Profane Men by Rex Miller

Profane Men brings the dark and searing energy of such Miller horror classics as Slob and Chaingang to a story set in Vietnam during the late 1960’s. The novel is clearly informed by Miller’s personal experience. In fact, it’s filled with autobiographical touches (the central narrator character has a developing career in broadcast radio, among other things).

A rootless young man drifting through life and facing the likelihood of being drafted decides to choose his own destiny, seeking a way to avoid becoming cannon fodder. Unfortunately, he finds himself thrust into some of the worst corners of Vietnam, working with a team of assassins tracking a pirate radio broadcaster who seems to be supplying intelligence to the Viet Cong. And then things get complicated…

Other books by Rex Miller

While too many soldiers are fighting for the brass in the midst of the bloody Vietnam battles, Lt. Paul Bourne, hero of Eagles Cry Blood by Donald E. Zlotnik, is compelled to fight the enemy for his country’s freedom. But when he comes up against his captain – a man driven by selfishness and a desire for recognition and glory – Bourne is even more determined to destroy the enemy. even if this means sacrificing his life.

One Amazon reviewer who gave it five stars writes, “For those interested in understanding one soldier’s view of the US Special Forces and covert special operations in the Vietnam era, I HIGHLY recommend Eagles Cry Blood. The author is well qualified. For 18 months, Donald Zlotnik served in combat as a highly-decorated officer in Vietnam in a Special Forces A-team and then in top secret ‘recon’ special operations…Buy and read Eagles Cry Blood. It’s a classic and more importantly a tribute to the bravest of the brave.”

Although best-known for her lightly humorous fantasies and for her collaborations with Anne McCaffrey on the Petaybee and Acorna series, Elizabeth Anne Scarborough has also written Healer’s War, a classic novel of the Vietnam War, enriched with a magical, mystical twist. It won the 1989 Nebula Award for Best Novel of 1988. The Minneapolis Star Tribune called it “A brutal and beautiful book.”

Scarborough herself was a nurse in Vietnam during the war and she draws on her own personal experiences to create the central character, Lt. Kitty McCulley. McCulley, a young and inexperienced nurse tossed into a stressful and chaotic situation, is having a difficult time reconciling her duty to help and heal with the indifference and overt racism of some of her colleagues and with the horrendously damaged soldiers and Vietnamese civilians whom she encounters during her service at the China Beach medical facilities.

She is unexpectedly helped by the mysterious and inexplicable properties of an amulet, given to her by one of her patients, an elderly, dying Vietnamese holy man, which allows her to see other people’s auras and understand more about. This eventually leads to a strange, almost surrealistic journey through the jungle, accompanied by a one-legged boy and a battle-seasoned but crazed soldier. By the end of the journey, McCulley has found herself and a way to survive through the madness and destruction.

Early in the 1980s I had the privilege of serving as agent for The 13th Valley by John Del Vecchio, a stunning novel about the Vietnam War. I remember making an appointment with Marc Jaffe, the legendary editorial director of Bantam Books whom I held in awe, and handing him the manuscript saying,  “I’ve waited years to have something worthy enough to submit to you.”

Bantam acquired and published it and it garnered the kind of notices that few authors and agents dare to dream of.  Many of them said it there would never be so fine a book about the war as The 13th Valley. As Vietnam and its lessons faded in memory, tragically supplanted by other wars, it looked pretty certain that indeed there would never be another work of fiction about that episode to match The 13th Valley.

So, I was surprised and intrigued when Matterhorn, a novel by Karl Merlantes about the Vietnam War published by Grove Atlantic, arrived on my desk a week or two ago with a personal note from Jofie Ferrari-Adler, its editor, commending it to me.  Ferrari-Adler is not only a fine editor in the classic mold but the author of a wonderful series of interviews with distinguished editors and literary agents published in Poets & Writers.

On the strength of his passionate recommendation I read Matterhorn over the last week and completely concur with him: for raw terror and heartbreak you will seldom read a better book about Vietnam or any other war.  And yes, it more than holds its own with The 13th Valley.  Early in the book a medical crisis – every male’s worst nightmare – arises so horrifying that I defy any man to read it without doubling over in abject dread.

And things only grow worse from there.  Far, far worse. Terribly, terribly worse.

The lesson of Matterhorn is not just that war is hell, but that we forget so quickly and completely that war is hell. Twenty years separate World War I, the war that was supposed to end all wars, from World War II; five from that one to Korea; ten from Korea to Vietnam; twenty to Desert Storm and ten to the second Iraq war. Matterhorn bears witness to the truth that those who forget history are doomed to repeat it.  For that reason alone it must be read.

Perhaps the most endearing tradition in our industry and one that cannot be duplicated in the digital era is the bestowal of books by editors upon publishing colleagues.  The gift says something about the giver, the recipient, and the gift itself.   “We share visions! We share tastes! We share viewpoints! We share passions!”  When you hear its denizens talk about “The publishing community” it’s that collective frame of reference that homogenizes disparate and sometimes warring elements around that mute object, the book.

Sadly, the economics of our industry have compromised this tradition. But from time to time a book will fetch up on my desk or be handed to me across the luncheon table and the editor will say “You simply have GOT to read this!” and we remember why we’re still in this business.

And that is my way of publicly thanking Jofie Ferrari-Adler for this precious gift. The best way for me to repay him is to say: You simply have GOT to read Matterhorn.

Richard Curtis