Laird Hunt is an outstanding writer.
In the opening pages, Ash Thompson is walking from Indiana to Ohio to join the Union army. We readers suspect early on, and are finally told, that Ash is really Constance Thompson who left her husband to run the farm. Constance, made of wire, Bartholomew of wool.
While Ash is telling the story years later, Hunt has cleverly left both Ash and we readers in the dark about where she is most of the time. Battles occur somewhere in the woods. Guns sound in all directions, but Ash can only see her regiment, and often little of it. She never knows who wins the battles, nor does she care.
Camp life presents different dangers for her, but she is tough enough that most men give Ash a wide berth.
Her story does not have a happy ending.
I don’t care. Mr. Hunt is a true wordsmith. Every sentence a polished gem.