Midterm Feedback

"I have made better grades on my R.A.s progressively, but I still wonder if my writing has actually improved. In some cases, I have just provided better arguements or evidence to back up my statements and this seemed to do the trick." And this isn't getting better as a writer? Puh-lease. The art of writing, like Vietnam, is complex, which is what makes it an art rather than a skill. It therefore has all sorts of moving parts; to think that writing is all about style or all about argument or all about grammar would only be capturing a partial truth. Getting better at focusing on the argument is an integral part of becoming a better writer--the style will follow the more you write and the more you get comfortable with your own voice.

With regard to your class participation, you are indeed King Severin and class would poorer if you weren't there. This is high praise. Your blogs are also to be praised because you respond to all sorts of varied impulses and texts, like the NYTimes video on the consequences of napalm generations later, and your engagement with Tim O'Brien using your own truths. You have adventure in your blood and a curious intellect that will only get sharper. I like everything I see, young man.

Final project: with regard to the childhood angle, maybe the memoir Falling Through the Earth might be of interest.

Another casualty of the Vietnam War, Danielle Trussoni has told her story in Falling Through the Earth with bravado, pride, sadness, and candor. Her father, Daniel, served as a tunnel rat, one of the incredibly brave men who went into the webs of tunnels and rooms searching for Vietnamese guerillas hiding out underground. The heat and stench, the courage combined with fear, the claustrophobic confinement, and the incessant tension are recounted with an immediacy that only one who has been there, or knows someone who has, could tell. In fact, Danielle Trussoni went to Vietnam and was guided through the tunnels, trying to follow, literally, in her father's footsteps.
The Trussoni family of Onalaska, Wisconsin, is famous for bar fights and not much else. Daniel is a thug like his brothers, all of whom pride themselves on being tough guys who might just be mobbed up, although there is no proof of that.

Trussoni Thanksgivings were like boxing matches. There was sure to be a rumble on the front lawn of my grandparents' house and a rematch at the tavern down the street... A little blood before dinner was what aperitifs were to other families.
In this atmosphere, Danielle, her sister Kelly, and her brother Matt are trying to raise themselves, or just stay out of the way. After getting a job and some sense of self, Mom takes on a boyfriend and asks Dad to leave. According to Danielle, Dad is pretty broken up about the departure, so she goes to live with him and is treated to a steady round of women callers. The other two children stay with their Mom. Most evenings, Daniel takes Danielle to Roscoe's, the neighborhood tavern, where she sits and watches him get drunk and tell his Vietnam stories. Over and over again. Every so often, he forgets her and she has to make her own way home.

Danielle is endlessly forgiving of this case-hardened vet who is relentlessly mean, paranoid and petty. He is a prototype of the guy who came home and didn't know why he was a survivor. Trussoni has captured the essence of being in bloody battle one day and home the next, and then trying to make sense of it all.

Alternating chapters tell of her father's time in Vietnam, her own journey there, and their messy lives--starting with the divorce and continuing until her adulthood. Family secrets are revealed; Danielle realizes that her mother was not the only person at fault in the breakup of the marriage and that her defense of her father was not always appropriate.