyd's experiences in the Bosnian war, brief escapade to Chechnya and fight against heroin addiction back in London. A good read, despite requiring high levels of concentration throughout. I feel like I've come away not with accurate knowledge of the goings on of the war and who was fighting who, when, where and why exactly, but an insight into the spirit of the people he met along the way and his own attitude towards the war. I might need to head to wikipedia to have the facts to back up/confirm who he was talking about in each part and who's side everyone was on. I guess there's a fine line between spending too much time on making sure you get the facts across clearly and keeping a novel interesting and moving along (of which the second Bill Browder book leaned heavily towards the former, where as this rested on the latter side of the fence, though maybe I just wasn't concentrating hard enough).

An interesting storyline of his family's connection to war through the generations and his feeling of obligation to be involved in some way. Some of the reviews of this book point out the problematic 'war tourism' attitude that he admits to frequently. Does his self awareness of the situation make it better or worse?

If you want to know what the politicians did during the war, read a history, like Yugoslavia:Death of a Nation. Books like that certainly have their importance. But war is always, in these modern times, a two way street: what the politicians are doing, and what the average people are doing. This memoir is about those normal people. Sure, Loyd encounters generals and thugs in power, but only those that actually carry arms, that are there in the thick of it. Not those hanging out in Belgrade or Zagred making decisions that they never have to witness. If you want to know what really happened in Bosnia - in all it's confusing glory - read this book.

I was not surprised by the enlightening, often disturbing detail. What I was surprised about was the fantastic writing. Loyd, before he went to Bosnia and Chechnya, was not a writer or a journalist; he took on graduate course in photo journalism, after he retired from the British military. But his writing stands out as that of a professional; even more than that, as someone who was deeply, genuinely moved by the experience, and has the talent to convey it. I was not only informed through him book, but also came to sincerely care about what happened. I appreciate the book tremendously for that.

It starts out with a little too much machismo. On the other hand, the author is a man who voluntarily withdrew from heroin by placing himself in the middle of the war in Bosnia. The book is a good memoir of childhood trauma and addiction, as well as a portrait of a war that was immensely barbaric, and confusing. Everyone has already made the obvious comparisons to Michael Herr's "Dispatches." If you liked that, and like war reporting, you'll probably like this. In addition to the war in Bosnia, there is a bit on the war in Chechnya too.

As a Bosnian, it’s hard for me to not have strong visceral reactions to any book written on the war. Loyd’s book is labelled as a journalistic account, but I believe that the more fitting label for the book is a memoir. The book tells Loyd’s story, from his perspective and imaginings. While he’s the main protagonist, the Bosnian people occupy a secondary role as characters in his “war adventure.” I can appreciate the raw thought and feeling by which he captures his experiences on the front lines, however his fantasies about war bother me. War is not something to be desired or sought out, it is a lived experience to contend with. I do not think Loyd ever really gets that. If you are looking for a great journalistic account on the Bosnian war, I would instead recommend Peter Maas’ Love Thy Neighbour: A Story of War.

It started out so promising... I admit, I know very little about the Bosnian War, but I found I got so bogged down in terminology and detailed place names that it was very difficult to follow. In addition, the more I read, the more flippant and callous I found the author. I was very disappointed and only made it about half way through. Saying that, I don't want to dismiss it too quickly. I plan to research Bosnian history in more detail before picking it up again, but for now it will sit on my to re-read shelf.

I will say this about Anthony Loyd: he's read his Michael Herr.

EDIT (20/12/23): When I first wrote this review, I was still sorting out a lot of thoughts. I didn't want to commit them to words yet, because they were still so new to me. To put it simply, this book made me realise what I wanted to do. It made me realise that war journalism might just be what I was looking for.

For the last year and a half I have been working towards that goal. And I'm writing this update in a hotel room in Kraków, after three weeks in Ukraine. To say it was the best experience of my life would be a brutal understatement. To say that this book changed my life for the better in every way would, however, be completely accurate.

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The above photo was taken by a colleague while we were working in east Ukraine. It has been just over eighteen months since I first read this book. I would definitely recommend, but watch out.

ORIGINAL REVIEW (MAY 2022):This is one of those books that I know I'm not going to be able to describe. Know that anything I say is selling it short -- this is a book you just have to read for yourself.

The stand-out thing about this book is that it is written unflinchingly, by somebody who is absolutely not ashamed to admit what he's about. I've noticed in other reviews that some people greatly dislike him for this, but aside from sticking rigidly to pre-conceived notions about what a good person is, I can't think why they take it so personally. There is nothing morally abhorrent about curiosity, even when that curiosity is towards dark subjects that most people would like to avoid. That's fine, if you want to avoid it yourself. But some people do not wish to avoid it, and that's fine too. I don't know why people get on their high horse about it. Something about exploiting suffering, I suppose -- in which case they didn't read the book very closely at all, but also fail to understand that witnessed or not, people are still suffering. Unwitnessed suffering, I think, is far worse than witnessed suffering, especially when it comes to war crimes. If you don't want to see it, if you feel it's not for you, if you want to look away, or if for some unknown reason you think you'll take moral damage from merely witnessing it, fine. But this doesn't give a person the right to judge another for looking where most people wouldn't dare.

It is impossible to talk about this book and this subject without acknowledging the fact that I grew up in conflict. While it wasn't on the same intensity as the wars depicted in this book, I grew up with considerations that most kids did not. Bombings and shootings were frequent, and bomb scares even more so. Riots, looting, arson attacks, and threatening mobs were part of growing up there. The conflict I grew up in was also sectarian in nature, and I know well how it feels to be in such an insane situation. Some scenes in this book resonated with me for this same reason -- the soldiers from opposite sides grieving together over those they knew in common is, in essence, no different to my friends and I, each from different sides of the conflict, grieving together over the murder of one of our group. There are certain things that never leave you, no matter how far removed the years have made you: if a car pulls up in a crowded area and the driver gets out and leaves it, I cannot stay near it. I fear it's a bomb. Sudden cracks and bangs make me instinctively duck or dart for cover. I struggle to relax sitting with my back to a window. This kind of war is the same everywhere, and it was never far from my mind reading it. This is why I have such strong opinions on the witnessing of it: not only was I myself fascinated by the situation I was in, and curious about the nature of the war that dominated three generations of people in my country, but also my main frustration about it is that outside of my country barely anybody acknowledges that it happened. This is why witnessing is so important. This is why people need to see, to write it down, to capture it on film. Such situations are not for anyone. People like Loyd do it because it is a necessary role and they have the means to fill it. If such horror has to be witnessed, better somebody who knows what he wants and gets it.

And for all of this moralising, there's nothing wrong with what he wrote. This book is poignant, it's devastating, it's raw, and it deserves to be read. There is a much, much wider picture here, and those who narrow it down to disliking the author because they feel uncomfortable with and unable to relate to his personal choices are seriously missing the point. It's easy to turn your back on the kinds of things that go on in the world, when you have a choice to pretend it isn't happening. But I can tell you that if it was your country, you'd probably want people like Loyd around. How quickly the world forgets otherwise.

A horrific pervert, a sadist and a voyeur walk into a bar. The bartender says: "What'll it be, Tony?"

This "book" is an affront to everything that is good and decent. From the author constantly perving over literal children to his inane and absolutely proto fascist political ideas, to his disgustingly stupid and partisan treatment of the war. This is a heap of shit. The only redeemable factor of this entire book were the vivid descriptions of heroin addiction. Loyd would've been a great nambla-type beat author, I reckon.

This book is, in some ways, an achievement. Never before have I consciously wished death on the authortagonist this frequently or intensely. Or at all. Do not read this book, unless you are a masochist.

Not the most likeable narrator, but he writes a good book.

One of the best books on war I've ever read.

This book was an onslaught. It doesn’t feel right to give it a star rating of any sort. The writing is clear, and occasionally even beautiful. We follow the war from the perspective of a self-styled ‘war-tourist’ journalist. Twinned with the Balkan atrocities is the authors slow spiral into substance abuse.

And yet this book didn’t leave any sort of lingering nasty taste in my mind. Perhaps it’s because the crimes committed in this bloodbath are beyond imagining, but I think it might be the author himself.

There’s something very unpolluted in his recollections. He’s trying very hard to be honest, and his love for the halcyon days of this war is never cloaked as heroism or anything other than pure fascination.