A sense of ‘Detachment’
By: Dr. Joan Ruddiman
Tracy Kidder has been the topic of several Book Notes columns over the years. Fortunate for all those who have discovered this talented writer, his first book "Soul of the Machine" won a Pulitzer. Had it not, Kidder may never have found a publisher for the books that followed.
"House," "Among Schoolchildren," "Old Friends" and "Home Town" comprise a body of work that can be classified best as "Kidder’s style." Essentially, Kidder writes about topics that intrigue him. The word that comes to mind to describe the body of his interests is "quirky."
He followed how a house is designed and built. He wondered about the nature of the lives of kids and a teacher in a classroom. He experienced the daily rhythms of a nursing home through the lives of two men who by chance were roomed together. He explored the workings of a town with the town cop and several of its more colorful characters.
Kidder invests a period of time often more than a year collecting information, which is not unusual for a documentary-type piece. However, Kidder’s unique style of gathering data is to observe just observe. Whereas a writer like Barbara Ehrenreich ("Nickel and Dimed") immerses herself in the experiences of her subjects and then reflects on her own understanding of what these people think and feel, Kidder is what psychologists call the "non-participatory observer."
His books capture the flow of people’s lives, without his comments or commentary. The effect is riveting. In an age where news is too often mixed with personal comment and "analytic" commentary, Kidder lets his readers immerse themselves into a world unlike their own. Even better, he allows readers to discover the commonalities they share with contractors, teachers, the aged and other communities. The quirky becomes familiar, and warmly comfortable.
Several years ago, Kidder departed a bit some his classic Kidder style with the highly acclaimed "Mountains Beyond Mountains" that shares the story of Dr. Paul Farmer of Haiti and Harvard. Farmer so challenged Kidder intellectually, emotionally and physically that Kidder allowed himself to become part of the story. For the first time, readers heard Kidder in the story. Indeed, Kidder has become part of Farmer’s ongoing story.
Perhaps this stylistic shift, perhaps the comfort that comes with age encouraged Kidder to work in the genre of memoir. An advanced review of "My Detachment" caught my attention. First, here’s a new book by Tracy Kidder; it is worth reading because of that alone. Then, it was a memoir. How would he use his famously elusive voice in a book about himself?
But it was the title that most intrigued. This is a Vietnam memoir as Kidder writes, literally, about the detachment of men he led as a young lieutenant. But was there something more? Could Kidder more figuratively detach himself from the story, from the Vietnam years to work the Kidder "detached" style into a memoir?
The answers are more complex than the questions.
Kidder fans will be pleased. His style is intact, except that the long, objective lens that he so carefully trained on others is now on himself. He pulls back the curtains on the part of his life that made him a writer, beginning with a high school and later his Harvard mentor.
What is revealed is a young man adrift in life. Things happen to him rather than he makes them happen.
"Hey, want to join the National Guard," encourages one pal.
Sure.
"But what about the war?" challenge the activists on campus.
What war?
He seems to drift through life, riding the tides stirred by others. Kidder works to meet the expectations of parents. He writes to please a professor who never quite reveals why he values some works and not others that Kidder produces for him. He tries to be the man Mary Ann will find irresistible, yet never quite makes the grade.
Basic training is actually a relief from the angst of his perceived inadequacies. He can follow directions. He can work hard. He can take orders. The success is euphoric.
Caught in that tide, he drifts into active duty in Vietnam.
The good news is that he is not in combat. The bad news he’s not in combat. Though the desire to survive is strong, so is the disappointment that once again he is on the periphery of life.
Letters home embellish to outright lie about his life in ‘Nam. Depending on the audience, the story changes. One set of images for Mom and Dad. Another for Mary Ann still hoping simultaneously for sympathy for his plight and passion for his heroics. Yet another "take" on the war with his role and reactions offered for his anti-war activist friends.
And then there is the novel. What prompts Kidder’s memoir is re-reading a long-lost copy of his Vietnam tragedy sent to him by an old friend. Years earlier, Kidder had destroyed the copies he had. From across almost 40 years, Kidder now can apply his objectivity to those experiences and to the young man living them.
Kidder recalls his first dinner as a young lieutenant with his colonel. His survival radar was on.
"Watch what the Colonel does."
"Call everyone sir."
Then, in a telling line, he has a revelation that may be the beginning of the Kidder we know:
"I had only limited experience keeping my mouth shut. It seemed like something I should do more often. One noticed things."
Slowly Kidder becomes acclimated to his Army life, and to being a leader of what he comes to call "his" detachment. With almost brutal honesty, he tells his story of that moment in his life.
But true to his style, he lets readers draw their own conclusions.
"My Detachment: A Memoir" is another intriguing piece in the Kidder collection.
Dr. Joan Ruddiman, Ed.D., is a teacher and friend of the Allentown Public Library.

