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About the Book
Echoes From The Infantry is the tale of one Long Island World War II veteran, the misery of combat, and the powerful emotional bonds that brought him home to Rockaway Beach and the love of his life, Madeline Brandt. It is about a father and son, and their ultimately redeeming struggle to understand each other's worlds - one a world at war, the other shaped by its veterans. Nappi moves artfully between the present and past, weaving a fictionalized tale of this Long Islander's struggle to reconcile with the demons from long ago and his family's neverending battle with many of the intangible burdens caused by the private life of a man they never really knew. He touches our hearts with a story of courage and perseverance...a story of men who faced the greatest challenge of their generation.
Author Interview
1. Who is your favorite character?
James McCleary
2. Why is he/she your favorite?
James McCleary is my favorite for the simple reason that he embodies all of the qualities of so many of the veterans with whom I became so close. Like these very brave men who for the most part remained misunderstood for so many years, he is an enigma to most around him, for he remains imprisoned in his own world, mired in a quagmire of memories from the battlefield. Consequently, he is a complex character, one who struggles with reconciling his past with his present situation. The essence of the struggle makes him sympathetic to readers and a compelling study in human behavior.
3. How did you come to create him/her?
James was conceived during my many conversations with two very special WWII veterans, Mr. Bill McGinn and Mr. Eddie Hynes. Listening to their poignant reminiscences of war torn Europe and their post war plight was truly captivating. I knew that I had the makings of a very heartfelt drama the minute I met each one of these incredible men.
4. When did he/she first enter your mind?
As part of an enrichment activity in my United States History/American Literature Integrated course, I asked two WWII veterans to come in and speak to my students about the war and the era of the 1940s. I watched and listened as these two amazing individuals captivated these young folks with their poignant tales of combat and of life for them once the final shot was fired. It was then that I knew I had to explore this idea further.
5. Where was he/she given life in the creative process?
Life began instantly for James McCleary. Because I was so invested in the men on whom the character is based, this fictitious man was imbued with a vitality from the very beginning. He is a living, breathing emblem of so many of the men who fought so courageously overseas and came home to a world that no longer knew them.
6. What do like the most about him/her and what do you dislike the most about him/her?
I love the multi-faceted nature of James McCleary. He is deeply complex and speaks so powerfully to readers. He is, as I said, alarmingly real. Not so sure I dislike anything about him -- all of his faults post-war can be attributed to the war and the ghastly experiences in which he was forced to engage. He's not perfect by a long shot, but I believe readers will see, as does his son eventually, that this man was a good soul who was a casualty of the war despite surviving.
Excerpt
Madeline came home to find James on the couch. She set her bags down and kissed his cheek. He was unavailable. He reminded her somehow of those German cities in ruin: not functioning and only remotely hopeful for a future. “My goodness, the stores were mobbed,” she said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” He barely acknowledged her arrival. He was lost in the familiar practice of stuffing those goddamned socks under his arm. Those socks. How she hated those socks. More than anything. More than the way he sat in the living room of their home in the evenings, staring vacantly out the window into the darkness; more than the way he jumped to attention each time an airplane passed overhead or a car door slammed. Those socks. He had them squirreled away in every room. There were enough pairs to outfit all the New York Yankees.
They were more disconcerting than the way he ground his teeth while he slept or the way his mind drifted during moments such as these. She had tried. From the moment he came back to Rockaway, she tried to guide him gently toward his new life. She prepared all of his favorite meals. She made certain that the house was always warm. Fresh flowers adorned the tables in each room, and the soothing tones of classical piano insulated their home from the harsh sounds of the street, which always seemed to bring him back to the front line.
“Jimmy!” she admonished him. “Did you hear a word I just said?” Her arms were folded. The tapping of her foot on the oak floor echoed like a drumroll. “Yeah, yeah, Maddie. I heard you.” He pulled his hand out from under his shirt. His gaze was still off in the other direction. “Look, Jimmy. This has gone on long enough,” she said. “It’s time to live again. Time to be a husband again. Jimmy, please. Put those damn socks away.” They were the most difficult words she had ever spoken. She labored for weeks over how and when and even if she should. He was unpredictable and at times volatile, particularly when she questioned the reason behind what he was doing. This fear had held her voice captive. Until now. When she heard the words leave her lips, she was surprised, almost as if they were uttered by someone else.
“What did you say?” he responded, cutting her down with his icy stare. “Why would you ask me that?” She cowered in front of him like a frightened child. She did not answer. Why had she said anything? She should have kept her mouth closed, left him to his thoughts. Now she was reeling, and with nothing else to say, her silence enraged him. He grabbed her by the wrists and shook her violently, muttering something about soldiers and shell holes and Bastogne in the winter. She started to cry. He released her abruptly and stormed upstairs, leaving her crumpled on the floor.
She had bundled up his uniforms and his pack, buried them in his footlocker and tucked it all away neatly in a corner of the attic. She had hidden his souvenir weapons and photographs as well. Even the decorations he had received were placed out of his reach, in the back of her jewelry box. She thought she had covered everything, separated him from the world that still haunted him. But she had forgotten something. She sat on the floor, feeling stupid and childish. Dusk had crept through the window and there she sat, crying, wiping her eyes on her shirt sleeves. She did not want to feel this way. It was worse than any confrontation with James could ever be. She lifted herself off the floor, grabbed a bag, and gathered every last pair of socks he had, leaving only the ones under his armpit and on his feet.
She found him upstairs, sitting in the shadows of their bedroom, his head resting in the palms of his hands. “Jimmy,” she whispered. “I don’t know exactly why you are still carrying those socks. I’m sure you have a good reason. But you’re home now. You don’t need them, sweetheart.” She ran her hand gently across her protruding belly. There wasn’t going to be room for an extra pair of socks in the life Maddie had planned for herself and for her family. There were things now more important than socks, something inside of her, a new life, full of hope and promise. He needed to understand that. “Let me have them, Jimmy. Please. I want them.”
He rose slowly but said nothing. He slid his hands around her waist and locked them behind her back. Then he started to crumble. “I’m sorry, Maddie. I’m sorry. But I can’t. I can’t do it,” he said, choking on every word. “I can’t do it, Maddie.”
……she was right. Everything would be great. He could do this. Husband. Father. Plenty of guys did it. Why not him? He turned to her and opened his eyes. Her face was just a silhouette, glinting in the sheen of the moonlight. He pressed his mouth against hers. It was great. Everything would be great, he thought, if he could find a way to just forget.
They were more disconcerting than the way he ground his teeth while he slept or the way his mind drifted during moments such as these. She had tried. From the moment he came back to Rockaway, she tried to guide him gently toward his new life. She prepared all of his favorite meals. She made certain that the house was always warm. Fresh flowers adorned the tables in each room, and the soothing tones of classical piano insulated their home from the harsh sounds of the street, which always seemed to bring him back to the front line.
“Jimmy!” she admonished him. “Did you hear a word I just said?” Her arms were folded. The tapping of her foot on the oak floor echoed like a drumroll. “Yeah, yeah, Maddie. I heard you.” He pulled his hand out from under his shirt. His gaze was still off in the other direction. “Look, Jimmy. This has gone on long enough,” she said. “It’s time to live again. Time to be a husband again. Jimmy, please. Put those damn socks away.” They were the most difficult words she had ever spoken. She labored for weeks over how and when and even if she should. He was unpredictable and at times volatile, particularly when she questioned the reason behind what he was doing. This fear had held her voice captive. Until now. When she heard the words leave her lips, she was surprised, almost as if they were uttered by someone else.
“What did you say?” he responded, cutting her down with his icy stare. “Why would you ask me that?” She cowered in front of him like a frightened child. She did not answer. Why had she said anything? She should have kept her mouth closed, left him to his thoughts. Now she was reeling, and with nothing else to say, her silence enraged him. He grabbed her by the wrists and shook her violently, muttering something about soldiers and shell holes and Bastogne in the winter. She started to cry. He released her abruptly and stormed upstairs, leaving her crumpled on the floor.
She had bundled up his uniforms and his pack, buried them in his footlocker and tucked it all away neatly in a corner of the attic. She had hidden his souvenir weapons and photographs as well. Even the decorations he had received were placed out of his reach, in the back of her jewelry box. She thought she had covered everything, separated him from the world that still haunted him. But she had forgotten something. She sat on the floor, feeling stupid and childish. Dusk had crept through the window and there she sat, crying, wiping her eyes on her shirt sleeves. She did not want to feel this way. It was worse than any confrontation with James could ever be. She lifted herself off the floor, grabbed a bag, and gathered every last pair of socks he had, leaving only the ones under his armpit and on his feet.
She found him upstairs, sitting in the shadows of their bedroom, his head resting in the palms of his hands. “Jimmy,” she whispered. “I don’t know exactly why you are still carrying those socks. I’m sure you have a good reason. But you’re home now. You don’t need them, sweetheart.” She ran her hand gently across her protruding belly. There wasn’t going to be room for an extra pair of socks in the life Maddie had planned for herself and for her family. There were things now more important than socks, something inside of her, a new life, full of hope and promise. He needed to understand that. “Let me have them, Jimmy. Please. I want them.”
He rose slowly but said nothing. He slid his hands around her waist and locked them behind her back. Then he started to crumble. “I’m sorry, Maddie. I’m sorry. But I can’t. I can’t do it,” he said, choking on every word. “I can’t do it, Maddie.”
……she was right. Everything would be great. He could do this. Husband. Father. Plenty of guys did it. Why not him? He turned to her and opened his eyes. Her face was just a silhouette, glinting in the sheen of the moonlight. He pressed his mouth against hers. It was great. Everything would be great, he thought, if he could find a way to just forget.
***
Echoes from the Infantry can be purchased at:
Kindle
Price: $3.99
Pages: 256
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Release: October 13, 2005
About the AuthorFrank Nappi has taught high school English and Creative Writing for over twenty years. His debut novel, Echoes From The Infantry, received national attention, including MWSA's silver medal for outstanding fiction. His follow-up novel, The Legend of Mickey Tussler, garnered rave reviews as well, including a movie adaptation of the touching story "A Mile in His Shoes" starring Dean Cain and Luke Schroder. Frank continues to produce quality work, including Sophomore Campaign, the intriguing sequel to the much heralded original story and the just released thriller, Nobody Has to Know, which received an endorsement from #1 New York Times bestselling author Nelson DeMille. Frank is presently at work on a third installment of his Mickey Tussler series and his next thriller. He lives on Long Island with his wife Julia and their two sons, Nicholas and Anthony.
Connect with Frank:
Web Site
Blog
Goodreads
YouTube
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About the Giveaway:
Leave a comment with your email address to win an ebook of Echoes from the Infantry. Ends 2/28/13.
Connie, thanks for hosting such an amazing interview with Frank. I didn't care for James while I was reading the book, but I can form a deeper appreciation for him after perusing what Frank had to say about him. Getting the author's feedback is such a gift.
ReplyDeleteI agree about author's feedback. It can shed light on issues.
ReplyDeleteECHOES FROM THE INFANTRY does look interesting.
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