I didn’t grow up around the military, but I did grow up being very aware of its role in American life. I played “Army” with my friends in my Dad’s leftover fatigues from his handful of years serving in the Air Force in the early ‘70s. Also, I knew both my paternal grandparents served in the Army Air Corps during World War II (even if they never talked about any of it).
Taking it a step further, I loved watching G.I. Joe as part of my Saturday morning cartoon regimen – my favorite character was Snake Eyes. And as a window into the obsessive organizing tendencies, I memorized the complete system of ranks for the United States Army to assure that my friends and I used the correct ranks when tromping around the neighborhood on missions.
I was 11 when Desert Storm began. My Dad spent hours absorbing CNN coverage throughout that entire conflict, and I watched everything he would let me. I proudly wore a “These Colors Don’t Run” shirt to middle school. As my parents will tell you, I was the person who introduced them to Rush Limbaugh in the mid-‘90s.
I was your standard red-blooded conservative American male, complete with the rank of Eagle Scout and fundamentalist Christian beliefs. Yet, I never wanted to join the military. Well, there was a brief window when I wanted to fly planes in the Air Force so I could become an astronaut and go into space – but then I learned that people with terrible vision couldn’t do those things. There went one dream dashed.
Not only did I not want to enter the military, but neither my Grandfather nor Dad once mentioned that I should consider military service – not even for any sort of G.I. Bill reasons to pay for college. As the oldest of 4 boys in a single-income home, you’d think my parents would suggest such an option to relieve the financial burden. But nope.
The point of all of this biographical information? It’s the context with which I dove headlong into Citizen of Earth by Joseph Kassabian. The first entry of the still-in-progress Galaxy on Fire series from Kyanite Publishing, it told the story of Vincent Solaris and his military service for a supremely fascist Planet Earth in the not-so-distant future. It was brutal and unflinching in its portrayal of the raw treatment young recruits experience during both basic training and field maneuvers.
And it rather shook me. Sure, I’ve seen Apocalypse Now, Full Metal Jacket, and other storied films about life in the military. But picturing in my mind’s eyes what Vincent, Fiona, and their friends went through over the course of the story was much more gut-wrenching and disorienting than simply seeing it play out on screen. It was truly outside my realm of expertise, but Kassabian’s penchant for kinetic motion and completely earned twists throughout Citizen of Earth kept me enthralled.
Others who’ve reviewed this superb piece of military science fiction make the apt comparison to John Scalzi’s Old Man’s War. I found it to be more reflective of the overt fascism-as-religion of George Orwell’s 1984 and reminiscent of the novels and memoirs I’ve read about World War I. Specifically, All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque comes to mind, especially its grim portrayal of war and how its abject violence was ultimately nonsensical and meaningless. Kassabian even paid homage to the novel by naming Vincent’s drill instructor after the nasty Corporal Himmelstoss.
The comparison bore fruit in three distinct ways:
- Nearly everyone Vincent met and bonded with during the course of his military service died, often in ugly, ignoble fashion.
- The military was filled with equal parts true believers who joined for patriotic reasons, those who signed up for masculine (or masochistic) glory, and folks escaping the drudgery of a dead-end life at home.
- The deaths Vincent witnessed were chronicled with deadly efficiency, giving his character very little time to process the trauma, especially if he wants to stay alive.
The entire effect was one of stellar world-building packed with showing and not telling, followed by rich character development – even if that person doesn’t stay alive for too long. Kassabian’s writing put the reader right “in the shit,” as it’s descriptive without being florid and animated without being frantic or frenetic.
Vincent couldn’t be a better or more effective point-of-view character for the reader. He had a distinct voice for relaying the physical, mental, and emotional action. His growing self-awareness was the book’s most important story arc:
- Through an act of low-key rebellion against the state, he was forcibly drafted into the military.
- He and his fellow fuck-ups bonded over being outsiders.
- They lucked into success merely by acting to save their own asses during a basic training exercise.
- He realized he has a keen nose for survival and hearty lucky streak, especially once the war kicks off on a faraway planet.
- He continually recognized that his survival doesn’t mean he’s special, but more that the universe is capricious and random.
As excellent as Vincent is as the avatar for the reader, my favorite character in Citizen of Earth was Fiona, a human woman raised on Mars. She arrived fully formed as a character, which allowed her to be the reader’s glimpse into how Earth actually operated in this fascist future.
The vast majority of the citizens of Earth blindly followed the rules and believed the history as dictated by a shadowy figure called “The Chairman” and his agents. It’s a highly militarized and stratified world wherein citizenship is earned, highly regimented, and easily revoked. People did what they’re told so they can avoid pain from the state and its thought police. The result was an Earth where obedience was enforced through snitching, paranoia, and subservience, while their actions were racist, xenophobic, and jingoistic.
And sadly, the day-to-day life of humanity as described in that paragraph didn’t sound as far-fetched and far-away as it should.
Fiona represented the results of Earth’s actual policies because, in retaliation for rebelling against Earth’s domination, the citizens of Mars were forced to give up their first-born children to life-long military service – forever. She carried an entire mountain on her shoulder, and that bitterness drove her forward against all comers.
By wholesale accepting that she didn’t have a future, she lived her life with a rather nihilistic joie de vivre that Vincent found shocking, inspiring, and attractive. Her character was an unflinching badass in the mold of Ellen Ripley, Sarah Connor, and Tasha Yar, complete with her own consistent morality and code of ethics. She and Star Wars’ Rey were most definitely two sides of the same coin.
Citizen of Earth aptly tracked Vincent’s growth from being a generic teen wastoid wallowing in his faux rebellion and lack of ambition to becoming a war-ravaged soldier and conflicted human who was forced to grow up quickly. An attuned reader should notice how Vincent’s points of conflict arose just before he has an “ah-HA” moment, which, to me, was the hallmark of good writing and scene-setting. And like any good first book in a series, it had a clean ending that stands on its own while still pointing the way toward what could happen next in the subsequent installments.
At its heart, Citizen of Earth was a trenchant warning about humanity’s all-too-frequent penchant for an authoritarian “Daddy” to solve all its problems – even in space. Thankfully, Joseph Kassabian defused what could be an overwrought screed by crafting a compelling narrative powered by a subtle examination of war, its inherent stupidity, propaganda, and political messaging.
For more excellent commentary on military, politics, and history, I heartily recommend you check out Kassabian’s podcast, Lions Led by Donkeys. His first book, entitled The Hooligans of Kandahar, is a nonfiction account of his time serving in the United States Army.