As it is, in that great water world in the sky, he's probably reverse-inducted his air supply, causing his regulator to reverberate and self-destruct, or whatever it is regulators do when they implode in dismay.

Humberto Fontova has created a first book that is a paen to Louisiana and its Gulf fisheries.

In doing so, he has spear-gunned every sacred sea cow the Sea Hunt crowd--and the wine-tasting, escargot-slurping,environmentally-connected Sierra Clubbers--have ever embraced in the pursuit of politically correct, fish-hugging, non-consumptive usage of the Gulf of Mexico, and her abundant piscatorial plenty.

Thumbing his nose at all in a juicy redneck/sea-scum dialect, Fontova writes the following: "...In the Fund for Animal's annual 'Body Count,' which scores states in its 'Cavalcade of Cruelty' by the number of animals 'murdered' by hunters as reported by fish and game agencies, Louisiana was: NUMBER ONE! the last two years running..."

Hilariously irreverent, Fontova is a fast, furious, funny read about the ultimate extreme-edge sport, deep-water scuba diving and fish hunting around the lush fisheries environment of oil rigs off the Louisiana coast in the Gulf of Mexico. What makes it interesting is that not only are these characters going entirely too deep to be doing this stuff, but sometimes, the fish hunt them...

Rip Linton, head of the East Baton Rouge Parish (Louisiana) Sheriff's Office Flotilla Dive and Rescue Team, is a certified dive instructor, certified cave diver, and certified rescue diver. He has dived with most of the South Louisiana characters and clubs described in Fontova's book.

"When everyone started getting into diving back in the fifties, the tables for safe depths were written by the U.S. Navy," Linton said. "When I started diving with the Helldivers, and some of these other clubs, I was amazed at the depths they were reaching. Some of these characters were bending themselves, they were going so deep, and staying so long...and you can't 'bend' yourself over about three times before there's permanent damage. These guys were going down as much as a hundred feet below the Navy's recommended safe depths. They literally rewrote the books on maximum depths for scuba!"

THE HELLDIVERS RODEO is at once a description of middle-aged crazies who dive the rigs and platforms of the Gulf in polyester disco outfits from the Seventies, hunting big fish to spear and ride, and it is also a love affair with Louisiana and its waters as only an adoptee can describe and appreciate.

Born in Cuba in the fifties, Fontova starts his book describing how he and his cousin, watched over by their long-suffering nanny, Tata, would swim the shallow waters of the beaches east of Havana, using home-made spear guns and straightened coat hangers for spears. Stern milicianos, teen-aged boys with machine guns imbued with the spirit of la revolucion, stood watching them from the beach. Fontova describes how his family eventually escaped Cuba and Communist oppression, and landed in Louisiana.

"That was thirty years ago. Now Pelayo and I find ourselves a few hundred miles north of Cuba, and speaking a different language. We're brushing that 'continental slope' again, spearing fish again. We arrived a gaggle of penniless and terrified Cuban refugees--didn't even speak the language. But terror was short-lived. Louisiana has always embraced immigrants and even visitors. She greets them joyfully at the gangplank or tarmac like a lost grandmother, beaming and waving frantically. She rushes out, lifts and twirls them. She mashes them into her ample bosom...her stubbled chin poking them and her garlicky breath suffocating them. But no matter, she makes her point: 'Welcome! You're family now!'"

According to Fontova, when scuba diving started becoming popular in the mid-fifties, the rigs had been placed off the Louisiana coast less than ten years. Jacques Cousteau had just written the first book on scuba diving, THE SILENT WORLD, and the first underwater film, RED SEA ADVENTURE by Hans Hass, had just come out. All this led south Louisiana good ol' boys, raised on a culture of hunting and fishing, to see the benefits of combining the two by diving and spearfishing.

Many states have more certified divers than Louisiana, according to Fontova. But JBL, the world's largest manufacturer of spearguns, sells more spearguns in Louisiana than any other state in the union. In fact, most are sold out of a couple of area dive shops in New Orleans--the jumping off point for extreme diving and dangerous spearfishing...

A love affair with the outdoors and Louisiana's bounty, a history of skin-of-your-teeth diving by crazy south Louisiana Cajun cowboys and Cuban expatriates, and a hunt for the biggest, baddest fish, some of whom turn and come back at you when you stick them with a spear, THE HELLDIVERS RODEO is JAWS on steroids, and SEA HUNT in a straight jacket.

Ninety-eight percent of the deaths in skindiving occur while spear fishing. Read this book, and discover why. Discover a world so alien to your sensibilities, you will truly begin to understand why deep water diving has been compared to the aloneness, the vast blackness of outer space.

And when the Helldivers "bounce" dive the rigs, hunting the biggest, and frequently foulest-tempered of the fishes, spearing them and then ducking back into the web of rig legs so the teeth chew on steel and barnacles, rather than polyester and Cuban/Cajun machismo, you'll grit your teeth as the "pucker factor" causes you to grip your seat without use of your hands...

If SEA HUNT was an undersea rendering of outer space, THE HELLDIVERS RODEO is ALIENS on ..., and an unabashed thrill-seeking ride down deep for the high of the ultimate hunt. Get on board,pop a brew, hyperventilate, and take the ride. You'll never look at the Gulf of Mexico (or Cuban expatriates) the same again.

What these 5 young leaders did, not only during Operation Desert Shield/Storm, but also in taking the time & energy to put it down on paper, is absolutely invaluable to company grade officers. As an Mech Infantry Company Commander with no combat experience, I feel that I am better prepared for what lies ahead now that I have been exposed to this book. The candor of the 5 authors is a welcome relief.

Thank you to the 5 authors for providing today's military leaders with a glipmse into the most difficult leadership situation known to mankind...leading soldiers into battle.

Thanks for a great time, Mike. I can't wait to meet Tom and friends again.

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I was spellbound the whole way. In January 1998 the fishing vessel,La Conte sank,leaving its crew struggling in 100 mph winds and 90-foot seas. Spike Walker took me there emotionaly and made me see and feel the heroic Coast Guard rescue of the ship's crew. I can still visualize the helicopter below the tops of the gigantic waves. Spike Walker doesn't tell the story, he takes you there and places you in the middle of the ocean fighting the gigantic waves and freezing water. You can see and feel every emotion.It's hard not to get goose bumps. After reading this book I have a completely different view of the Coast Guard. I can't imagine anything harder to do than to patrol Alaskan Waters, determined to rescue anyone in danger, no matter what the odds. My hat is off to Spike Walker:

His writing is solid, but I was not terribly impressed with the book. As a driver, Turnipseed's experiences brought back many memories of my own experiences in the Gulf War - boredom, mind-games, the occasional SCUD alarm to break the monotony. But I found his philosophical musings a bit tiresome (as did some of his compadres, by the sound of it.) A deep thinker, a wise-guy, an earnest young man, a promising writer - Turnipseed is all of these things. And while there are instances in his book that are downright humorous(the fomation before he embarks for the Gulf, and the formation when he returns both brought a chuckle) in the final analysis, the book is not riveting material.

Joel Turnipseed is a different kind of a soldier. More of an intellectual than the prototypical warrior, he would much rather be in a coffeehouse discussing philosophy than in a military caravan. However, Joel Turnipseed is a Marine. He wanted out of the Corps, but never left and now he was called up and activated. When we learn that Turnipseed brings volumes and volumes of philosophy with him to war, we know that we are in for a different kind of war story.

Turnipseed was a driver for the Baghdad Express. The Baghdad Express was the largest supply line in recorded war. He would drive up to 600 miles a day in round trips bringind supplies and material to the front lines where the fighting and flying is going on. So while he wasn't a front line fighting soldier, he had a vital role in the first Gulf War. He relates his experiences in the war. Partially an outcast because of his philosophy, he was also included in a group called the Dog Pound. The Dog Pound was mostly African-American soldiers (Turnipseed is white) who loved to talk. Community was build through trading insults and fast moving conversation. Turnipseed's ability to adapt to this and his inclusion into the group (even spouting philosophy and have it listened to) was probably vital to his experience. However, as the war ends and the Minnesota group came back, Turnipseed finds himself slipping out of the Dog Pound that was his home for the duration of the war.

This was a very different look at a war because of who Joel Turnipseed is. He writes as a disclaimer that this is a memoir of memory and not of journalism so any mistakes is from what he remembers and perhaps not as everything actually happened....and this is a very honest admission. This is his story as he remembers it. He tells it very well and it is the best account I have read of the Gulf War (Thus far).

In any event, Hudson is surely to be commended for hitting on the whole range of Gulf War issues, from the dubious reasons for the war, to gays in the military, shaky media coverage, the need to "get over" Vietnam, military intelligence failures, racism, warrior myths, the new technology-laden war machine, Gulf War syndrome, and of course, the terrible psychological toll of the war on those who were in it. All of these are brought forth in stories of soldiers who are physically and psychological scarred-perhaps beyond redemption. In dark and sometimes surreal tales laden with macabre humor, Hudson emphatically drives the message home that this was not the clinical clean victory that was presented on CNN. And while I agree in general with his outlook, his style has a smug, preaching-to-the-choir aspect which will limit the book's audience and impact to the self-selecting literati he belongs to.

There are two stories which really stand out from the rest. Over seven pages, "The American Green Machine" imagines a Marine recruiting effort aimed at high school seniors which involves a brain implant and "Brain-Mail". It wonderfully captures the gung-ho recruiting and military bureaucracy lingo and is a truly funny bit of satire. The other notable piece is the 50+ page story "Notes From a Bunker Along Highway #8" in which a Green Beret deserts his unit, carrying a wounded comrade. They hole up in an abandoned Iraqi bunker populated by five chimpanzees, and get into yoga. Perhaps because it is the longest and most developed of the stories, it is also the most engaging and moving.

On the whole, I find the book useful and necessary, but not the masterpiece it's been proclaimed. The people who really need to read this kind of critique of the war simply aren't going to pick up a collection of absurdist short stories. So, in that sense, the book has very little power or impact. One final note: Amazon.com lists the book as 192 pages, it is in fact 178. And of these 178 pages, 42 are not writing, they are blank dividers, story title pages, table of contents, dedication, etc., so be forewarned that this is a slim book that you will finish in a little over two hours.

But here they are in all their human strength and frailty. Fictional, yes, but every writer uses his experiences and those of his friends to color their fictional world.

This book is far more readable and approachable than Catch-22 or Going after Cacciato, Apocalypse Now, and other war-genre stories to which it has been compared. Perhaps this is due to the contemporary nature of the stories, or maybe it's just because the writer captures character so well with dialogue
and action. This is a very quick, captivating read.

These stories have a huge dose of irony among the realistic snapshots of what the first Gulf War was like up-close. This is not the war we saw on CNN, this is more like Vietnam in the desert, where a confrontation with a few belligerent locals can turn into a landmine and booby-trap ridden massacre.

War veterans come home and can't forget their lives on the front lines. Minds snap, but their hearts are still in the right place. Chemical warfare takes its toll on veterans' bodies in different, horrible ways. Iraquis know just enough of our culture to get it wrong. You kill someone in order to save them. Your life back home goes to hell while you're living in hell on the front lines.

You have to laugh or you'd cry.

Read this.

The book has a strong 'honor the vet' edge that leaves a nasty taste in our mouths. If you've had the privilege of reading the scathing expose, My Lai 4 , by this same author you would never believe it's the same guy. This book does do a good job, if you filter well through the politics, of outlining the major physiological issues regarding the Gulf War Illness. With that exception noted, we can only say this: Paper will put up with anything that is written on it.

This book is the typical formula that that was old after Clancy's first book - it is looking no better with age. So, we have nothing new - but the death of many trees. It is a sad thing that this type of book gets published when there are probably much better books just waiting.

In between the combat, Herman shows a less-than-deft approach to Israeli politics. USAF pilots, well educated as they are, usually have their own opinions about such subjects as Israel's occupation of the West Bank and the settlements erected there - but Herman's protagonist is conveneiently clueless, and the readers can take heart that a sultry Israeli love interest is on hand to explain the UN resolutions against the Settlements while arab bombs rain down from above. The Knesset scenes, where charachteristically litiguous Isreali politicians censure each other for believing their own propaganda, is probably accurate. Less so are scenes meant to depict life in typical Israeli combat units. One such unit, a tank platoon, contains a Druze arab and an orthodox jew, the latter of the two doesn't really do anything but annoy his commander. Because the orthodox doesn't really exist outside his CO's negative perspective, he comes across less as a separate charachter than a blank apparently intended to symbolize all orthodox jewish soldiers. Let those orthodox jews who serve extended military tours debate the accuracy - it's simply poor writing, the product of any writer who can push just about anything with his miltary credentials, no matter how unrelated to his area of actual expertise. Doubtless orthodox soldiers still unaccounted for in the Lebanon war weren't given copies of "Firebreak" to enliven their captivity (assuming they lived long enough for the paperback ed.)

Worst of all, Herman's Israeli protagonist is the sexy Israeli linked up with the novel's hero. When are writers going to wise-up and realize how dated this stereotype is? This has to be the 3rd book I've read since the Gulf war that featured Israelis exploiting sex. Desert Storm, which showed how far ahead our military is in just about every way, has also revealed the how medeival technothriller writers are. Herman's understanding of the mid-east clearly neglects how often real-life anti-zionists (whether Islamic fundamentalist or secular pan-arabist) fall back on the stereotype of Female Mossad agents seducing otherwise stalwart arabs into sedition. So dated is this stereotype that, were Herman's military units comparably equipped, they'd be fighting with slingshots and pointy sticks.

Instead, Herman applies his critical thinking to his command of military technology, but even here comes up flat. These have to be the flattest flight scenes of any technothriller - comparable to some circa-1991 flight simulator. As usual for this sort of book, the plane come off feeling less like soaring engines of military might than cheap plastic models. Ofcourse the author refuses to depict air-to-air confrontations from a single point-of-view, preferring instead to show where his planes are at all times. In real air combat, the relative positions of different planes is one of the single most important factors. Herman's inability to exploit this element robs his air combat of both drama and realism, marring a book with little credibility to recommend it.

"Boy Island" is littered with the hilarious (all-true) history of Camper Van Beethoven. It details the origin of the musical aesthetic of Camper and Cracker. It pinpoints the moment that alternative culture was born. It fully conveys what it is to be on tour with a band.

This book's bevity belies its profundity. Its exquisite passages explore how one feels when confined (for several weeks) in the presence of a celebrity, and how thoroughly that distorts one's very desires and personality.

More than that, it is a fun and extremely touching tale of someone trying to figure out who he is and where he belongs. That this fictional "someone" happens to share the name of the author is what makes "Boy Island" so splendid. It is a phenomenally original reading experience--imagine DeLillo's "Great Jones Street" as composed by one of Borges's flipped-around mirror-protagonists, or if Philip K. Dick (one of CVB's favorite authors) tried to tell the story of the band.

All of this guy's works deal brilliantly with themes of identity and fame, reimagining cultural icons and endlessly proposing alternate universes of rock, but I think this one did it best. Too bad it's out of print.