Give War a Chance (1992)

Funny in a way that you can predict what the next sentence is going to be in a "if you have read one you have read them all" kind of way. I think the visceral hatred for democrats is quite unwarranted and I did detect traces of racism.

Funny in a way that you can predict what the next sentence is going to be in a "if you have read one you have read them all" kind of way. I think the visceral hatred for democrats is quite unwarranted and I did detect traces of racism.

If Viet Nam was the first TV war, then Gulf War I was the first MTV war, and P.J. O’Rourke was the perfect journalist to cover it. ‘Give war a chance’ collects, among other things, his reportage from the front but more importantly the rear of the back line during the build up to, and the aftermath of, Gulf War I. Because O’Rourke is reporting from a war zone, at least some of the time, that section of the book can legitimately be called ‘dispatches’ and, in truth, they are deserving of the title. The section on the Gulf War is by far the most entertaining part of the book, and not just because it’s the reader’s chance to read about the slightly smug O’Rourke being taken well out of his comfort zone, the perimeter of that zone extending only as far as anywhere where there is a ready supply of alcohol. The battlefront of a desert war in the Middle East does not fit that description, which is a shame, because it’s also starkly apparent that it’s very much the one place where you’d really, really, like a drink. Worryingly, the dispatches read like dark comic fiction, covering not just the troops but also the staff at the rear and the press corps. As with all war stories, certain images stick in the mind, most poignantly the sequence in which, after many weeks away from home and loved ones, the press corps are on their flight home and, on clearing Middle Eastern airspace, are tearfully reunited with their close friend Johnny Walker as the drinks cabinet on the 747 is opened for business.
War is hell, when you’re sober.
This collection of journalism makes one thing abundantly clear; P.J.O’Rourke does not like liberals. Or commies, or pinkos, or peaceniks, or lefties, or in fact centeries, or indeed many righties. Or Hollywood, which considering the amount of action movies with a right wing theme they produce is something of a surprise, but possibly this is an accurate reflection of the American inability to separate fiction from fact and movies from either.
In fact P.J. O’Rourke doesn’t much like anybody, except presumably for Mrs P.J.
To an extent, he has a point. An examination of anyone in charge of anything larger than a telephone box and anyone who has sought a position of authority usually promptly reveals ineptitude of some kind or another. The problem is that with the left, they excuse their bungling as well meaning while those on the right are at least up front enough to admit, usually, that any mistakes are made in a ruthless attempt to grab more mineral wealth for the folks back home.
Overall, it’s entertaining enough stuff. Page after page of scathing attacks on the liberal establishment, figures on the left and institutions that espouse hard-left, left, centrist, centrist right and indeed right wing thinking could get a little wearing, but what’s clear are that there are just so many legitimate targets of O’Rourke’s pen and ire that while the pace may be tiring, the prose never is. P.J. O’Rourke is righteously angry on your behalf to save you the time, trouble and energy, so leaving you free to complete useful tasks such as empting the dishwasher, making a sandwich, and generally getting on with your life. And for that we should be thankful.
The writing covers everything from wanderings around the Eastern Bloc, to wanderings around the former Eastern Bloc, to a piece about the Kennedys so vitriolic that it was like somebody ranting in your face, but without the spittle.
There’s also a lovely little essay, appropriately enough right in the heart of the book, which more or less explains why O’Rourke is the alcohol and ire filled journalist he appears to be on the page. Essentially, he is a disillusioned leftie himself. Or perhaps reformed would be a better word. Or recovering. There’s no greater zealot than a convert and in this case the hammer of the left probably still has a pair of sandals at the back of the closet.
‘Give war a chance’ is an interesting, provocative and possibly offensive collection of dispatches, columns, essays, rants and reportage. ( )

A well-written and very funny book. The insights given are also very much food for thought ( )