The Viking Critical Library's version of Graham Greene's "The Quiet American" is an indispensible text for full appreciation of Greene's perceptions of Indochina, France's war there, and America's budding involvement. The editor, John C. Pratt carefully selects criticism of Greene's TQA that creates a complete and rich discourse on Greene's life and writings that serves as a backdrop to his novel. Added to that backdrop are histories, such as Frank Futrell's thirteen-page explanation of how the United States became involved in Vietnam, and official documents from the State Department, to interviews with former South Vietnamese generals and Ho Chi Minh.

TQA itself a wonderful book that,to an American, probes at our treasured notion high-minded idealism and our "can-do" spirit that has served us well at times and not so well at others. Greene's symbolism is telling and insightful, given that it was published well before the United States' full-blown involvement in that region of the world. While Greene relates many things that he experienced or felt in Indochina as a journalist, the book is not solely a "war novel". TQA, like many of Greene's books, takes the readers on the author's journey of personal morality and matters religious.

(This review refers to the Viking Critical Library edition, edited by John Clark Pratt)

Graham Greene's novel of Pyle, the "quiet American", employed by a barely-disguised fronting organisation of the CIA, narrated by Fowler, a British journalist who comes across by turns as weary and worldly, is immensely interesting. In it, Greene offers up perhaps his most incisive and insightful political commentary, treating the danger of allowing people guided solely by ideology and schools of academic thought to be responsible for intelligence fieldwork. Pyle, a graduate of Harvard, goes into Indochina, believing intensely in the necessity of enabling a "third column", General The's men, and employing them as an American proxy force.

Whether or not Pyle himself sees the implicit incompatibility of this abstract idea and reality is never quite clear: certainly Pyle plays witness to the destruction that his attempts to mobilise a third column bring about. He is not subject, though, to the gross revulsion at the wanton destruction of life that Fowler is. Equally certainly, Pyle's political views cost him his life: open to question, still, is whether or not Pyle himself was ever conscious of his fallacies, or if he remains blinded throughout. Rather than being a novel of a man's moral revelations, or telling of his relationship with the Divine, "The Quiet American" is far more a parable.

Greene's structure, his combined simplicity and complexity, and the thematic relevance of this novel, render it a deserving read. Additionally, the chronologies and commentaries upon foreign involvement in Indochina/Vietnam are both valuable and blessedly concise, and the collected reviews and critcal commentaries upon the novel serve as valuable tool for understanding.

In what is really the grandfather to all noir, foreign intrigue novels, Graham Greene produces not only one of the greatest novels of the 20th century, but also provides a scathing look at American and French policy in Vietnam. It is strange to read The Quiet American now, so long after the disastrous wars that killed millions of people and tore American apart. I would call it an almost tragic read, for in the pages of this provocative novel, Greene provides the roadmap for future disasters. The story is so scathing, so insightful, that one cannot help but to be forever affected. Greene?s tale is made even more effective in this wonderful volume, which provides the reader with numerous criticisms, defenses, and background documents.

Greene?s main character in the epic tale is Fowler, an amazingly interesting and complex British journalist covering the endless civil war in French Indochina. Fowler is one of the most engrossing literary characters I have ever read, as he is both worldly and horribly cynical. As if his own inner politics and views were not enough, his personal life also provides intriguing details. His wife back home in England is distant, foreign to him. In the meantime, Fowler has fallen in love with Phuong, a young Vietnamese woman. He finally feels some degree of happiness, of stability, even as the world rages on around him. The inquisitive Fowler is our eyes and ears as we watch a decrepit and corrupt colonialist system fight a hopeless war against ruthless insurgents. All the intricacies of French life in Indochina are described in picturesque detail, giving the book a beautiful travel book element to it.

The wartime peace Fowler has found is shattered with the arrival of Pyle, an American consulate official. Pyle is young, Ivy League, and idealistic to a dangerous degree. He is way over his head, as he knows little of the country or of its politics. The ?Quiet American?, as he is known, is a timid young man looking for the ?third way?, a way out of the civil war between communism and colonialism. Although known for his good heart and his boyish enthusiasm, Pyle hides a much darker side, revealed in a shocking way later on in the book. He strikes up a kind of friendship with Fowler, and, to Fowler?s dismay, falls in love Phuong. The book progresses, weaving the amazing story lines of war and love together in an unbelievably interesting book. The message Pyle gives us is a haunting reminder of American innocence about to be eaten alive in the confusing and shadowy jungles of Southeast Asia. The conclusion is just stunning, and it really stays with you.

Not only does this version include the wonderful novel, it also contains other samples of Greene?s writing concerning Indochina. The editor, Mr. Pratt, did a really marvelous job compiling a lot of disparate documents into a really effective overview of the war and the story itself. This edition should be the first and last volume any Greene fans need, as it amazingly thorough and respectful of Greene?s brilliant work.

There are some fine times in Gunning for Ho. My personal favorites are "A Lovely Day..." and the wonderfully mystic and deep "Stonehands..." This gives a glimpse into the author's not wanting to take responsibility for anything too heavy, though he certainly has and will in the future. It's like a fairy tale dream that can't come true. However the story has real merit and is wonderful.

The characters and stories are real and tragic. The Cat in the Cage horrified me. Here the writer actually got in touch with his sensitive more human side and touched me greatly.

However through the book, there is a distance between the author and his characters. As though he doesn't want to get too close. This is so blatant, I found myself not caring very much for them either.

More heart, more soul, more empathy, should be employed in this man's work. It goes without saying he is a superb writer. He simply needs to open himself up to his characters and likewise, he needs to open his characters up as well.

That sort of cutting off of emotions, is part of military training and being in a war, I suppose. But that war is over. A larger focus on the depth of emotion for writer and characters is what is needed.

Despite having been born in the latter years of the Vietnam War, and not having read deeply in the field, I am confident this collection of six short stories and a novella by a former Green Beret, is destined to be a classic of Vietnam War fiction. Destined because they resound with the truth--and aren't really concerned with making any political statement. Barnes's stories tell you about the young men who went off to war in an alien landscape, and how they--and those they left behind--were transformed forever. The first three stories are thematically joined by strong surreal elements that speak to the wider confusion and disorientation felt by many who served. More like Kafka than Conrad. The fourth and fifth stories are more straightforward tales of aftermath and picking up the pieces. I found the novella ("Tunnel Rat") to be somewhat more elusive than the stories, and less forceful. It may take a re-reading or two to really get at it. The final (and title) story is a direct descendant of Heart of Darkness, and succeeds in spite of traveling that well-worn path. As a whole, this collection is a testament to the humanity of the men who went to Vietnam.

H. Lee Barnes' collection of stories, Gunning For Ho, need not be looked at as just "Vietnam stories", rather they are stories of the soul, of man, of morality, and of America, uniquely America. This is a writer who doesn't shy away from wit or horror (often in the same paragraph, the same sentence) when describing the wars we fight with ourselves and the wars we fight with the enemy. A powerful, moving reminder that what matters is often not what is written on the page, but what we as readers take with us, to last a lifetime. Nothing short of brilliant.

Since reading One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest recently, it has rapidly become my favourite book. Kesey has managed to tell a story whilst making a complex political allegory, and that is incredibly refreshing. The characters are so vivid, both loveable and sometimes vile, and Kesey finds the balance between making their exploits humorous, and not patronising the patients of the asylum. McMurphy is a classic hero, but far more complex than most so-called Christ-like figures in literature. The Chief however steals the show for me. The writing during the time he tells how alcoholism is destroying his Father is incredibly moving. Using the Chief as the omnipresent narrator is a superb device employed by Kesey, as it allows a unique, personal and sometimes confusing insight into all the proceedings. Like all great literature, it makes you think, but does it with a unique sense of humour and character, and handles its heavy subject matter with ease: this is a simple read but devastatingly effective. The end of the book is both sad and yet also happy. That adjective sums up the book perfectly- happysad.

For a book written by a paid volunteer to use hallucinogenic drugs, a book written by a man who at some points while writing was under the influence of LSD and peyote, and a book that funded the writer's San Francisco to New York road trip on psychedelically painted bus, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest turned out perfectly normal, in fact even clever and stimulating. Considered a masterpiece by many, this novel is an extremely insightful satire of the society of the 1950's. Just as the drugs and psychedelic bus may suggest, Kesey could in fact be considered a founding-father of hippie-ism. His "hippie" attitudes shine through with this book, which in many ways challenges numerable aspects of authority and society. The setting is inspired by Kesey's work at the Menlo Park, Virginia hospital, where he was introduced to LSD by a government-sponsored program researching the effects of hallucinogenic drugs. This experience led him to continue his drug use, and further developed his opinions of society, which we can read about in this excellent book. The story starts when R.P. McMurphy is admitted into the mental ward, transferred from a work farm. He's a self-proclaimed gambling champion and womanizing sex machine, a rough-around-the-edges cowboy of a jokester. McMurphy is the one person who stands up to Nurse Ratched, the symbol of the cold oppression and conformity in society. The book is the story of the patients' struggle against the strict policy and rules of the ward. Under the leadership of McMurphy, who sings, laughs, walks around wearing only a towel, and does anything that he can think of which will disrupt the cold order that Nurse Ratched has on the ward, their adventures include everything from rowdy poker games, to a fishing trip, to a completely against policy late night party in the ward, complete with alcohol, marijuana, and prostitutes. The books end is sad, but realistic and a reminder of the control society ultimately has The narrator of the book is the paranoid Chief Bromden, a 7 foot something giant of an Indian who fakes deaf and dumb in order to hear everything and yet remain safe. It is his narration that keeps the book interesting. Bromden, always standing in the corner with a broom, is able to see and hear everything that goes on in the ward. He is extremely insightful and the style that Kesey uses to portray Bromden as a character is very entertaining to read. Bromden, a paranoid schizophrenic, at some points in the story, hallucinates. The imagery that he provides is usually mechanical and he often talks about seeing fog from a machine that the nurse controls. His hallucinations are metaphors, he describes the ward as having hidden mechanical components, and frequently he sees fog that represents confusion and fear. He depicts society as a combine, a giant machine, and all of the patients at the hospital are broken parts needing repair. They are parts that didn't fit into their place in the machine, didn't fit into the conformity of society. Not only is it an entertaining read, but also a compelling cautionary story. Kesey is giving a warning about a society centered around conformity. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest is Kesey's investigation of the control of the 1950's society over the individual, bringing into play themes ranging from the importance of laughter and sexuality to the definition of insanity. The book's ending gets mixed reactions, but it is realistic, and a reminder of the control society ultimately has. One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest is a fantastic book, a highly recommended read, both entertaining and intellectually stimulating, truly a masterpiece.

...the book is better.

I had to read _One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest_ for my Literature and Film class, and I don't think I've ever enjoyed a book "for school" as much as I enjoyed this one. I'd never seen the film before I read it, and not knowing the plot presented in the movie was definitely worth it.

If you've seen the movie (and even if you haven't), read the book for Dale Harding. Those who've seen the film will remember him as.. a rather dislikable character at odds with McMurphy throughout. He was done a -great- disservice in the film, and was by far my favorite character - I read it mostly to experience scenes with him.

Ken Kesey's prose is quirky and elegant - with such descriptions of physical idiosyncracies that I've never seen so accurately written - such as the way he describes Harding as trapping his pretty hands between his knees and folding his thin shoulders about his chest like green wings. It's difficult to understand at times, since the narrator, Chief Bromden, is also a mental patient on the ward and sees things differently than a sane person would - but anything he says that's hard to grasp at the beginning slowly becomes clear as the narrative goes on.

_One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest_ is made brilliant by a number of things: the beauty and eccentricity of the prose, the development of character, the layers of plot and subtext, and the subtle messages, meanings, and morals scattered throughout the pages in such a way that you learn them but don't realize they're there. I highly recommend this book - it's one that will stay with you again and again, and is warranted a second and third time reading.