Saboteur, by Dean Hughes
“Do you know what sabotage is?” Simone asked. “Sabot is the name for the shoes we wear out here on the farm–wooden shoes like the ones you two are wearing. During strikes, workers tossed them into the machinery as a way to shut down factories that weren’t fair to them. It took courage to do such a thing, but it was the right thing to do” (p. 178).
In Saboteur, by Dean Hughes, we meet Andy Gledhill, a young Latter-day Saint man serving his country in the second World War who is assigned to the OSS, America’s fledgling military espionage devision, where he is trained as a spy, saboteur, and assasin. Such a juxtaposition makes for a fascinating study which plays out compellingly through the novel, as Andy struggles to reconcile the Lord’s commandment to love with the atrocities which he finds himself both facing and committing behind enemy lines in France.
Framing his efforts, we have the various trials and struggles of his family and girlfriend back home which unfold every bit as compellingly as the events of the war. Hughes does not just tell us that Andy is a Latter-day Saint, he paints for us a very vivid picture of who he was before the war through the experiences and words of his family while he is gone. We ache in sympathy with his girlfriend, Whisper, who does not know if Andy will still be hers at the war’s end. We fret along with his mother, who fears that he will not come home at all. We grow with his brother Flip, as he sheds his own innocence and comes of age in a world awry with racism and fear.
As Lieutenant Gledhill’s assignment overseas progresses and the life and belief that he knew before the war grow to seem evermore distant and foreign, Andy begins to question not only his faith, but his own identity:
Andy tried to pray sometimes, but he couldn’t feel anything that verified the things he had thought he believed. He hadn’t become an atheist. That was a belief, and he couldn’t muster anything that assertive. He hadn’t exactly given up on the idea of a life after death; he merely couldn’t feel it. He lived with a constant state of nothingness, and it was hard to imagine that anything else was ahead for him (p. 216).
The struggle for Andy is long, and viscerally real to the reader, but in the end Saboteur is a story of redemption. Through the very real fires of affliction fueled by war, love is redeemed, faith is reclaimed, and lives are enriched. Though he is forever changed by the war, Andy does find himself again:
On that day in Tarascon, Andy had wanted to be himself again, the boy he remembered. He had found a quiet place on the edge of town where he had knelt down and prayed. He had tried to pray in the hospital, but this was his first chance to say out loud the things that were on his mind. He told the Lord that he had done his best to save those lives, that he felt good about that, and then he asked the Lord to heal him, to let him believe in goodness (p. 443).
It should be mentioned that there are several scenes in the book that involve somewhat graphic, though not gratuitous, descriptions of violent acts. Hughes is careful to avoid glorifying war, soldiering, or killing, but those things are a part of wartime, and are present in the book.
For those whose sensibilities will allow it to be, it is a desperately addictive read–a real page-turner in the truest sense of the expression.
Saboteur, by Dean Hughes, published by Deseret Book.
Cover image © Deseret Book. Used with permission.
October 24th, 2006 04:06
Thanks for this thoughtful review, Naiah. Sometimes it’s hard to tell from a review whether or not one is likely to enjoy the book, because of our differing levels of sensitivity to subject matter, language, etc.
“Sensibilities” do indeed differ quite widely, even among active, committed LDS; and yet reviews don’t always treat that very real issue.
In the case of Saboteur, some readers might automatically reject it if they saw the cover, or if they knew it dealt extensively with men at war. Others (like me) will be intrigued, but want to know how the subject matter is treated. Thanks to your review, I have decided to buy it. I look forward to an entertaining read that is also ultimately inspiring.
October 24th, 2006 11:28
RoAnn,
I have to say that at first I, myself, was guilty of having judged this book by its cover. I’ve never been one for war stories. I’m not sure exactly how or why I got over my initial prejudice, but I have to say that I am glad that I did. So glad, in fact, that I’m planning to check out Dean Hughes’s other works. (The word prolific does not begin to cover it–he’s published over 80 books!!!) His characters have such heart, his treatment of social complexities is mature, and the book as a whole was definitely enriching–good fun and good food for thought.
I did not realize it until writing this review, but he is the one who wrote the ‘Children of the Promise’ series. I plan to get those on my queue, now.
As for sensibilities, I counted approximately half a dozen scenes in the book wherein some violent act takes place. That’s out of 472 pages. Hughes plays them very well, approaching the narrative as base factually as he would a man simply walking across the room. He gives them no more words than he needs for them to play their part in the story. He is neither sensationalistic, nor emotionally manipulative as authors too often are in the context of violence in their stories.
October 24th, 2006 11:55
Naiah,
You have definitely sparked my interest! Thanks for this review. I, too, appreciate that you were up front about what might be sensitive for some readers.