[a:Stephen Crane|19879|Stephen Crane|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1197498223p2/19879.jpg]'s [b:The Red Badge of Courage|35220|The Red Badge of Courage|Stephen Crane|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1327936136l/35220.SY75.jpg|2314709] is one of those books I missed reading in high school and has been sitting around the house for decades. I'd always thought of it as a sort of workman-like book intended for young audiences, in the vein of [a:Esther Forbes|99849|Esther Forbes|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1286395635p2/99849.jpg]'s [b:Johnny Tremain|816870|Johnny Tremain|Esther Forbes|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1529294679l/816870.SX50.jpg|2683165]. But a few weeks ago, I heard an interview with [a:Paul Auster|296961|Paul Auster|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1554662932p2/296961.jpg] in which he talked about his recent biography of Crane, [b:Burning Boy: The Life and Work of Stephen Crane|56347224|Burning Boy The Life and Work of Stephen Crane|Paul Auster|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1614682616l/56347224.SY75.jpg|87795591], in which he makes the case that Crane is the first American Modernist. What Auster said interested me enough that I read Badge and I'm glad I did. It's brilliant and the themes it deals with, war, cowardice, truth, and courage, it does well and with prose that makes you see why [a:Ernest Hemmingway|21176664|Ernest Hemmingway|https://s.gr-assets.com/assets/nophoto/user/u_50x66-632230dc9882b4352d753eedf9396530.png] cited Crane as an influence. I'm fifty years beyond the age I would have first read this book if schools at the time weren't too busy making us read books that would inspire us to stay away from heroine, but I enjoyed it and found it a challenging, mature, and interesting novel.

 The men dropped here and there like bundles. The captain of the youth's company had been killed in an early part of the action. His body lay stretched out in the position of a tired man resting, but upon his face there was an astonished and sorrowful look, as if he thought some friend had done him an ill turn. The babbling man was grazed by a shot that made the blood stream widely down his face. He clapped both hands to his head. "Oh!" he said, and ran. Another grunted suddenly as if he had been struck by a club in the stomach. He sat down and gazed ruefully. In his eyes there was mute, indefinite reproach. Farther up the line a man, standing behind a tree, had had his knee joint splintered by a ball. Immediately he had dropped his rifle and gripped the tree with both arms. And there he remained, clinging desperately and crying for assistance that he might withdraw his hold upon the tree.