Johnny Got His Gun

The first time I read this, I was in high school. I remembered my impression of it was very favorable. But because that was about 25 years ago and I couldn't recall its details, I picked it up again, and was just as in awe as the last time.

Is this book about WW1? Yes, and no. . .

Joe Bonham is an emaciated WW1 war vet 'imprisoned' in the hospital. But he's no ordinary injured vet. He has no mouth, eyes, ears, or nose, and no limbs. Except, he doesn't realize it right away. Instead, we are thrown into an uninterrupted flow of consciousness in which his mind embraces the many significant moments of his life, before the war. Precious, cherished memories.

People call this the 'best anti-war novel', but, to me, it doesn't read that way. Out of the 243 pages, about 10 pages are filled with a bitter floodgate of animosity about war, and honestly, they feel like such an abrupt departure from the rest of his thoughts that it almost feels like someone else took over in those moments.

WHAT THIS NOVEL IS ABOUT IS THE LOVE OF LIFE.

Once Joe realizes what has happened to him, that the shell took almost his entire body, and that he has only the ability to think and slightly jerk his head (to communicate), he hardly dwells on the war or about what's happened to him. Instead, his thoughts dash gratefully to fond memories of family, lovers, friends, and nature, the best of his life.

At least five years go by in which he is a slave in the hospital, and yet he finds a way to make the time fly, by expressing his gratitude to Christ for his life while anxiously hoping for one of the nurses to understand his needs, especially once he fishes back in time to a memory where he used the Morse code to communicate.

THIS NOVEL IS ABOUT GRATITUDE

Here is a man, literally unable to do anything but think, trapped in darkness, and yet enjoying relishing in nostalgia and believing that one day he will find a way to reach somebody. Instead of drowning in depression and despair, he drinks in the elixir of hope, the belief that one day he will not be alone in this world. When he finds someone who senses he is trying to speak, his heart is as elated as a young child's. He explicitly discusses Christ in His glory and his thankfulness to God for "I will always have dawn and morning sunlight".

In the end, the reality of what they deny him, to be heard, comes through, and the final pages echo a terrible harsh dark reality of the aftermath of war, of him literally and metaphorically having no say.

But, overall, more than anything else, Joe Bonham, against all of those lonely years, embraced endurance.