A Baffled Ambuscade by Ambrose Bierce, 1906 Continue reading
Killed At Resaca by Ambrose Bierce, 1887 Continue reading
Four Days In Dixie by Ambrose Bierce, 1888 Continue reading
A Horseman In The Sky by Ambrose Bierce, 1889 Continue reading
An Occurrence At Owl Creek Bridge by Ambrose Bierce, 1890 Continue reading
Shall Not Perish by William Faulkner, 1943 Continue reading
Wash by William Faulkner, 1934 Continue reading
Chickamauga by Ambrose Bierce, 1889
The magic trick:
Presenting the American Civil War from a child’s viewpoint
Historical fiction scares me. Done well, it can provide insights into the emotional weight behind the dry facts that no straight history could ever provide. Done poorly, though, it can spread misinformation and totally skew someone’s understanding of the past. Fortunately, “Chickamauga,” as with almost all of Bierce’s remarkable oeuvre, falls firmly in the former category.
By presenting the Battle of Chickamauga from the viewpoint of an innocent, local boy, Bierce brings the history – tragic as it is – to life. That is especially important, I feel, in the world of the American Civil War, where fan boys (including myself) have a tendency to lose track of the true human toll in their excitement to study battle maps and collect memorabilia. A story like “Chickamauga” brings the torture of war back to the fore, where it belongs. And that’s quite a trick on Bierce’s part.
They were men. They crept upon their hands and knees. They used their hands only, dragging their legs. They used their knees only, their arms hanging idle at their sides. They strove to rise to their feet, but fell prone in the attempt. They did nothing naturally, and nothing alike, save only to advance foot by foot in the same direction. Singly, in pairs and in little groups, they came on through the gloom, some halting now and again while others crept slowly past them, then resuming their movement.
The Survivors by Elsie Singmaster, 1915
The magic trick:
Rooting the story in the real history of the American Civil War
I do not particularly care for this story. Nearly every good story offers at least two levels of narrative and meaning. Singmaster, here, shows only one: the story of two cousins estranged by the Civil War eventually coming back together after many years. The metaphor – divided family as divided country – doesn’t do much for me. What I did like was the fact that Singmaster’s story relies on a actual events for context. The story becomes a window into post-war relations and situations. And that’s quite a trick on Singmaster’s part.
Fosterville was a border town; in it enthusiasm had run high, and many more men had enlisted than those required by the draft. All the men were on the same side but Adam Foust, who, slipping away, joined himself to the troops of his mother’s Southern State.