Review: Here, Bullet — Brian Turner

Posted on | May 11, 2008 | 1 Comment

Here, Bullet by Brian Turner was written during his 2003 – 2004 tour of duty in Iraq with the 3rd Stryker Brigade, 2nd Infantry Division. Almost every poem is accompanied by the location he wrote it (city, town, FOB, etc.). Turner earned a BFA prior to joining the US Army. He also served during 1999-2000 in Bosnia-Herzegovina with the 10th Mountain Division.

This collection is an intriguing read. It seems to follow his deployment chronologically. It’s a mixture of single moments that Turner describes in fine-point detail and whole days he pulls together into something coherent and frighteningly beautiful while reflecting. Some poems give you the distinct feeling that Turner was making sense of things while he wrote about them. Some are incredibly urgent, while others are relaxed or cautious. The ebb and flow of emotions while reading this book is–I imagine–similar to the ebb and flow that a soldier goes through during a year (at that time) in combat in surroundings so dissimilar from what they’re used to.

I have trouble finding a theme to discuss or a single, poignant piece of commentary about this book. It is short, but heavy and I find myself wanting to say (as I have about so many non-fiction or poetic works) that it breeds understanding in the reader. It does, but that doesn’t quite explain. So in lieu of struggling to be eloquent about a collection that moved me so much (and by a soldier whom my boyfriend served with while he wrote these poems) , I am going to let Turner’s words speak for themselves. Here are some of excerpts of my favorites.

from “Dream from the Malaria Pills”

“Bosch soaks his forearm in lighter fluid,
flares a match head and sets his skin on fire.”

from “What Every Soldier Should Know.”

“Always enter a home with your right foot,
the left is for cemeteries and unclean places.”
“Small children will play with you,
old men with their talk, women who offer chai–

and any one of them
may dance over your body tomorrow.”

from “2000 Lbs.”

“The civil affairs officer, Lt. Jackson, stares
at his missing hands, which make
no sense to him, no sense at all, to wave
these absurd stumps held in the air
where just a moment before he’s blown bubbles
out the Humvee window–”