Review of "Songs for the Deaf" by Kenneth Alan Silver

Score: 93+/100 (9.3+ out of 10)

Songs for the Deaf is more than a novel—it's a mosaic of grief, history, political defiance, and moral complexity. In this book, Kenneth A. Silver blends historical fiction, political thriller, and personal memoir (a bit of a pseudo-memoir as it blend fiction for privacy and liability reasons) into a deeply emotional and at times destabilizing reading experience. Centered around the post-Vietnam War era and the ongoing search for missing American soldiers (POWs/MIAs), the book explores the devastating effects of war not only on soldiers but also on their families, national policy, and collective memory. At its heart, this novel is about truth—its pursuit, its burden, and the moral cost of bearing it.

The concept of this book is truly intriguing and compelling. After all, we have family and friends who have served in war. Heck, we have family and friends who've served in the Vietnam War (the focus of this book). So, this truly hits close to home. Furthermore, we've had numerous clients for which these issues are near and dear. For example, Lt. Col. Matthew Louis is a multi-time Outstanding Creator Awards winner for Mission Transition and Hiring Veterans, both of which highlight the challenges of transitioning from military to civilian life.

No, it's not just PTSD. The struggles include things like a loss of identity, difficulty navigating bureaucratic systems, and a sense of isolation in a society that often doesn’t understand or value military experience. These are the same emotional undercurrents that ripple through Songs for the Deaf. The novel doesn’t just recount history—it taps into the psychological limbo faced by both veterans and their families, especially when the fate of a loved one is unknown.
Much like Lt. Col. Matthew Louis’s work, this book shines a light on the enduring costs of service, not only for those who wore the uniform but for the ones who waited, hoped, and mourned in silence. The themes of betrayal, sacrifice, and the search for closure make this more than a work of fiction—it’s a tribute, a reckoning, and a reminder that for many, the war never truly ends.

In addition, the book shines a light on a different kind of veteran: those who've gone AWOL or defected. These are people who are often shunned, looked down on, rejected, or even persecuted (up to and including death sentences).

This is sure to be a touchy subject for a lot of people, especially how you interpet words like patriotism and nationalism. Ask yourself: was Edward Snowden a heroic, patriotic whistleblower or an anti-American traitor?

Your answer to that question will likely influence how you feel about this book.

In that spirit or vein, is a soldier who defects for perceivably noble or honorable reasons still noble or honorable? Can they still be considered heroic or even patriotic for the time they served?

Is there ever a good reason to turn your back on your country or your unit?

Also, here's another big question: Is it more noble and honorable to follow orders when your country is doing something wrong than refusing to participate when your country is doing something wrong?

Those are some tough questions.

And this book doesn't stop there. It dares to ask: Would the US government and military abandon POWs and MIAs, even with all this talk about leaving no man behind? Go to Arlington National Cemetery. Go to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and you get the impression that the United States loves and values its troops, especially POWs and MIAs.

We have phrases and terms like "Gold Star Families" to describe families of the lost and fallen.

Lastly, would some evil entity or group of people dare to profit off of the suffering of soldiers and their families?

The tough questions keep coming and they hit like a bag of bricks.
That's what makes this book so compelling.

With that said, unfortunately, the book does lose some steam as it begins to meander into things like eco-activism, zoning loopholes, and land development politics—topics that, while important, shift the narrative away from the emotional core that initially hooks the reader. The powerful momentum built through the Hathaway family’s grief, the gripping MIA mystery, and the raw exposure of scams and coverups begins to dilute as the story detours into corporate maneuvering and environmental legalese. While these subplots are thematically relevant—showing how ideals can erode over time—they occasionally feel overextended, distancing us from the heart-wrenching urgency that defines the novel’s strongest moments.

It’s not a deal-breaker, but the tonal shift might leave some readers yearning to get back to the fire that made the first half so unshakable.

Perhaps the thing that will make or break the experience for you (well, beside the patriotism/nationalism thing) is the intrusive narrator. For some reason—perhaps an urge to make this story more personal by sharing personal insight and experience—the author decided to insert himself and interject in various parts of the book. Yes, what he says adds context and can even be educational, but it really breaks the immersion in the story itself. It also interrupts the flow. We weren't huge fans of the intrusive narrator, but maybe you'll be.

Think of it like Deadpool breaking the fourth wall to tell you "You might be wondering how I got here..." except it's far more serious and deals with real-world life and death problems and implications such as the fates of service men and women as well as the impact of war on numerous people, the environment, and the world as a whole.

From time to time, there are things in this book that hit the reader right between the eyes since they're surprisingly relevant. For example, the book talks about protests at Columbia University. We've seen more protests at Columbia University recently! It's ironic it was happening decades ago!

Another thing that this book does exceptionally is craft really tasty and memorable quotes. For example:

- "No one has ever accused me of being the world’s greatest writer, and I don’t try to be. When I’m having trouble getting the words out, I need only write the way I talk. It’s an excellent laxative for a constipated brain."

- “When you need to communicate your test results, you’d better have the lungs of a carnival barker.”

- “Some folks will sell their soul for a piece of hope.”

- “We do earn our rep. Peace and shalom.”

- “It’s not the sight of blood that bothers me, it’s the aftermath.”

- "She ran to her husband... like an injured bird that was barely able to sing."

There's a lot of personality in these lines, not to mention literary techniques like similes and analogies. This is ironic because the actually personalities of the characters are a bit cartoonish and/or comical in stark contrast to the writing and the serious topics and subject matters.

For instance, "Major" Boris Richardson comes across as really over-the-top evil in some scenes, such as when he menaces the Hathaways and even strikes Sarah. He comes across as a scumbag con artist, which we guess fits his role.

Miles himself comes across as a bit disingenuous. It's difficult to explain why, but it might be because he's a bit of a self-insert character who needs to run parallel to the already-self-insert intrusive narrator who keeps intruding and self-inserting. It almost feels like there's a desk between you (the reader) and Miles. Miles is never directly in front of you, he's always three feet away. Why? Well, because the author/narrator is constantly trying to create plausible deniability that characters and events existed the way they did (perhaps for legal or privacy reasons).

Other character that kinda got on our nerves or that we didn't connect much with were Huckleberry Finn ( better known as "Huck") and Ted ("the bear"). You can even tell from their nicknames that they're kinda meant to be comical characters. Huck talks in this really meandering, sometimes nonsensical way. The wordiness of his speech is probably why he's called "Huck." Ted (and sometimes Huck) is vulgar and crude. He says a few things that rubbed us the wrong way, but that's locker room talk for you.

Sarah is a compelling character if for no other reason than her reason for existing is virtuous and loving. She longs to reunite with her son, John Hathway (who is MIA) again and even has dreams/nightmares about him. She keeps his memory (and hope) alive as much as possible.

General Calvin Hathaway, who has suffered the same tragedy and copes with it in different ways, is a really awesome character. He is grizzled old protector and the definition of a veteran. His quest for redemption is one of the selling points of this book.

Check it out on Amazon!