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185 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1999
More important than anything else is the look on people’s faces when you cross paths with them in the street, or in the store, or in the grocery line. You can always tell that you were—maybe still are, maybe always will be—a part of their family. Movies have this thing where it’s an event. You get dressed up, you go to dinner, and you go to the movies. You’re outside of your element. But with television, people are watching you in bed, at their kitchen table eating. You’re in their house.
But all around was the madness. Men in the lunatic rage of combat. Hungry for murder; thirsty for the blood that would drench the sand. Not their own, of course, never their own, because what fool ever goes to war expecting that he will be the one to die? The movie in your head has you as the hero, bravely whacking away at the bad guys. Courage without the sight of your own intestines spilled out in the buttery sunlight.