An Intimate Dance with Darkness: A Review of Angel Down by Daniel Kraus
When I came across Angel Down, the latest workings of Daniel Kraus, I was initially struck by the promise of something entirely different from his previous masterpiece, Whalefall. With that launch pad of expectation, I dove into Angel Down—an experience that aggressively challenges and reshapes the standard notions of narrative. And let me tell you, this book did not just catch my attention; it ensnared my mind and tugged relentlessly at my heart.
Kraus takes us straight to the muddy trenches of World War I, where we meet Private First Class Cyril Bagger, who, interestingly, is not in the thick of battle but has been consigned to a grim task: burying the dead. It’s in this environment that a piercing shriek—haunting and full of anguish—draws Bagger and his companions to an unexpected source: a woman tangled in barbed wire, radiating an almost ethereal light. The sudden introduction of an “angel” in such a hellish context creates a whirlwind of questions and reveals the various shades of human desire amidst chaos.
The beauty of Angel Down lies not in its plot, which unfolds simply over a couple of days, but in its depth—a rich character study masterfully exploring themes of war, desire, and the nature of miracles. Kraus employs a unique stream-of-consciousness style, written as a single sentence, plunging you into the mind of Bagger. The frantic pace is not for everyone—I’ll admit, it left me feeling breathless at times. Yet, it does embody the chaotic essence of war, immersing you deeply into the tortured psyche of a soldier. At moments, it felt exhausting, but in the best way, allowing me to resonate with Bagger’s struggles and ancient grief.
One of my favorite aspects of the book is how Kraus weaves in personal elements that define Bagger’s character—his late father’s red leather Bible becomes an emotional anchor, grounding him while he grapples with his fraught existence. This Bible isn’t just a relic; it’s a living part of him, revealing the complexities of memory and loss amid the savagery of war. Additionally, the relationship Bagger forges with Arno, a young boy who can’t read, becomes a tender highlight, contrasting innocence and the brutal realities surrounding them. Together, they share passages from The Son of Tarzan, underscoring the fragile tenderness that can exist even in the most harrowing conditions.
Kraus’s ability to balance visceral depictions of war—the blood, the gore, the grime—with stark moments of dark humor is impressive and thought-provoking. The character of the angel evolves dramatically, challenging the tropes of innocence and virtue, and presenting readers with questions far beyond a mere rescue mission. The surreal ending left me pondering for days—was the angel meant to save humanity, or is there something more ominous at play?
Angel Down is a jarring, almost exhausting read, but I suspect that’s precisely where its power lies. If you are a reader who enjoys thought-provoking literature about the complexities of human nature and the interplay between hope and despair, this book will resonate deeply with you. However, if you prefer a straightforward narrative without heavy emotional weight, it might not be your cup of tea.
In closing, I can confidently say that Kraus has concocted an experience that not only engages but lingers long after the final page. For anyone bold enough to explore the cavernous depths of the human condition within the harrowing context of war, Angel Down is a journey worth taking.