Un-American

Erik Edstrom's "Un-American: A Soldier's Reckoning of Our Longest War" is a memoir that doubles as a pointed critique of American militarism and the costs of the post-9/11 wars. Edstrom, a West Point graduate who served as an infantry platoon leader in Afghanistan, uses his own experience as a lens through which to examine the broader machinery of the United States' foreign policy and its domestic consequences. The result is part personal narrative, part polemic, and the combination gives the book an unusual urgency.

The opening chapters trace Edstrom's path from a conventional, patriotic upbringing to his acceptance at West Point and his eventual deployment to Afghanistan. These sections are grounded in concrete detail: the discipline of military training, the camaraderie among soldiers, and the gradual erosion of certainty that accompanies combat. Edstrom does not romanticize his service. Instead, he describes the disorientation of fighting in a war whose objectives seemed increasingly abstract, even to those tasked with carrying them out. The loss of a soldier under his command becomes a pivotal moment in the narrative, prompting him to question not just the tactics of the war but its underlying purpose.

From this personal foundation, the book expands into a wider argument about what Edstrom sees as the misallocation of American resources and attention. He contrasts the enormous financial and human costs of the war in Afghanistan with domestic challenges such as infrastructure decay, healthcare access, and economic inequality. This comparative framing is one of the book's central rhetorical strategies: rather than treating foreign policy and domestic policy as separate concerns, Edstrom insists they are inextricably linked, arguing that resources spent abroad often come at the expense of needs at home.

The title itself signals the author's intent to challenge conventional notions of patriotism. Edstrom suggests that genuine love of country requires scrutiny of its actions rather than uncritical support, and he uses his own transformation from a true believer in the mission to a skeptic of the war's premises as evidence for this argument. This shift is handled with a degree of nuance; Edstrom avoids simply vilifying his former self or his fellow soldiers, instead presenting his disillusionment as a gradual process shaped by firsthand observation rather than ideological conversion.

Structurally, the book moves between memoir and argument, sometimes within the same chapter. This can create an uneven reading experience, as the intimate, scene-driven writing of the war sections gives way to more data-driven discussions of military spending, veteran care, and political accountability. Readers drawn primarily to combat memoirs may find the policy-oriented chapters less immediately engaging, while those more interested in the broader critique may wish for more sustained analysis rather than oscillation between modes. Still, the dual approach serves a clear purpose: it grounds abstract policy debates in lived experience, making the human stakes of distant war concrete.

Edstrom writes with a directness that avoids excessive technical jargon, making the book accessible to readers without a background in military or policy studies. His prose is clear and often blunt, reflecting the voice of someone who has grown impatient with euphemism and bureaucratic language. At the same time, the book maintains a reflective quality, particularly in passages dealing with grief, moral injury, and the search for meaning after combat.

What distinguishes "Un-American" from other veteran memoirs is its explicit call for systemic change. Edstrom does not stop at personal reckoning; he advocates for a reassessment of how the United States defines national security and allocates its resources. This makes the book as much a work of advocacy as memoir, and readers should approach it with that dual purpose in mind.

Overall, "Un-American" offers a candid, occasionally uneven, but consistently thoughtful account of one soldier's experience in Afghanistan and the questions it raised about American policy and identity. It will likely resonate most with readers interested in firsthand accounts of the war on terror and its broader implications, as well as those open to reconsidering conventional definitions of patriotism and national priorities.