mschlat's review against another edition
3.0
I liked the commentary on modern war (the cell phone calls home, the gift packages from strangers, and the need to handle the media), but overall the book didn't do much for me. I already knew war could be stupid, boring, and darkly funny --- this didn't really add anything to that.
readerxxx's review against another edition
2.0
This started out pretty good and then continued with less story and more internal dialog. I got really bored with it 2/3 of the way in and just stopped because I didnt care any more.
perednia's review against another edition
5.0
While a hobbit lives in a hole in the ground -- a comfy, lovely hole -- a Fobbit lives within the confines of a Foward Operating Base in a war zone. It's neither comfy nor lovely, and it isn't always safe. But it's the life many characters have in Fobbit, the debut novel by David Abrams, based in part on his experiences on active military duty in Iraq.
Chance Gooding Jr. is "the Fobbitiest" of them all. As a Public Affairs Officer, he punches out press releases from inside Saddam's former Baghdad palace the way major league sluggers knock baseballs out of the park. No matter how many times he has had to write a variation of the same old story -- one or more of our people were killed or wounded, so were so many of theirs. Then the press release goes up the chain of command and comes back down after every comma is fussed over and imbedded cable news reporters broadcast more complete information hours earlier -- often from the scene itself.
Off-duty, Gooding reads. Catch-22 speaks clearly to him, no surprise, but he also tries to live in the worlds of Dickens' Hard Times, of Don Quixote and more. Stories are important to Gooding. He would agree with Joan Didion that "we tell ourselves stories in order to live".
The truth is elusive in a military organization, as Gooding's superior officer, Lt. Col. Eustace (Staci) Harkleroad's letters to his mother prove. These are master classes in how to shade, evade and twist the facts just enough to show how delusional some people are. And, of course, not a delusional, pumped-up "word to Jim Powers at the Murfreesboro Free Press or the ladies at the First Church of Redemption". Of course not.
A real military man is Lt. Col. Vic Duret, who keeps his sanity by focusing on his dog and a certain part of his wife's anatomy back home as he and his men patrol outside the Green Zone. As long as he doesn't remember that his brother-in-law was in the Twin Towers. That's an image he cannot face but cannot forget. Instances when Duret and his men are on patrol show but one of Abrams's writing strengths. He easily and economically puts the reader in the middle of the chaos that is a routine patrol, sharing not only what the service men and women do right and honorably, but also how stacked the odds against them are and how quickly and randomly events can turn tragic or comic, or both.
Although many events in war, like the rest of life, are random, the catalyst to the plot here is Capt. Abe Shrinkle. He's the Frank Burns of our story, a would-be take-charge kinda guy who should never have left home. Shrinkle is the kind of guy other soldiers are tempted to shoot. When he makes one mistake too many, he's taken off patrol and put in charage of the exercise equipments and towels at the FOB rec center.
When Shrinkle realizes a slight moment of truth, Abrams writes with straight-to-the-heart accuracy in a passage powerful enough on its own. But later, another character is thrust into a turning point, and then feels "part of himself break away" on a metaphor that recalls the earlier passage. The eloquence in Abrams's purpose in writing by connecting the two passages is wisely used and pays off handsomely.
Like the other great war novels that show the absurdity of those who organize war and those who are placed in charge, Fobbit makes one wonder how any combat victories were ever achieved. Abrams also creates memorable characters who bring to life the years of strife, boredom and suffering endured by troops who were sent to fight and then forgotten by a public wrapped up reality TV and recession hardships. Like Willie Loman, the characters who live in Fobbit deserve to have attention paid to them.
Chance Gooding Jr. is "the Fobbitiest" of them all. As a Public Affairs Officer, he punches out press releases from inside Saddam's former Baghdad palace the way major league sluggers knock baseballs out of the park. No matter how many times he has had to write a variation of the same old story -- one or more of our people were killed or wounded, so were so many of theirs. Then the press release goes up the chain of command and comes back down after every comma is fussed over and imbedded cable news reporters broadcast more complete information hours earlier -- often from the scene itself.
Off-duty, Gooding reads. Catch-22 speaks clearly to him, no surprise, but he also tries to live in the worlds of Dickens' Hard Times, of Don Quixote and more. Stories are important to Gooding. He would agree with Joan Didion that "we tell ourselves stories in order to live".
The truth is elusive in a military organization, as Gooding's superior officer, Lt. Col. Eustace (Staci) Harkleroad's letters to his mother prove. These are master classes in how to shade, evade and twist the facts just enough to show how delusional some people are. And, of course, not a delusional, pumped-up "word to Jim Powers at the Murfreesboro Free Press or the ladies at the First Church of Redemption". Of course not.
A real military man is Lt. Col. Vic Duret, who keeps his sanity by focusing on his dog and a certain part of his wife's anatomy back home as he and his men patrol outside the Green Zone. As long as he doesn't remember that his brother-in-law was in the Twin Towers. That's an image he cannot face but cannot forget. Instances when Duret and his men are on patrol show but one of Abrams's writing strengths. He easily and economically puts the reader in the middle of the chaos that is a routine patrol, sharing not only what the service men and women do right and honorably, but also how stacked the odds against them are and how quickly and randomly events can turn tragic or comic, or both.
Although many events in war, like the rest of life, are random, the catalyst to the plot here is Capt. Abe Shrinkle. He's the Frank Burns of our story, a would-be take-charge kinda guy who should never have left home. Shrinkle is the kind of guy other soldiers are tempted to shoot. When he makes one mistake too many, he's taken off patrol and put in charage of the exercise equipments and towels at the FOB rec center.
When Shrinkle realizes a slight moment of truth, Abrams writes with straight-to-the-heart accuracy in a passage powerful enough on its own. But later, another character is thrust into a turning point, and then feels "part of himself break away" on a metaphor that recalls the earlier passage. The eloquence in Abrams's purpose in writing by connecting the two passages is wisely used and pays off handsomely.
Like the other great war novels that show the absurdity of those who organize war and those who are placed in charge, Fobbit makes one wonder how any combat victories were ever achieved. Abrams also creates memorable characters who bring to life the years of strife, boredom and suffering endured by troops who were sent to fight and then forgotten by a public wrapped up reality TV and recession hardships. Like Willie Loman, the characters who live in Fobbit deserve to have attention paid to them.
shawntowner's review against another edition
3.0
Much of what I've read about this book compares it to Catch-22, and I can see some similarities, as both books spend time dealing with military bureaucracy. But while Catch-22 depicts an absurdly soul-crushing bureaucratic maze, Fobbit presents a more realistic view of the paperwork and command chains of the military. It's probably closer to The Office or Dilbert than it is to Catch-22. Because of this realistic bent, the book is just as much infuriating as it is funny. While we can laugh at the incompetent antics of Michael Scott or the PHB because they don't have real influence over people's lives. But with characters like Shrinkle in Fobbit, we see that comic incompetence result in unnecessary death and destruction. It's a weird read. I wouldn't say it's a great book--it's certainly not up to the level of Catch-22, The Things They Carried, or Going After Caciatto--but it's an important book.
danibeliveau's review against another edition
2.0
I had high hopes for this book. I thought it would be intimately relatable.
Abrams hit a few nails on the head: the way we exaggerate when we write home and the way we coopt other people's stories as our own; the gallows humor and the actual trauma we're forced to experience; how the mundane and the horrific exist side-by-side; the tension between desk jockies and the people who actually work for a living.
But these insights are buried under so many issues that it makes the book a challenge to read: each characters' narration are barely distinguishable from one another; all of them are evidently obsessed with boobs (seriously, tits are mentioned so often that it quickly went from a humorous insight into the sex-deprived soldiers' psyche to an uncomfortable reflection of the author's own fixation); the way Abrams characterized black people wasn't outright racist, but he definitely relies on some tired stereotypes.
The ideas behind Fobbit sound great in theory, but ultimately they failed to deliver. I'm grateful that David Abrams wrote this book, though. Civilians rarely get this sort of glimpse into the absurdity of military life and I hope they appreciate the stories Abrams has to tell. I'm going to write a book just like this one someday. Maybe Abrams will read it, too, and write me a below-average review. I won't hold it against him.
Abrams hit a few nails on the head: the way we exaggerate when we write home and the way we coopt other people's stories as our own; the gallows humor and the actual trauma we're forced to experience; how the mundane and the horrific exist side-by-side; the tension between desk jockies and the people who actually work for a living.
But these insights are buried under so many issues that it makes the book a challenge to read: each characters' narration are barely distinguishable from one another; all of them are evidently obsessed with boobs (seriously, tits are mentioned so often that it quickly went from a humorous insight into the sex-deprived soldiers' psyche to an uncomfortable reflection of the author's own fixation); the way Abrams characterized black people wasn't outright racist, but he definitely relies on some tired stereotypes.
The ideas behind Fobbit sound great in theory, but ultimately they failed to deliver. I'm grateful that David Abrams wrote this book, though. Civilians rarely get this sort of glimpse into the absurdity of military life and I hope they appreciate the stories Abrams has to tell. I'm going to write a book just like this one someday. Maybe Abrams will read it, too, and write me a below-average review. I won't hold it against him.
jennyshank's review against another edition
5.0
I never got a chance to write a review of David Abrams' novel Fobbit for any of the publications I review books for, but I wanted to take a moment to list some of the remarkable, funny, and touching parts of this great debut from 2012.
-I loved the whole concept of Fobbits, the servicemen and women stationed in the Forward Operating Base in Bagdad, who never had to leave the confines of the secured American compound.
-I loved the setting in the former palace of Saddam Hussein--we've seen stories of office functionaries butting heads over press releases (say, in "The Office" or in Joshua Ferris's "And Then We Came to the End") but never in this outlandish palace-in-Bagdad setting.
-I loved the devolution of the press releases Staff Sergeant Chance Gooding wrote--they started out vaguely accurate, and ended up riddled with insane army PR speak. It's perfect that the denouement revolved around the inability of the Public Affairs Officers (PAOs) to write a press release that could explain away a truly comical, sad, and gory occurrence.
-This book is full of glorious, hilarious incompetence. I loved the officer who hoarded care packages filled with baby wipes and carried on a correspondence with a randy, unhappily married Wyoming woman. But most of all I loved the Australian pool, off-limits for American servicemen and women, where Aussie members of the military kick back in bikinis and drink Fosters beer.
-I once heard this description of an "Irish moment," something that's funny and sad at the same time. This whole book was an Irish moment. In its zaniness, Fobbit still left me reflecting on the many men and women who served the United States in Iraq, and how much we owe to all of them, even those whose greatest battle wounds were paper cuts.
-I loved the whole concept of Fobbits, the servicemen and women stationed in the Forward Operating Base in Bagdad, who never had to leave the confines of the secured American compound.
-I loved the setting in the former palace of Saddam Hussein--we've seen stories of office functionaries butting heads over press releases (say, in "The Office" or in Joshua Ferris's "And Then We Came to the End") but never in this outlandish palace-in-Bagdad setting.
-I loved the devolution of the press releases Staff Sergeant Chance Gooding wrote--they started out vaguely accurate, and ended up riddled with insane army PR speak. It's perfect that the denouement revolved around the inability of the Public Affairs Officers (PAOs) to write a press release that could explain away a truly comical, sad, and gory occurrence.
-This book is full of glorious, hilarious incompetence. I loved the officer who hoarded care packages filled with baby wipes and carried on a correspondence with a randy, unhappily married Wyoming woman. But most of all I loved the Australian pool, off-limits for American servicemen and women, where Aussie members of the military kick back in bikinis and drink Fosters beer.
-I once heard this description of an "Irish moment," something that's funny and sad at the same time. This whole book was an Irish moment. In its zaniness, Fobbit still left me reflecting on the many men and women who served the United States in Iraq, and how much we owe to all of them, even those whose greatest battle wounds were paper cuts.
wallabees's review against another edition
Made it about 120 pages and quit. The writing wasn't bad I was not enjoying the story.
socopebbles's review against another edition
4.0
I don't know if this will be a classic war novel, or if it accurately depicts the feel of the War in Iraq. It's certainly funny, interesting, moving, and captures the pure inanity of military life. If there's a negative to the book, it's that it didn't feel like there was a proper ending. I enjoyed the rest of it so much, though, that it hardly matters. I can't wait to see what David Abrams writes next.
noramjenkins's review against another edition
2.0
Interesting book about the Iraq war from the perspective of it's pencil-pushers. It's not normally my type of book but it was interesting. The cover is what drew me to the new books rack at the library.
jwmcoaching's review against another edition
2.0
The first 50-some pages of this were well-written and entertaining...the next 70-odd pages were pretty well-trodden Iraq War narrative. There was nothing really that new, so I gave up not because it was poorly written, but because it was fairly generic and wasn't as absurdly comic as I'd been led to believe it would be.