"Wignesan has fun throughout the book — with repetitions (and comments signifying that he knows that he repeats himself), with references to earlier books (and what I assume has been criticism for their academic style), and more. When Wignesan finally gets to the promised “story” over half-way through the book, he does give us exactly what we wanted from the beginning: a fluid, descriptive, engaging, and well-told story that only requires that we follow the words. But by then it is too late, dear Reader. Wignesan has already penetrated your mindset with literary guerrilla warfare. You have already been disabled, and had your literary ego neutralized and violated.
And finally — in the last few pages — Wignesan cleverly manages to extricate himself of responsibility by revealing his mere advisory role in the whole vicarious mess of piss an’ shit." Excerpt of the review by Adam Donaldson Powell
The smell of piss an' shit in his pants: The Vicarious Memoir of a Vietnam War Veteran by T. Wignesan
(Note: All the names in this memoir have been deliberately changed into mythic figures: as such the récit could also operate on another allegorical level. A certain number of infelicities in the text could not unfortunately be proof-read correctly owing to a life-threatening car accident the author was a victim of on February 9, 2015.) T. Wignesan
BOOK BLURB by the Author:
This is the story of a Vietnam War veteran. It would hardly be appropriate to use the word veteran for one so young, for when Ulixes was de-mobbed he was only twenty-two. He was born in the borough of Queens and grew up mainly there and in Brooklyn, New York, before being conscripted at twenty. In all he had spent a year and 67 days in Vietnam during which time he saw action as a foot-soldier. On three occasions, he and his patrol were ambushed by the Viet-Cong and North Vietnamese regular army personnel. There were seven other skirmishes as well. The first time a month after his arrival on October 1st, 1968, he went through the shock of seeing and handling mashed-up and dismembered bodies of his buddies while staving off an attack from the Viet Cong. The second took place two months later during the Mini Tet Offensive at Long Ogygia Base on the Cambodian border and lasted some twelve hours. He killed two North Vietnamese Army personnel; one with his M16 and another with his Ka-Bar knife. He sustained no great injuries himself; that is, not visibly on his person, but the scars of shock and fear were scorched deep under his fatigues and skin and rose with time to render his life a vacant yet furies-filled passage between the embattled three-room quarters he occupies and the Veterans' Hospital. On the psychologist and psychiatrists' cards he remains tagged as a post-traumatic stress (PTS) case. Is he a hero? Or an anti-hero? Or just a victim of circumstances? A pawn on the chess-board moved by invisible hands? Judge for yourself.
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, 2009
Excerpt
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Professional Reviews
5.0 out of 5 stars by Kalyan Panja
5.0 out of 5 stars Published by: Kalyan Panja (The original review - bourré des fautes - was re-written by the Author before publication.)
Reviewed in the United States on November 2, 2015
"...the smell of piss an' shit in his pants" by T. Wignesan is a true story of a twenty-year old lad from America who saw active duty as a foot-soldier beginning in the late '60s. This book is a vicarious memoir, not a novel. The author interviewed a Vietnam War veteran in 2009, and the text constitutes a psychological portrait of a friend he had met and known for a year soon after his being demobbed. The background to the “story” is not just the horror of war, but what this particular war did to him and his generation. “On the psychologist and psychiatrists' cards, he remains tagged as a post-traumatic stress case.”
All the names of persons and places have been deliberately changed and substituted with mythological ones.
In all he had spent a year and 67 days in Vietnam. On three occasions, he and his operational squads were ambushed by the Viet-Cong and North Vietnamese regular army personnel. There were seven other skirmishes as well. A month after his arrival on October 1st, 1968, he underwent “the shock of seeing and handling mashed-up and dismembered bodies of his buddies whilst staving off an assault from the Viet Cong.”
The second ambush took place at the Long Ogygia Base on the Cambodian border and lasted some twelve hours when he killed two North Vietnamese Army recruits, one with his M16 and another with his Ka-Bar knife.
On Vietnam much has been written, but this vicarious memoir stands out for its originality, outspokenness and revelations. The descriptions of the assaults in the Vietnamese jungle, the techniques of war and military means make for gripping reading.
Ulixes – here the interviewed soldier – is well aware of the risks he has to take every time he is ordered out on a mission. The author manages to convey to the reader the undercurrent of the humanity and sensitivity of the soldiers at every sortie simmering under the guise of efficiency and determination. Ulixes who has to deal with his own conscience as an inexperienced youth remains exposed to the intolerable conditions of a brutal war and returns thereafter to face up to the reality of a forfeited early life in the jungles.
Exciting, compelling, full of suspenseful action, the book is a masterpiece on the Vietnam war seen through the eyes of a soldier who really existed which is nothing short of amazing from beginning to end. And as always with the books of this genre, you have to be open to the multiple layers of meaning which confront you page after page, and you have to decide at some point whether you consider him a hero or an anti-hero.
Other incidents and encounters seen through the eyes of the protagonist Ulixes, together with his own attitudes and complexes vis-à-vis his associates and fellow soldiers, make this account of a life a veritable mine of a document for the benefit of the authorities everywhere.
A fantastic memoir of the bare old-fashioned type of war. Here the enemy is only a target. The author describes in great detail the activities of the US soldiers, interspersed with heroic sacrifice until the bitter end. The text leaves an unpleasant and uneasy feeling at the end of what can only be described as a dirty war.
5.0 out of 5 stars by Adam Donaldson Powell Note: The full review by Adam Donaldson Powell was not posted by the Publisher on Amazon.com. Here is the truncated version:
"Review:
Wignesan has fun throughout the book — with repetitions (and comments signifying that he knows that he repeats himself), with references to earlier books (and what I assume has been criticism for their academic style), and more. When Wignesan finally gets to the promised “story” over half-way through the book, he does give us exactly what we wanted from the beginning: a fluid, descriptive, engaging, and well-told story that only requires that we follow the words. But by then it is too late, dear Reader. Wignesan has already penetrated your mindset with literary guerrilla warfare. You have already been disabled, and had your literary ego neutralized and violated.
And finally — in the last few pages — Wignesan cleverly manages to extricate himself of responsibility by revealing his mere advisory role in the whole vicarious mess of piss an’ shit.
What do you expect, dear Reader? He has a doctoral degree in aesthetics, for chrissake! Hahaha … (Adam Donaldson Powell, Oslo, 2017.)
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Reviews for "the smell of piss an'shit in his pants:The Vicarious Memoir of a Vietnam Wa"
As a US citizen of that shameful era and finding that the book was written by a Malaysian Tamil educated in Europe, comes as a bit of a surprise. But your two reviews are sterling and makes me want to read this book after all this time.
My experience was as a college student dodging the draft question with an S1 draft status that my twin brother converted nicely by getting a job in a "essential war industry" and getting married. My brother-in-law, caught in the draft, elected to go to Germany instead of Vietnam. A friend, also drafted, spent his two years in the Navy stationed at Alameda Air Station in the San Francisco Bay.
As a hunter who killed animals to eat, knew of the horror of war, and everyone at my college was afraid of the draft. After the war I met a few veterans, but none told me of their experience as much as watching movies like Full Metal Jacket.
