Stephen Dau has written a most enig­matic and sat­is­fying novel that delivers a story of loss as pub­licly broad as it is per­sonally intimate. The Book of Jonas paints a haunting picture of the dev­as­tation wrought by the relentless war on ter­rorism. It is the story of an American soldier, Christopher, a young Muslim boy, Younis, and Christopher’s mother, Rose.

Younis lives in a village located in an uniden­tified Muslim country. Christopher is a young U.S. Marine whose platoon has gathered near this village. Inten­tionally or mis­takenly, the village is attacked and oblit­erated by the Marines. Younis is wounded and his family is killed, as are most of the vil­lagers. Dau’s subject is not only war itself, but all it’s accom­panied losses. We feel Younis’ loss of family and place, Christopher’s loss of honor and integrity for his part in the attack, and Rose, the mother who struggles to make sense of her son’s death with only pho­tographs to grieve over.

Fleeing his destroyed village, Younis hides in a cave in the nearby moun­tains. He is not alone. In the same mountain cave is a young dis­il­lu­sioned Marine, fleeing the same scene. Younis, barely alive, is cared for by Christopher until the boy can leave the cave and reach a Quaker relief orga­ni­zation. From there he is flown to the U.S. where he is treated for his injuries and placed with an American family to begin a new life. Christopher cannot be saved and when news of his death reaches his mother  in Philadelphia, the mil­itary has no expla­nation as to how or exactly where he died. Rose, too, must find her way out of a dif­ferent sort of cave.

The Book of Jonas draws upon Bib­lical tra­dition and the comfort of reli­gious ritual. It is divided not into the three stories of its three central char­acters, but into Pro­ces­sional, Invo­cation, Remem­brance, Com­munion, Con­fession, Atonement, Bene­diction and finally Reces­sional. In an echo of “In the beginning was the Word,” Stephen Dau begins with the Pro­ces­sional and the many words of the vil­lagers as they ponder the meaning of planes flying overhead. Within The Book of Jonas is a second book, a diary of sorts; a gift given to Christopher by his mother before he enlists and in which he writes his thoughts as he tries to make sense of the actions taken by himself and his fellow Marines. It also holds the key to the cir­cum­stances of his death.

The moving power of The Book of Jonas (a mere 256 pages) is the author’s ability to never lose the thread woven between Jonas (Younis’ American name), Christopher, and Rose. Their stories move backward and forward, but never distant from one another. One character’s loss never dom­i­nates the other’s, instead these losses serve to illu­minate and enlighten. Each section of the book is divided into brief chapters, often no longer than a para­graph, all with a brevity of style and lan­guage that moves the nar­rative to its fateful, solemn and ulti­mately hopeful end.

The Book of Jonas is a gem and star­tling in its bril­liance. This unflinch­ingly honest and even-​​handed telling of the dev­as­tation of war will not easily be for­gotten. I look forward to whatever Dau writes next. –s.s.

 

Buy The Book of Jonas locally or look online at Amazon​.com, Powell’s Books, or through an IndieBound book­store.

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