A reporter and novelist who is also a soldier in the Ukrainian army reconsiders his pacifism and the choices one makes when war is waged against you.
"Chapeye represents a modern-day Ukrainian counterpart to classic American writers like Mark Twain or O. Henry, capturing the dignity and respect his characters might not get but nonetheless long for and deserve. . . . —Kate Tsurkan, Los Angeles Review of Books
In Ordinary People Don't Carry Machine Guns, Artem Chapeye reveals his war, intimate and senseless, withholding nothing about his motivations, his nightmares, his new relationship with the world. Here one man, a pacifist turned fighter, a story writer turned soldier considers the reasons for and reactions to war on a very personal level.
Chapeye investigates his role in the Ukrainian people’s defense against the Russian army and his responsibilities as a father, a writer, a soldier, and a man of conviction. An avowed pacifist until 2022, Chapeye joined the Ukrainian army in the first days of the invasion. He tries to understand the large-scale decision-making that has a defining impact on both individual citizens and society-at-large: many of his fellow soldiers never considered enlisting before finding themselves at war; others fled the country. He wonders what his young children at home are doing and what they’re feeling.
The book has three parts, offering historical analogies and literary references throughout.
— “When Darkness Comes” relates the first days of the full-scale invasion in February 2022 when lives and the peace were shattered.
— “It’s Necessary to Cultivate Your Garden” details the experience of the everyday people of Ukraine, workers and peasants, who look forward to returning to simpler lives.
— The last section, “People Aren’t Divided into Brands,” critiques the elitism of those who consider themselves above those who “simply” fight.
Deeply thought-provoking, intelligent, and heartbreaking, this is an essential book for anyone who wants to understand the ways that war can change everything.
