Cherry by Nico Walker

I first heard about this book when it was talked about by Brian Van Reet, a former US Army tank crewman who served in Iraq, who then went on to write a very good novel set in the Iraq War, Spoils (which I reviewed here: https://bit.ly/2GWyscN). Brian’s review of Cherry was agnostic; he was initially concerned that the novel had been picked up in the first place, and then hyped, specifically because it’s story was so sensational, and while he then went on to say it was well written and that it was an important contribution, as a former serviceman he still has some reservations as to why it has received such attention. You can read Brian’s review here, it’s well worth a read: https://bit.ly/2SGelkz

Since then I have heard a lot about this book, for it has made a splash, rightly or wrongly. The reason for this notoriety is that Cherry’s author, Nico Walker, is serving a long stretch for armed robbery. An army medic, he served in Iraq and came back with PTSD. He then got hooked on heroin and ended up robbing banks to fund his fix. Nico Walker is at pains to stress that his novel, written in prison on an old-fashioned typewriter, is fiction. That said, it is clearly inspired by his own experiences, the protagonist an Iraq war veteran, an Army medic, returning from theatre with PTSD, only to end up addicted to heroin and then finally, robbing banks.

Cherry takes us through the narrator’s journey, from his aimless and rather rootless life prior to joining the army, through his decision to do so, then training, deployment to Iraq, and aftermath. The character hasn’t had a hard upbringing as such, at least the author doesn’t paint this as being the case, but he is the product of the post-industrial wasteland that is much of middle America (indeed, much of the Western world). Jobs are hard to come by, at least a career is; gone are the days of full employment, a job for life, a pension awaiting you at the end. He and his friends get high and drunk. They have sex. They try to fill their days and experience an all-too-familiar-to-many ennui. Indeed, when the narrator decides to join the army, this is with no real commitment, this is no lightbulb moment of revelation. Rather it is almost with a shrug: a friend has joined the Marine Corp, so why not? After all, he has nothing better to do. This feeling of listless apathy follows through to basic training. The narrator’s generation have grown up on a diet of Hollywood movies and video games; they’ve all seen Full Metal Jacket and the like; the drill sergeant is something familiar to them. Indeed, even those employed as drill sergeants seem not to have their heart in it, and the two sides, trainer and trainee, go through the motions.

As might be predicted, it is Iraq that punctures this sense of complacency. Neither the narrator, not any of his fellow soldiers, are prepared for what they face. It isn’t long before as a medic he is accompanying more than his fair share of patrols and witnessing sights no one should. It is here in Cherry that some of the most vivid and horrific scenes occur. In particular, there is one chapter that will stay with me. An IED has hit a patrol and they are trying to pull the bodies free from the vehicles. The victims have been torn asunder, quite literally. They’ve just pulled one dead soldier from the wreckage when a sergeant taps the narrator on the arm and tells him that there is still some of him in the truck. The narrator looks and sees “a string of fat running along what’s left of the driver’s seat, the frame of it.” So, he runs his glove encased fingers along, collecting the fat, rolls a ball of it and tosses it in an irrigation channel.

The rest of the novel details the narrator’s return home, his gradual decline into heroin dependency, and eventually, inept bank robbery to feed his addiction. In the acknowledgements at the back of the book, the author Nico Walker states that the main character is an asshole but kind of likeable, and this is true of sorts. On the one hand he sleeps around, lives a feckless existence, introduces others to heroin and through his own egotism prevents his girlfriend, Emily, from kicking her habit. On the other, he’s strangely guileless, adhering to a philosophy that there’s no point avenging wrongs, that when one is harmed the damage is already done and therefore seeking revenge is pointless. So even when dealers rip him off, he accepts this as his lot in life. Heroin in this novel is far from glamourised; this is a grubby addiction that robs those ensnared in its clutches of choices and dignity. When the narrator begins robbing banks it feels inevitable, the final destination of a sordid journey.

So, in final analysis, controversy and/or hype aside, was this book any good? Well yes, to an extent. There’s definitely a raw feel to the writing of Cherry. I’ve seen praise of this novel comparing it to Reservoir Dogs, or what would have happened had Holden Caulfield gone to war; while the story has been likened to Joseph Heller’s Catch 22. There’s an edginess to the text that is immediate and in the readers face.  That said, I can see why some might see its success, the praise it received, as problematic. As veterans like Brian Van Reet might point out, most of those who’ve served in Iraq or Afghanistan didn’t turn to mainlining heroin, didn’t rob banks, and there’s a certain salaciousness to the media’s embracing of Cherry. That said, this novel brings home the dreadful toll that the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan have had on swathes of working-class young men. In the United States and its allied nations (for let’s not kid ourselves that this is just an American issue) scores of young people with little or no prospects who’ve signed up to the military on the promise of skills, training, or education, have been left with life changing injuries, physical or mental. So, while Cherry is far from perfect as a novel, and perhaps even less so as an insight into the veteran experience, it is still a valuable addition to the Iraq War canon.

4 out of 5 stars