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I Am The River
During the last desperate days of the Vietnam War, American soldier Israel Broussard is assigned to a secret CIA PSYOP far behind enemy lines meant to drive terror into the heart of the North Vietnamese and end an unwinnable war. When the mission goes sideways, Broussard is plunged into a nightmare that he soon finds he is unable to escape, dragging a remnant of that night in the Laotian wilderness with him no matter how far he runs.
Five years later, too damaged to return home and holed up in the slums of Bangkok, where he battles sleep, guilt, and a creeping sense of madness, Broussard discovers that he must journey back to the jungles of Laos in an attempt to set things right and reclaim what is left of his life.
A fever dream with a Benzedrine chaser, I Am The River provides a daring, often surreal examination of the Vietnam War and the days after it, burrowing down past the bullets and battlefields to discover the lingering horror of warfare, the human consequences of organized violence, and the lasting effects of trauma on the psyche, and the soul.
Five years later, too damaged to return home and holed up in the slums of Bangkok, where he battles sleep, guilt, and a creeping sense of madness, Broussard discovers that he must journey back to the jungles of Laos in an attempt to set things right and reclaim what is left of his life.
A fever dream with a Benzedrine chaser, I Am The River provides a daring, often surreal examination of the Vietnam War and the days after it, burrowing down past the bullets and battlefields to discover the lingering horror of warfare, the human consequences of organized violence, and the lasting effects of trauma on the psyche, and the soul.
220 pages, Paperback
First published August 31, 2018
About the author
T.E. Grau
30 books417 followersT.E. Grau is a Shirley Jackson Award- and Bram Stoker Award-nominated author, screenwriter, producer, and graphic novel writer whose books include I Am The River (nominated for the 2018 Bram Stoker Award® for Superior Achievement in a First Novel), They Don’t Come Home Anymore, The Nameless Dark (nominated for the 2015 Shirley Jackson Award for Single-Author Collection), The Mission, Triptych: Three Cosmic Tales, and These Old and Dirty Gods (Diese Alten und Dreckigen Götter – German language edition). His work has been published around the world, translated into Spanish, French, Italian, German, and Japanese. Grau lives in Los Angeles, and is represented by Kim Yau (film/TV – Los Angeles) at Echo Lake Management, and Katelyn Dougherty (literary – New York) at Paradigm Talent Agency.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 85 reviews
February 26, 2018
This book kicked my little butt. Vietnam novel that's about more, about the weight and cost of violence in our actions and our hearts. Dark, hallucinatory, amazing.
September 5, 2018
Hallucinatory, gripping and haunting, I AM THE RIVER by Ted E. Grau should rank as one of the best novels of 2018. The masterful point of view shifts and often stream-of-consciousness pacing makes for a riveting, oneiric read. In the author's hands, this bleak, nightmarish and deeply unsettling tale is not only palatable... but delectable. Of course, I expect such quality from Grau. Everything he has written heretofore is bizarre, literary gold. That stated, this book represents Grau's best work to date, and it is a must read.
February 28, 2019
This was a tense nightmare in book form. Reminded me of that old movie with Tim Robbins "Jacob's Ladder", but better. The characters are haunted individuals but very relatable with Darby being a standout for me. There is a scene at the end right before the climax where Darby and the main character are talking about what makes them who they are that is just sublime writing. Besides the realistic interactions and dialogue there are some truly unique and frightening scenes in here that were unsettling and freaked me out. This is a story about war but there is no clearly defined good guys vs. bad guys with everyone instead existing in a murky grey middle area. I wanted to read something by someone I had never read before and I also wanted something that would scare me, which this was and did, but I ended up with something that was so much more than expected. This will also probably be something I reread at a later date because it is just that good. Five, no doubt about 'em, stars.
September 26, 2018
Among the trash-ridden streets of Bangkok, we are introduced to Broussard, who’s broken and thoroughly haunted by his actions before and during the war in Vietnam, a man without a future running from his past. Broussard tried to escape the alienation and isolation that American society in the late sixties offered him as an African American from down south. But in the damp, dark jungles of Vietnam, he finds a new kind of alienation and isolation, drifting further from what makes him a part of humanity as he sees young boys driven over the edge and dying, fighting a war the American government knows is doomed to fail. During an offensive, Broussard fails to take any action against the enemy and the US army brands him a coward for his behavior. But instead of shipping him home in disgrace, he is picked up by a secretive operative to go on a mission that does not exist, deep into the jungles of Laos with a squad of other “rejects”, to win the war using extremely unconventional and horrifying means.
“No one was getting stuck here unless the jungle commanded it. So far, it hadn’t wanted their jeep, or these two fish inside of it. Like the people and the animals born of this land, the jungle wanted them to pass on through and leave everything alone. But like a jilted suitor, the United States military just couldn’t do it. Couldn’t leave well enough alone.”
The humid, claustrophobic jungles of Vietnam and Laos comes vividly to life and the garbage-strewn streets of Bangkok seemed to seep into my living room as I read this, and there is a creeping sense of paranoia that digs into your skull, refusing to let go until the novel reaches its end. The novel opens with a quote from Blood Meridian, and quite fittingly so, as Grau reads like Cormac McCarthy if he wrote cosmic horror. There is a bleak cynicism towards humanity, and the works of men in his writing, a sense of hopelessness as the characters move towards an uncertain end. Grau beautifully treats the cosmic horror of the novel as part of the damaged psyche of the main character, damaged and broken by war, memories, and addiction, or perhaps the yawning blackness running through the jungle, through Broussard’s mind, is horrifyingly real.
“The sun finally dies in the western sky. The dome above them is black at the apex and dropping slow like a curtain toward the edge of the world, peppered by the salt of a billion billion stars, most of them dead a trillion years back. Maybe I died then, too, and came back to the third planet orbiting this tiny star each and every night as the candlelight shadow of the long dead. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.”
Much like in Apocalypse Now, the war and Broussard’s journey is treated like a hallucinatory nightmare, and the further he ventures into the jungle, the worse it becomes. Viewpoints shift, time lapses, skips, and jumps, locations meld and become ethereal as the dark, roaring river threatens to consume Broussard’s mind. Grau also conjures up Algernon Blackwood’s strange tales of sentient nature and man’s inability to deal with a world hidden beyond the realm of the mundane.
I Am the River is an absolute beast of a novel, digging itself into your mind from the first chapter and refuses to let go. Grau has taken inspiration from some of the finest authors of Weird fiction, like H.P. Lovecraft, Algernon Blackwood, Thomas Ligotti and Laird Barron and mixed it with the harsh, relentless prose of Cormac McCarthy and created a novel wholly his own, proving that T.E. Grau is one of the finest authors working in strange fiction today. An absolute must-read.
“No one was getting stuck here unless the jungle commanded it. So far, it hadn’t wanted their jeep, or these two fish inside of it. Like the people and the animals born of this land, the jungle wanted them to pass on through and leave everything alone. But like a jilted suitor, the United States military just couldn’t do it. Couldn’t leave well enough alone.”
The humid, claustrophobic jungles of Vietnam and Laos comes vividly to life and the garbage-strewn streets of Bangkok seemed to seep into my living room as I read this, and there is a creeping sense of paranoia that digs into your skull, refusing to let go until the novel reaches its end. The novel opens with a quote from Blood Meridian, and quite fittingly so, as Grau reads like Cormac McCarthy if he wrote cosmic horror. There is a bleak cynicism towards humanity, and the works of men in his writing, a sense of hopelessness as the characters move towards an uncertain end. Grau beautifully treats the cosmic horror of the novel as part of the damaged psyche of the main character, damaged and broken by war, memories, and addiction, or perhaps the yawning blackness running through the jungle, through Broussard’s mind, is horrifyingly real.
“The sun finally dies in the western sky. The dome above them is black at the apex and dropping slow like a curtain toward the edge of the world, peppered by the salt of a billion billion stars, most of them dead a trillion years back. Maybe I died then, too, and came back to the third planet orbiting this tiny star each and every night as the candlelight shadow of the long dead. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.”
Much like in Apocalypse Now, the war and Broussard’s journey is treated like a hallucinatory nightmare, and the further he ventures into the jungle, the worse it becomes. Viewpoints shift, time lapses, skips, and jumps, locations meld and become ethereal as the dark, roaring river threatens to consume Broussard’s mind. Grau also conjures up Algernon Blackwood’s strange tales of sentient nature and man’s inability to deal with a world hidden beyond the realm of the mundane.
I Am the River is an absolute beast of a novel, digging itself into your mind from the first chapter and refuses to let go. Grau has taken inspiration from some of the finest authors of Weird fiction, like H.P. Lovecraft, Algernon Blackwood, Thomas Ligotti and Laird Barron and mixed it with the harsh, relentless prose of Cormac McCarthy and created a novel wholly his own, proving that T.E. Grau is one of the finest authors working in strange fiction today. An absolute must-read.
June 3, 2021
Una mezcla perfecta de Apocalipsis now con Thomas Ligotti o Algernon Blackwood. Una novela que te sujeta y no deja que te despegues hasta terminarla. Brossard es un ex-marine negro que malvive en las calles de Bangkok después de una extraña misión que le llevo a Laos durante la guerra de Vietnam. Vive entre recuerdos y alucinaciones de un ser que le persigue por los pecados que cometió en esa misión. La novela salta en flashbacks del presente al pasado para contarnos como Brossard y cinco compañeros fueron transladados a Laos para una misión extraoficial donde seguiran a una especie de sargento loco a lo general Kurtz llamado Chapel, para llevar el terror a los vietnamitas y así poder ganar la guerra. Una interesante mezcla de guerra, pasajes alucinados o orínicos y terror que hace de esta obra algo original y enfoca el tema de la guerra desde una perspectiva terrorífica, más aún si cabe.
May 13, 2021
Como ya he publicado la reseña en #ConsuLeo, dejo por aquí el enlace:
https://consuleoluegoexisto.com/2021/...
https://consuleoluegoexisto.com/2021/...
October 29, 2021
Un viaje interior oscuro y doloroso.
August 8, 2022
Una lectura compleja, con un claro mensaje antibelicista, pero que a mí no ha terminado de llenarme a pesar de estar muy bien escrita.
Quizá sea que este tipo de terror cósmico mezclado con La Guerra de Vietnam 🇻🇳, no es mi mezcla preferida y he sentido esta lectura como distante, no he conseguido que la narrativa me envolviera.
Nos vamos a encontrar un descenso a los infiernos de un ex antiguo combatiente en el conflicto anteriormente nombrado, llevándonos de la mano a ese trauma que persiste en su mente y cuerpo y que se convierte en una pesadilla recurrente y de la que no puede salir, probablemente deba volver a la jungla que una vez fue testigo de una masacre para tratar de recuperar su vida ¿lo conseguirá?.
Quizá sea que este tipo de terror cósmico mezclado con La Guerra de Vietnam 🇻🇳, no es mi mezcla preferida y he sentido esta lectura como distante, no he conseguido que la narrativa me envolviera.
Nos vamos a encontrar un descenso a los infiernos de un ex antiguo combatiente en el conflicto anteriormente nombrado, llevándonos de la mano a ese trauma que persiste en su mente y cuerpo y que se convierte en una pesadilla recurrente y de la que no puede salir, probablemente deba volver a la jungla que una vez fue testigo de una masacre para tratar de recuperar su vida ¿lo conseguirá?.
May 28, 2021
La reseña completa en http://inthenevernever.blogspot.com/2...
«Anhelaba ser más fuerte, pero era consciente de que no lo era. Tenía miedo a morir. El temor a matar era aún mayor. Se trataba de los terrores parejos. Monstruosos, definitivos y totalmente inciertos en su resultado».
¿Qué pasaría si sobrevives a la guerra pero algo aterrador regresa contigo? ¿Qué estarías dispuesto a realizar con el fin de vivir un día más? ¿Qué es realidad y qué es ficción para una mente profundamente herida? Hoy quiero hablarles de Yo soy el río, de T. E. Grau. Una impresionante novela de terror que nos llevará a explorar la Guerra de Vietnam desde la perspectiva de un superviviente que no ha logrado escapar de lo que allí ocurrió.
«Anhelaba ser más fuerte, pero era consciente de que no lo era. Tenía miedo a morir. El temor a matar era aún mayor. Se trataba de los terrores parejos. Monstruosos, definitivos y totalmente inciertos en su resultado».
¿Qué pasaría si sobrevives a la guerra pero algo aterrador regresa contigo? ¿Qué estarías dispuesto a realizar con el fin de vivir un día más? ¿Qué es realidad y qué es ficción para una mente profundamente herida? Hoy quiero hablarles de Yo soy el río, de T. E. Grau. Una impresionante novela de terror que nos llevará a explorar la Guerra de Vietnam desde la perspectiva de un superviviente que no ha logrado escapar de lo que allí ocurrió.
November 25, 2018
I haven't been this blown away since Peter Straub's Koko.
Tried to write a review, but words fail me.
Highest possible recommendation.
Tried to write a review, but words fail me.
Highest possible recommendation.
June 2, 2024
The sun finally dies in the western sky. The dome above them is black at the apex and dropping slow like a curtain toward the edge of the world, peppered by the salt of a billion billion stars, most of them dead a trillion years back. Maybe I died then, too, and came back to the third planet orbiting this tiny star each and every night as the candlelight shadow of the long dead. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.
Oh My Fucking God.
A Vietnam war historical fiction novel, with a broken veteran lost in Bangkok, a vengeful ghost, cosmic horror that infuses a hallucinatory journey that pays homage to Heart of Darkness and Apocalypse Now.
I must have been living in a hole in the ground not to have heard of this book before. What an amazing talent T.E. Grau is! I will gladly read anything this man writes. So, so good!
Oh My Fucking God.
A Vietnam war historical fiction novel, with a broken veteran lost in Bangkok, a vengeful ghost, cosmic horror that infuses a hallucinatory journey that pays homage to Heart of Darkness and Apocalypse Now.
I must have been living in a hole in the ground not to have heard of this book before. What an amazing talent T.E. Grau is! I will gladly read anything this man writes. So, so good!
August 7, 2019
Vietnam bleeds on. This book comes at it from a different angle and shows how many ways a war can fuck you up. Told in a disjointed manner through one suffering PTSD, drug abuse and confusion over loyalties, it tells the tale of this war in all of its glory.
There are several surprises and as I do with every book I review, I tell you about the ending- the ending was good. This is one of the strongest factors in how I judge a book. Does it have a strong ending or does it just peak and peter out until someone stops talking.
From the few true stories I have heard from Vietnam veterans, all that is in this book could have and might have happened. We (American soldiers) were definitely in Laos, but no one would ever admit it. Must have those coordinates wrong - don't you know how to read a map? Now the radio isn't working so there can be no verification or documentation. Damn jungle. The pace and chaos of the story almost makes me want to give up, or just lay down and die, or go crazy. The worst thing about waiting for something is not knowing when it will happen, and if you also don't know what that something is or will be, it just makes it ten times worse. Excellent.
There are several surprises and as I do with every book I review, I tell you about the ending- the ending was good. This is one of the strongest factors in how I judge a book. Does it have a strong ending or does it just peak and peter out until someone stops talking.
From the few true stories I have heard from Vietnam veterans, all that is in this book could have and might have happened. We (American soldiers) were definitely in Laos, but no one would ever admit it. Must have those coordinates wrong - don't you know how to read a map? Now the radio isn't working so there can be no verification or documentation. Damn jungle. The pace and chaos of the story almost makes me want to give up, or just lay down and die, or go crazy. The worst thing about waiting for something is not knowing when it will happen, and if you also don't know what that something is or will be, it just makes it ten times worse. Excellent.
January 28, 2019
Grau never fails to strike awe into his readers and I Am the River is no exception. Skincrawling, muscular, hallucinatory, transcendent and terrifying, on both human and supernatural fronts, this is kind of what he does best, splicing the sweaty, grimy, tragic arc of his deeply troubled and beautifully realised protagonist with the fever-dream horrors almost no one else can evoke with such a sense of psychological and tangible threat. This book is full of oh-my-god moments, right up until that final, breathtaking scene in which the two narrative threads collide. Once again I've gone into overdrive with all these adjectives, but there aren't enough in the world to do Grau's fiction justice.
October 7, 2018
I am the River is a masterfully written tale of the horrors of war and the ghosts that it creates. The journey that you’re taken on is surreal, bleak and unnerving and won’t be forgotten in a hurry. This book undoubtedly ranks among the best of the year and I highly recommend it!
May 21, 2021
DIARIO DE GUERRA Y PESADILLAS
https://dentrodelmonolito.com/2021/05...
Hay que reseñar de inicio que, por mucho conocimiento que tengamos los europeos sobre la guerra de Vietnam, jamás podremos ponernos en lugar de los americanos que la sufrieron (los que allí pelearon y quienes aguardaban su regreso). De lo que causó a nivel físico y mental destruyendo una sociedad. Aquella derrota y todas sus pérdidas, sociales, morales, políticas, estructurales… Pero sí podemos captar ese sufrimiento personal, empático, transferible. Su significado a través de las palabras lesivas que nos está contando el autor. Aunque no tengamos las cicatrices de esa guerra inmunda que nunca debió librarse. Los traumas que trajeron de vuelta, las víctimas, los hermanos y padres e hijos caídos, los que fueron asesinados y los que asesinaron, pues ninguno descansa en paz, y todavía poseen historias que contar, historias de monstruos ciclópeos que habitan en la cara oscura de la mente, que atisbaron en ángulos y esquinas de aquellas selvas, en el resquicio de la mirada del enemigo en ofensiva o suplicante por su hálito, en el fondo de una botella. Incapaces de ser desterrados esos recuerdos que medran, se enraízan, cobran realidad de nuevo…
Vamos saltando primero al presente de la historia, «la pesadilla tangible que trajimos al mundo con nosotros», cuando ya está sufriendo las consecuencias de la subguerra (demoguerra), las secuelas psíquicas, perdido en su infierno laberinto mental, quebradas las fronteras entre la realidad, la fantasía, la pesadilla, el terror, el sueño o la ilusión. Todo se mezcla porque unos ojos, un óculo le persigue; un cancerbero. Y estos capítulos se alternan con el “sobre quién era yo antes dentro y fuera de la guerra”, en el que asistimos a su llegada a la guerra (diferenciado con la primera y tercera persona narrativa cada fragmento), caído en desgracias, trasladado y padeciendo las circunstancias que le llevaron a asomarse a ese abismo de horror que aguarda en la jungla, en el río, bajo la mar. Porque el agua es una constante, cuasi un reloj que da sus propias horas. El agua junto con todas sus propiedades y secretos, la mayoría de los cuales desconocemos. La clave queda en el centro, la tercera de las tramas y a la postre la más importante, «incursión siniestra en Laos», alternando entre estos tres actos que se combinan, salpimientan y aderezan con maestría para acceder nuestra conciencia al todo.
Debemos saber que el miedo puede tomar, asumir, asimilar todas las formas conocidas o imposibles; las cobra allá donde pueda hacer más daño, sin avisar. Y el protagonista casi anhela su final (la liberadora muerte), porque está cayendo, lleva en descenso demasiado tiempo, pero no llega a tocar fondo, siempre hay sima todavía más profunda, dentro de lo etéreo, lo metafísico, lo imaginario, lo incognoscible. ¿Hasta cuándo?
Existe una clave en lo sucedido a Broussard, ¿cómo puedes tener la culpa por ser cobarde, si ser cobarde supone no matar?
La crónica de Broussard, el hombre de la noche, es espeluznante, al alcance de las mejores narraciones de este género (y trascendiendo los géneros). La piel se eriza, las sombras se arremolinan en torno a uno para acompañarnos en la lectura, se escuchan sonidos gargantuescos, un peso opresivo en el pecho que dificulta la respiración. Nos lleva a formar parte de esa mitología con la que nos asustan en cuentos, solo que absolutamente creíble y verosímil, y nos obliga a pensar. Porque T.E. Grau, sabedor que el miedo es personal, nos ofrece una amplia amalgama, desde mansiones encantadas, horrores cósmicos mudos y vacuos, fantasmas del pasado y presente, demonios terrenales, posesiones. Cada cual llega a su propia sugestión, siendo el conjunto sobrecogedor.
Pero el terror trasgrede las leyes de la física, las propiedades de la realidad. Porque el miedo, repetimos, es una percepción individual, insinuada, y no entiende de distancias, ángulos, tiempos, formulas o teorías. Se maneja a su antojo, altera la mente y te trastorna hasta que lo imposible es altamente probable, y aquello que no pudiere existir te anega y devora por completo, llevando al universo contigo, para vestirse con tu cuerpo y espíritu. La diferencia con este miedo es que no se trata de locura, no solo, ya que puede compartirlo Broussard. Amenaza, agrede, invade a otras personas. Se expande. Entonces no hablamos de percepción, sino de algo más. A no ser que la existencia sea solo un pensamiento, un sueño en el cerebro dormido. Que lo estemos imaginando todo, que te imagine a ti, lector, que imagine leer este libro mientras me hallo solo, perdido en el universo de otredad, único. Absolutamente solo…
Los cambios de ritmo e intensidad, capítulos cortos, emociones de soslayo que te llegan segundos después cual bomba de retardo. Y un enigma, la espoleta de la locura, del horror venido de las mismas entrañas de la existencia exterior. Al que vamos llegando poco a poco mientras se disecciona la guerra que, según los ojos de cada cual, la vemos como una pasión, una obligación, un anhelo necesario, un negocio, una justificación, un desahogo, una apuesta… Terrible.
Por otro lado, aparte de la historia lisérgica de Broussard, ese mundo de pesadilla en el que vive y es perseguido y domeñado y cazado, tenemos a la sombra tras las cruzadas, al amo de marionetas, al que tira de los hilos: Chapel. Quien desmenuza la misma concepción de los conflictos bélicos: desposeer, desesperar, sustraer la esperanza desde el núcleo de fe del enemigo. El hombre destinado a encontrar una solución que nadie más ve, porque los soldados y los generales solo saben ganar exterminando la vida a través de sangre y carne. Pero él busca miedo (siempre el miedo); que les teman hoy y por generaciones de generaciones, acabar desde la raíz, accediendo a los más dolorosos lugares, cicatrices permanentes. Ojo con Chapel, un fanático de carisma, y lo que planea en forma y fondo. Pues este Chapel escoge a un grupo de parias, lo peor de lo mejor y lo mejor de lo peor que ha vomitado Vietnam desde Estados Unidos; hombres con alguna cualidad excepcional (aunque sea para el exterminio) que cometieron uno o varios errores imperdonables para su ejército y, cuando son obligados a pagar por ello, Chapel les rescata para empezar otro tipo de guerra. La verdadera, la definitiva. La que desencadenará el seísmo de terror. Uno de esos soldados es Broussard, por supuesto.
¿Qué es peor, cerrar los ojos, o abrirlos una vez que decidiste clausurarlos?
Busca el protagonista la retribución y la redención para salvarse y salvarnos, aunque eso le cueste mucho más que la vida. Porque el equilibrio se rompió, lo rompieron.
Resumiendo, tras este ritual que resulta tan caótico como esos conflictos bélicos y salvajes, inhumanos, pasemos a concretar.
Trama: profunda, dotada de realismo, bien hilada y trenzados sus diferentes tiempos y sub-argumentos, inmersiva cual río negro.
El protagonista: rico en matices, tanto de acto como en el pensamiento donde nos sumergimos.
Los secundarios: ese Chapel, algunos oriundos vietnamitas de origen místico, y el grupo salvaje, aquellos que tiene que cumplir la misión, y que ya los puedo reconocer solo por su voz y forma de hablar. Gran reparto.
La atmósfera: sobresaliente, densa, agresiva, vívida, ominosa, latente y reptando. Capaz de salir del libro y atraparte con sus zarcillos para que tú también formes parte del río.
Y el desenlace, una dulce caída a la más insondable oquedad que te remata meditabundo, rememorando la historia, la que cuenta, y la propia.
T.E. Grau sabe de miedo, de terror, de horror cósmico. Es uno de los nuestros. Y escribe con ese conocimiento sobre lo que nos gusta sufrir, unido a un estilo contundente, rítmico en su arritmia, y, sobre todo, cautivador. Apetece adentrase en su oscuridad. Ya espero la siguiente obra. De obligada lectura este Yo soy el río.
PD: ¿y si la guerra de Vietnam sucedió así? ¿Y si esto fue cuanto ocurrió y la manera en que concluyó?
Pd II: soy muy poco proclive al cine o literatura bélica, excepto por contados ejemplos excepcionales y que van mucho más allá de la guerra. Sabiendo eso, no me ha repelido la obra presente, todo lo contrario. Porque siendo personaje de fondo, la guerra es parte de la historia, pero no la historia en sí misma. Lo comento por si hay quien comparte mis mismos prejuicios. Entrad sin temor… Por ahora…
https://dentrodelmonolito.com/2021/05...
Hay que reseñar de inicio que, por mucho conocimiento que tengamos los europeos sobre la guerra de Vietnam, jamás podremos ponernos en lugar de los americanos que la sufrieron (los que allí pelearon y quienes aguardaban su regreso). De lo que causó a nivel físico y mental destruyendo una sociedad. Aquella derrota y todas sus pérdidas, sociales, morales, políticas, estructurales… Pero sí podemos captar ese sufrimiento personal, empático, transferible. Su significado a través de las palabras lesivas que nos está contando el autor. Aunque no tengamos las cicatrices de esa guerra inmunda que nunca debió librarse. Los traumas que trajeron de vuelta, las víctimas, los hermanos y padres e hijos caídos, los que fueron asesinados y los que asesinaron, pues ninguno descansa en paz, y todavía poseen historias que contar, historias de monstruos ciclópeos que habitan en la cara oscura de la mente, que atisbaron en ángulos y esquinas de aquellas selvas, en el resquicio de la mirada del enemigo en ofensiva o suplicante por su hálito, en el fondo de una botella. Incapaces de ser desterrados esos recuerdos que medran, se enraízan, cobran realidad de nuevo…
Vamos saltando primero al presente de la historia, «la pesadilla tangible que trajimos al mundo con nosotros», cuando ya está sufriendo las consecuencias de la subguerra (demoguerra), las secuelas psíquicas, perdido en su infierno laberinto mental, quebradas las fronteras entre la realidad, la fantasía, la pesadilla, el terror, el sueño o la ilusión. Todo se mezcla porque unos ojos, un óculo le persigue; un cancerbero. Y estos capítulos se alternan con el “sobre quién era yo antes dentro y fuera de la guerra”, en el que asistimos a su llegada a la guerra (diferenciado con la primera y tercera persona narrativa cada fragmento), caído en desgracias, trasladado y padeciendo las circunstancias que le llevaron a asomarse a ese abismo de horror que aguarda en la jungla, en el río, bajo la mar. Porque el agua es una constante, cuasi un reloj que da sus propias horas. El agua junto con todas sus propiedades y secretos, la mayoría de los cuales desconocemos. La clave queda en el centro, la tercera de las tramas y a la postre la más importante, «incursión siniestra en Laos», alternando entre estos tres actos que se combinan, salpimientan y aderezan con maestría para acceder nuestra conciencia al todo.
Debemos saber que el miedo puede tomar, asumir, asimilar todas las formas conocidas o imposibles; las cobra allá donde pueda hacer más daño, sin avisar. Y el protagonista casi anhela su final (la liberadora muerte), porque está cayendo, lleva en descenso demasiado tiempo, pero no llega a tocar fondo, siempre hay sima todavía más profunda, dentro de lo etéreo, lo metafísico, lo imaginario, lo incognoscible. ¿Hasta cuándo?
Existe una clave en lo sucedido a Broussard, ¿cómo puedes tener la culpa por ser cobarde, si ser cobarde supone no matar?
La crónica de Broussard, el hombre de la noche, es espeluznante, al alcance de las mejores narraciones de este género (y trascendiendo los géneros). La piel se eriza, las sombras se arremolinan en torno a uno para acompañarnos en la lectura, se escuchan sonidos gargantuescos, un peso opresivo en el pecho que dificulta la respiración. Nos lleva a formar parte de esa mitología con la que nos asustan en cuentos, solo que absolutamente creíble y verosímil, y nos obliga a pensar. Porque T.E. Grau, sabedor que el miedo es personal, nos ofrece una amplia amalgama, desde mansiones encantadas, horrores cósmicos mudos y vacuos, fantasmas del pasado y presente, demonios terrenales, posesiones. Cada cual llega a su propia sugestión, siendo el conjunto sobrecogedor.
Pero el terror trasgrede las leyes de la física, las propiedades de la realidad. Porque el miedo, repetimos, es una percepción individual, insinuada, y no entiende de distancias, ángulos, tiempos, formulas o teorías. Se maneja a su antojo, altera la mente y te trastorna hasta que lo imposible es altamente probable, y aquello que no pudiere existir te anega y devora por completo, llevando al universo contigo, para vestirse con tu cuerpo y espíritu. La diferencia con este miedo es que no se trata de locura, no solo, ya que puede compartirlo Broussard. Amenaza, agrede, invade a otras personas. Se expande. Entonces no hablamos de percepción, sino de algo más. A no ser que la existencia sea solo un pensamiento, un sueño en el cerebro dormido. Que lo estemos imaginando todo, que te imagine a ti, lector, que imagine leer este libro mientras me hallo solo, perdido en el universo de otredad, único. Absolutamente solo…
Los cambios de ritmo e intensidad, capítulos cortos, emociones de soslayo que te llegan segundos después cual bomba de retardo. Y un enigma, la espoleta de la locura, del horror venido de las mismas entrañas de la existencia exterior. Al que vamos llegando poco a poco mientras se disecciona la guerra que, según los ojos de cada cual, la vemos como una pasión, una obligación, un anhelo necesario, un negocio, una justificación, un desahogo, una apuesta… Terrible.
Por otro lado, aparte de la historia lisérgica de Broussard, ese mundo de pesadilla en el que vive y es perseguido y domeñado y cazado, tenemos a la sombra tras las cruzadas, al amo de marionetas, al que tira de los hilos: Chapel. Quien desmenuza la misma concepción de los conflictos bélicos: desposeer, desesperar, sustraer la esperanza desde el núcleo de fe del enemigo. El hombre destinado a encontrar una solución que nadie más ve, porque los soldados y los generales solo saben ganar exterminando la vida a través de sangre y carne. Pero él busca miedo (siempre el miedo); que les teman hoy y por generaciones de generaciones, acabar desde la raíz, accediendo a los más dolorosos lugares, cicatrices permanentes. Ojo con Chapel, un fanático de carisma, y lo que planea en forma y fondo. Pues este Chapel escoge a un grupo de parias, lo peor de lo mejor y lo mejor de lo peor que ha vomitado Vietnam desde Estados Unidos; hombres con alguna cualidad excepcional (aunque sea para el exterminio) que cometieron uno o varios errores imperdonables para su ejército y, cuando son obligados a pagar por ello, Chapel les rescata para empezar otro tipo de guerra. La verdadera, la definitiva. La que desencadenará el seísmo de terror. Uno de esos soldados es Broussard, por supuesto.
¿Qué es peor, cerrar los ojos, o abrirlos una vez que decidiste clausurarlos?
Busca el protagonista la retribución y la redención para salvarse y salvarnos, aunque eso le cueste mucho más que la vida. Porque el equilibrio se rompió, lo rompieron.
Resumiendo, tras este ritual que resulta tan caótico como esos conflictos bélicos y salvajes, inhumanos, pasemos a concretar.
Trama: profunda, dotada de realismo, bien hilada y trenzados sus diferentes tiempos y sub-argumentos, inmersiva cual río negro.
El protagonista: rico en matices, tanto de acto como en el pensamiento donde nos sumergimos.
Los secundarios: ese Chapel, algunos oriundos vietnamitas de origen místico, y el grupo salvaje, aquellos que tiene que cumplir la misión, y que ya los puedo reconocer solo por su voz y forma de hablar. Gran reparto.
La atmósfera: sobresaliente, densa, agresiva, vívida, ominosa, latente y reptando. Capaz de salir del libro y atraparte con sus zarcillos para que tú también formes parte del río.
Y el desenlace, una dulce caída a la más insondable oquedad que te remata meditabundo, rememorando la historia, la que cuenta, y la propia.
T.E. Grau sabe de miedo, de terror, de horror cósmico. Es uno de los nuestros. Y escribe con ese conocimiento sobre lo que nos gusta sufrir, unido a un estilo contundente, rítmico en su arritmia, y, sobre todo, cautivador. Apetece adentrase en su oscuridad. Ya espero la siguiente obra. De obligada lectura este Yo soy el río.
PD: ¿y si la guerra de Vietnam sucedió así? ¿Y si esto fue cuanto ocurrió y la manera en que concluyó?
Pd II: soy muy poco proclive al cine o literatura bélica, excepto por contados ejemplos excepcionales y que van mucho más allá de la guerra. Sabiendo eso, no me ha repelido la obra presente, todo lo contrario. Porque siendo personaje de fondo, la guerra es parte de la historia, pero no la historia en sí misma. Lo comento por si hay quien comparte mis mismos prejuicios. Entrad sin temor… Por ahora…
June 6, 2021
Uno de esos libros que pueden traúmar al vivir las experiencias de una guerra con algunos toques paranormal. Merece leerse con calma y aviso de que no es para todos los públicos.
February 25, 2018
Very rarely, readers are presented with a work that will not only stand the test of time, but also ingrain itself deeply into our thoughts while forcing us to question the very beliefs and notions we have come to accept as the truth. I Am the River is a breathtaking epic that latches itself to your subconscious, drives its literary fingers into your eye sockets, and plunges your brain into the bottomless depths of insanity. From the opening chapter, the novel teleports the reader into a hallucinogenic nightmare anchored by guilt and paranoia. It would be easy for Grau’s underlining themes of retribution and the political aspects of invasion and slaughter to appear patronizing, but the author stunningly executes his craft as he always has, ensuring the ride through a war-wrought, existential journey is believable and traumatizing. I Am the River isn’t about the Vietnam War, but rather the effects that violence and loss of oneself can have. This wonderfully contrasts with themes of mysticism, spiritual exodus, and the true, terrifying nature of man.
The novel doesn’t shy from the brutality of war, the indistinguishable line between good and evil in uncontrollable moments of violence. Grau ties concrete slabs to his feet as he presses the gas pedal into a kaleidoscopic tunnel of nightmares and mythical imagery. Our protagonist is beautifully fleshed out, until his every word and thought breathes from the page. Broussard is written in the best of ways, his moral ambiguity and broken personality providing a main character who is not only interesting, but incredibly entertaining as well. Grau switches between past and present, first and third person, tactfully guaranteeing that our own sense of disorientation will match that of Broussard’s.
With varying stylistic choices in prose, cliff-hanger filled chapters, and a climax that is certain to produce the most vivid of nightmares, Grau has produced the first great novel of 2018. A masterclass work of art that stretches its reach into multiple themes, encompasses the very nature of war, the chaos that was the Vietnam War, and unifies a work of literature with transcendental, thought-provoking motifs. Dark fiction’s most promising young voice delivers his greatest work yet with I Am the River, asserting his position on a throne of nightmares and literary horror. The way that Grau personifies bedlam and disorder into every line, every paragraph, is mind-boggling and incredible. It would be a disservice to call I Am the River a novel. If anything, the most deserving classification for this work would be that of an experience.
Grau’s implementation of the Vietnam War is metaphorically tied to the dread and heart-wrenching ramifications of our most sinful memories. Broussard’s journey is defined by his guilt, the author’s vivid descriptions and morose prose vilifying horror in a way that is personal, even intimate. With each page, we are thrust into this world, our own grasp on sanity teetering between reality and oblivion. Grau writes like a man who experienced these events firsthand, someone who is merely retelling the atrocities. Poetic and swelling with innovative styles, the language carries itself much like a river rushing downstream. Only this waterfall leads to skeletons instead of rocks. Fire instead of water. Death rather than life.
We have no doubt that I Am the River will join the likes of The Fisherman by John Langan, in regards to its position amongst modern heavyweights. If you haven’t pre-ordered the paperback yet, we strongly advise you to do so. This novel is going to make waves in the horror community and it’s going to cement T.E. Grau as one of the best authors working today.
The novel doesn’t shy from the brutality of war, the indistinguishable line between good and evil in uncontrollable moments of violence. Grau ties concrete slabs to his feet as he presses the gas pedal into a kaleidoscopic tunnel of nightmares and mythical imagery. Our protagonist is beautifully fleshed out, until his every word and thought breathes from the page. Broussard is written in the best of ways, his moral ambiguity and broken personality providing a main character who is not only interesting, but incredibly entertaining as well. Grau switches between past and present, first and third person, tactfully guaranteeing that our own sense of disorientation will match that of Broussard’s.
With varying stylistic choices in prose, cliff-hanger filled chapters, and a climax that is certain to produce the most vivid of nightmares, Grau has produced the first great novel of 2018. A masterclass work of art that stretches its reach into multiple themes, encompasses the very nature of war, the chaos that was the Vietnam War, and unifies a work of literature with transcendental, thought-provoking motifs. Dark fiction’s most promising young voice delivers his greatest work yet with I Am the River, asserting his position on a throne of nightmares and literary horror. The way that Grau personifies bedlam and disorder into every line, every paragraph, is mind-boggling and incredible. It would be a disservice to call I Am the River a novel. If anything, the most deserving classification for this work would be that of an experience.
Grau’s implementation of the Vietnam War is metaphorically tied to the dread and heart-wrenching ramifications of our most sinful memories. Broussard’s journey is defined by his guilt, the author’s vivid descriptions and morose prose vilifying horror in a way that is personal, even intimate. With each page, we are thrust into this world, our own grasp on sanity teetering between reality and oblivion. Grau writes like a man who experienced these events firsthand, someone who is merely retelling the atrocities. Poetic and swelling with innovative styles, the language carries itself much like a river rushing downstream. Only this waterfall leads to skeletons instead of rocks. Fire instead of water. Death rather than life.
We have no doubt that I Am the River will join the likes of The Fisherman by John Langan, in regards to its position amongst modern heavyweights. If you haven’t pre-ordered the paperback yet, we strongly advise you to do so. This novel is going to make waves in the horror community and it’s going to cement T.E. Grau as one of the best authors working today.
July 27, 2022
I guess I’m going with 2.5* rounded down, because mostly I didn’t enjoy this. There were promising elements and ideas, but it was too disjointed and…I don’t know if abstract is quite the right word? For me, reading it was like trying to watch events though that rippled glass they use on shower doors: you can see stuff is happening, but it’s obscured in a way that you’re not getting a clear picture. More precisely, it rarely felt like Grau was giving me enough information — not really painting a picture nor setting the scene — to really draw me in, to make me feel connected, invested. Plus, and this is just more salt in the wound than anything, there were a number of typographical errors and formatting issues.
I dunno — it’s late, I’m tired, and my thinkbox no works too goodly. Suffice it to say, I don’t recommend this one.
I dunno — it’s late, I’m tired, and my thinkbox no works too goodly. Suffice it to say, I don’t recommend this one.
October 11, 2021
Raw, Psychodelic, and friggin' awesome!
I've read this twice today. Firstly because It was a bit hard to get my head around. Secondly, because it was F'ing epic!
Hard to categorize really. Heart of darkness meets platoon, or somewhere in the middle. Weird, psychedelic and dark. A journey into madness, and the horrors of war. The ghosts of the past that never leave you, no matter where you run to.
This one hit me hard, as I spent a decade in Thailand. I've walked those streets a million times, and I can tell you that Grau has done a lot of research. I've been to Laos 3 or 4 times, once on my honeymoon. It's a very quiet place. You can walk around the capital -Vientiane- in a few hours. Beautiful Country.
Outstanding book T.E. Grau! More of this, please!
I've read this twice today. Firstly because It was a bit hard to get my head around. Secondly, because it was F'ing epic!
Hard to categorize really. Heart of darkness meets platoon, or somewhere in the middle. Weird, psychedelic and dark. A journey into madness, and the horrors of war. The ghosts of the past that never leave you, no matter where you run to.
This one hit me hard, as I spent a decade in Thailand. I've walked those streets a million times, and I can tell you that Grau has done a lot of research. I've been to Laos 3 or 4 times, once on my honeymoon. It's a very quiet place. You can walk around the capital -Vientiane- in a few hours. Beautiful Country.
Outstanding book T.E. Grau! More of this, please!
November 18, 2019
Having devoured this within a day and a half during a sick leave, I was really taken aback that it is only now that I discovered T.E. Grau... Such a talented author!
“I Am the River” is a beautifully written ghost/redemption story of the unusual sort that uses the “Vietnam as an experience of brokenness/madness/paranoia” trope to its full extent to create a shattering atmosphere, mixing it with elements of Asian and some lovecraftian horror.
And Grau really has a way with words! It is sentences like “The back of the man’s neck looked like a giant thumb with the nail pulled out at the neck” or “My lungs unfold and my arms and my legs come back to me while my brain waits and my heart remembers its rhythm” that made me smile even while reading a story of such devastation. The fever dreamy descriptions of madness that dominate mainly the first chapters of the book are wonderful and spot on (and I personally wish there were more of them), although they decrease throughout the book and the plot seems to take the overhand, gradually changing the pacing.
I think that fans of ghost stories, war horror, Asian horror, literary horror, cosmic horror (I just realized that that encompasses pretty much all horror fans) will enjoy this book and I certainly know that I will be reading a lot more Grau in the future!
“I Am the River” is a beautifully written ghost/redemption story of the unusual sort that uses the “Vietnam as an experience of brokenness/madness/paranoia” trope to its full extent to create a shattering atmosphere, mixing it with elements of Asian and some lovecraftian horror.
And Grau really has a way with words! It is sentences like “The back of the man’s neck looked like a giant thumb with the nail pulled out at the neck” or “My lungs unfold and my arms and my legs come back to me while my brain waits and my heart remembers its rhythm” that made me smile even while reading a story of such devastation. The fever dreamy descriptions of madness that dominate mainly the first chapters of the book are wonderful and spot on (and I personally wish there were more of them), although they decrease throughout the book and the plot seems to take the overhand, gradually changing the pacing.
I think that fans of ghost stories, war horror, Asian horror, literary horror, cosmic horror (I just realized that that encompasses pretty much all horror fans) will enjoy this book and I certainly know that I will be reading a lot more Grau in the future!
November 19, 2020
YES! This novel absolutely blew me away. Twisted, poetic, wartime horror with heart. Grau expertly toes the line between abstract weirdness and a grounded, character-driven story. More than anything, it felt incredibly fresh. I read tons of horror, and while I enjoy seeing new uses of old tropes, nothing excites me more than reading something that feels like nothing I've ever read before.
In his This is Horror interview, Grau talked about how nothing is truly original, and he only hopes to take old ideas and present them in a new, personal way. I respect that idea, but this really did feel unique to me. Obvious influence like Jacob's Ladder and Apocalypse now can be seen, but this book stands entirely on its own legs. Highly, highly recommended.
In his This is Horror interview, Grau talked about how nothing is truly original, and he only hopes to take old ideas and present them in a new, personal way. I respect that idea, but this really did feel unique to me. Obvious influence like Jacob's Ladder and Apocalypse now can be seen, but this book stands entirely on its own legs. Highly, highly recommended.
May 4, 2021
2 días me ha durado el descenso por el río que propone T. E. Grau, con la ya clásica buena edición de Dilatando Mentes.
Un descenso al infierno de la guerra de Vietnam, lleno de folklore, antibelicismo y horror cósmico.
Grau juega con los tiempos narrativos, con la cordura del protagonista y del propio lector.
Imprescindible, si os gusta el terror (bueno... y si no, también).
Novelón.
Un descenso al infierno de la guerra de Vietnam, lleno de folklore, antibelicismo y horror cósmico.
Grau juega con los tiempos narrativos, con la cordura del protagonista y del propio lector.
Imprescindible, si os gusta el terror (bueno... y si no, también).
Novelón.
December 8, 2021
Ah tengo pocas palabras para describir todo el viaje que pasa el protagonista para llegar a ese bello final.
Una de las cosas que me gustaría mencionar es que para tener un visión atmosférica de la trama es buena idea ver Apocalypse Now y la Escalera de Jacob, igual maravillosas peliculas que complementan perfecto a esta maravillosa obra de horror.
Una de las cosas que me gustaría mencionar es que para tener un visión atmosférica de la trama es buena idea ver Apocalypse Now y la Escalera de Jacob, igual maravillosas peliculas que complementan perfecto a esta maravillosa obra de horror.
February 15, 2019
Akira Kurosawa wrote and directed Seven Samurai as an homage—filtered through Japanese cultural screens (literal and figurative)—to the American Western. Yul Brynner turned around and got the ball rolling on The Magnificent Seven, adapting a Western-inspired samurai movie into... a Western. 'Round and 'round we go.
I am the River strikes me as another of these exquisite ouroboric exercises, with Heart of Darkness and Apocalypse Now as its closest past incarnations. And, with each rebirth, scales and skin are shed, new patterns emerge, but that dark, solitary heart remains the same. Because there is a beautiful and terrible loneliness to this book. It unravels a powerful myth, revealing the thin—even disappearing—line between independence and isolation that is at the core of the American experience. The characters here are desperately alone, even as they are haunted and chased by their pasts. So much so that it invites the question: Are our only true companions our enemies?
This book richly deserves the enthusiastic praise it has received. It is a breathtaking novel.
March 23, 2019
This is a post-Vietnam War novel from an author I have already come to greatly appreciate. It is hard to explain in great detail without giving too much away but there are shades of Jacob's Ladder as well as a certain real U.S. government war time project that you figure out for yourself if, like me, you had prior knowledge of it before getting to this book. Very adept stylistic handling of both tone and an unconventional narrative structure.
Now, permit me to fire up the 'tubes and listen to some Murray Head's 'One Night in Bangkok' to complete the trifecta of whaling and gnashing of teeth.
Now, permit me to fire up the 'tubes and listen to some Murray Head's 'One Night in Bangkok' to complete the trifecta of whaling and gnashing of teeth.
September 20, 2018
A novel that is at once a hallucinatory romp through the jungles of Laos and the dirty squalid streets of Bangkok, and an uncompromising dagger into the heart of darkness, this compelling novel pulls you in slowly, then kicks into high gear. The characterizations and dialogue are handled deftly and confidently, as are the switches in narrative point of view between first person and third person. Grau is one of the most talented craftsmen of fiction around today, and deserves a much wider audience.
January 24, 2020
Absolutely excellent. I’m a literary fiction snob, and am always a bit ashamed and let down by my occult/eldritch horror craving. Hooked on Lovecraft and the Mythos, I’m mostly disappointed by the authors and books attempting to carry the HPL torch. TE Grau though... wow. This guy can write! This is straight-up art wrapped in a genre veil. I’m hooked and will eagerly await his future books.
October 5, 2019
Blurbed as "Algernon Blackwood writing 'Apocalypse Now'". Rather glib, but it does nail the book dead-on. People expecting ghosts and hungry demons will be disappointed, as the horror is more abstract, but it's worth a read. Will be looking for more of Grau's work.
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