I am the author of Ivory Fields, a novel. I wrote it soon after I came home from Vietnam. Not many have read the book. After thirty-three publishers turned it down, I lit a fire in a trash barrel behind a rented house in Iowa and burned up all my copies of the manuscript. Years and years went by, and the book became part of my distant memories of being a soldier, memories that would creep up on me when I was washing dishes or turning a key in a lock, memories that I wished away. Then one morning another copy of the novel arrived in the mail from an old friend who was cleaning out his files, and I realized I was glad to have it back. From time to time I look at it and I think.
We listened to this while driving to the beach, and both CA and I were mesmerized. This is a perspective on Vietnam that you don't usually find. Kidder was an honorable soldier, even though he dealt with uncertain feelings about being a soldier and the war itself. He is self-deprecating and modest, to a fault. A wonderful read. We are recommending it to our son and son-in-law and other friends, as well.