Another book I had set aside last June was David Griffith's A Good War Is Hard To Find. Kind of silly of me because it is a very quick read but I did not want to face Abu Ghraib in the sunshine.

Griffith's book is a longish essay on the uses of photographic images in relation to war, specifically the photos from Abu Ghraib. The affront he feels for those photos and what they represent is a theme throughout the 181 page book. Along the way he explores images of Hiroshima, lynchings in the South, the first Gulf War and the current war in Iraq. Griffith also references literature and its use in shaping the American psyche. Here is where I love having my own extremely huge library so I can step over to my shelves and refresh my memory with Flannery O'Connor, Susan Sontag, Faulkner and Eudora Welty.

Central to Griffith's search for the use of photography on America's self image, he recounts several instances when he sought to find some outrage in others viewing the photos from Abu Ghraib. One of the most telling anecdotes is of the students he invites to view the photos in a slide show and discussion at an art gallery. Afterward when queried "'Do you think that violent images just don't have the same effect on your generation?' A leading question, I know, but I needed to hear someone actually say it. A voice from the back of the group said, 'I've seen worse at the movies.'" And Griffith also analyzes American's obsession with violent entertainment. Face it, we do have one. In my conversations with Europeans that is a question which frequently arises. Why is so much of our entertainment extremely violent?

As a discourse on America and how we perceive ourselves this is an interesting work. As a self described Christian nation we have and continue to behave antithetically from the decimation of the native Americans we found here to the horrors of slavery and racism and now to the lunatic invasion of a country by a leader who gets his marching orders from god. It seems the more evil our own behavior the louder the shouts of the religious right in this country. I do not feel Griffith's personal Christian interpretations help in understanding this problem and that is the sole criticism I would have of this book. I think we have reached a period in human history where we need to take a deep, objective look at what religious belief is doing to us as a species.

Griffith ends the book by recounting his discovery of a statue of Commodore Perry in a public park in Erie, PA. "The inscription dedicated the monument to all the Pennsylvanians who built the ships, fought on them and died on them. Beneath this was a quote from Perry. It read: 'We have met the enemy and they are ours.' . . . . . . Except someone had crossed out 'ours' with a black crayon or perhaps a piece of charcoal and written just below the chiseled word: 'Us.'"

The photos in the book are not for the squeamish but you probably have seen all but two of them before. And that is part of the lesson.

From Time Out Chicago (5 out of 6 stars):

Drawing from a variety of inspirations—including works by Susan Sontag, Andy Warhol, David Lynch, Chingy and the textile art of women in war-torn countries—this slender volume takes a look at brutality in American art, exploring the ways it shapes our attitudes toward a violent world.

The Abu Ghraib torture photos are a constant reference point in the book, and Griffith is just as curious about the public reaction to the images as he is about his own. His style and approach occasionally make the work read like a blog (“I’m standing under a streetlamp at the end of my street dressed as Captain James T. Kirk”), but the sensation consistently fades as Griffith finds new ways of getting to the marrow of a dizzying number of films, writings and life experiences.

Discussing The Exorcist, he writes: “The images of the little innocent girl writhing in pain… are truly grotesque images because they connect us with a point in the distance. [The Exorcist is] about a culture whose faith has been bred out of it—like chickens whose wings have been bred off, O’Connor famously said.”

Asking key questions about the state of our country’s faith and humanity without the crutch of an agenda, this book is a massively forceful piece of criticism.