Chris Ayres

A charming and heartwarming story about a teenager who discovers the wisdom, love, and lessons for a lifetime in her grandfather’s life stories, all because of a family Christmas tradition, the Love Chest.

The illustrations that accompany the story are wonderful and fit perfectly. Story and illustrations come together to create a beautiful reminder to value our families and the wisdom that they have to share with us. I loved how the author deftly characterized both the grandfather and granddaughter through descriptions of their hands. The grandfather reminded me so much of my own, also an impatient and ornery Italian.

There are so many uplifting messages in this short story. One of my favorites: “I learned from my Grandpa to never say that my elders were old, but rather that they were experienced. They had lived “all and well,” as my dear grandfather said of himself.”

While I thoroughly enjoyed the story, I think that the lack of details of the first week the granddaughter spends with her grandfather—especially as compared to the details about the family dinner at the book’s beginning—represents a missed opportunity to further engage the reader in the book’s message. Still, this short, inspiring tale about the love of family is well worth reading and sharing.

(Read April 2022)… (más)

A capable memoir but not entirely as advertised. The title, War Reporting for Cowards, the bright, cartoonish book design, the light prose, the reviews which call it 'hilarious' and 'laugh-out-loud'; all of this would suggest a breezy, roguish romp through an American misadventure in Iraq. Which makes it all the more jarring when, just a few chapters in, Ayres is describing what it felt like to be in Manhattan on September 11, 2001, watching office workers jump from the burning atrocity. "Here they come: black shapes, writhing, turning and grasping as they make the quarter-of-a-mile journey from the top floors of the World Trade Center to the concrete plaza below." (pg. 68)

It is the best writing of the book – "a section of the north tower comes loose, like a melted ice shelf falling into the ocean" (pg. 69) – but it leaves a hollow pit in your stomach that overshadows the rest of the book's jauntiness. Of course, given he was there on that day, Ayres is obliged to include an account of it. However, his reaction to the two planes also betrays a wider problem with his memoir; he just hasn't the inclination to sniff out a story. When a plane hits the North Tower, he doesn't rush to the scene. Even if it's believed, at that point, to be a bewildering aviation accident, it's still one hell of a story. When the second plane hits, he still doesn't want to bite at the story.

Ayres leans into this disinclination throughout the book, and it can be amusing, but it can also be exasperating. It's hard to believe, at times, that he's a journalist with one of the most reputable papers in the world (the London Times). Plenty of journalists and writers would kill for the opportunity to be in a Humvee with the 1st Marine Division at the spearhead of the 2003 invasion of Iraq, or – though they would not be so tactless as to admit it – to be in Manhattan at 8:46 a.m. on 9/11. Ayres plays up his unsuitability and his reluctance for entertainment effect, but it also reminds you that he's not doing his job (as much as you don't want people to put themselves in harm's way), that he's a burden on his military minders, underwhelming to his editors, and much happier doing 'lift and view' (recycling other papers' reports) than real journalism. It is, unfortunately, the type of journalist we get rather than the type we want. You get the impression he's only there in order to navigate his way up the career ladder (he all but admits it) and find opportunity for copy. The way he wriggles out of Iraq at the end feels like a kid trying to get out of P.E. class with a parent's note. He's a second-rate witness to history; a far cry from the Times' first war correspondent, William Howard Russell, who practically invented the role.

This 'cowardly' approach is the book's raison d'être, of course, and this honesty gives Ayres' writing an integrity that more self-aggrandizing, sensationalist 'I-dodged-sniper-fire' accounts forget. And yet it almost feels like he's saying it first, before someone else does, like a bald man making a joke about his pate. He keeps the book brief and easy to read, which are merits, but you also feel this helps cover up the fact that he did not do all that much (he's in Iraq for nine days). A true coward's perspective on war would be interesting; Ayres instead is a journalist looking to squander opportunities to do much original journaling. His self-deprecating anecdotes are amusing, but his 'I was there but only briefly and I didn't do much' betrays the book's overall lack of boost, and it reads like an extended magazine feature rather than something to which people should give too much of their time.… (más)

War Reporting for Cowards by Chris Ayres is a book which tells of the time the author was embedded with the Marines in the second Gulf War. Mr. Ayres still writes to British magazines and screen.

If there is one word to describe War Reporting for Cowards by Chris Ayres it’s “honest” – and probably also “funny”. So funny and honest it is.

The book follows Mr. Ayres as he becomes a “war reporter”, a short autobiography of growing up, going to school and getting a job. From there Mr. Ayres tells us about being a foreign correspondent in New York City and witnessing the 9/11 attacks from ground level. Mr. Ayres then gets assigned to Los Angeles, where he knows his assignments are not serious, yet he has to take them seriously in a wry sort of way.
Then he goes to Iraq.

Sometimes people want to talk with me about the Israel-Palestine, an issue I’m always willing to discuss frankly. Many are just trying to get information before making up their minds, but every once in a while I get the “why did Israel disproportionally bomb Palestine after they shot ‘only’ 2,000 rockets on them?”
My answer is almost always the same “what would you want to do if only one of those 2,000 was aimed at your kids?”
“Idealism increases in direct proportion to one’s distance from the problem.” – John Galsworthy

Being embedded with American troops is no joke, as he soon finds out. Even as an embedded reporter Mr. Ayers finds that he has been hardened witnessing the grim reality of war. The author finds that being on the front lines (without a gun) Mr. Galsworthy starts making sense.

The author’s self-deprecating humor shines throughout the book. He does not make himself to be a hero of the stature of John Rambo or John Matrix, but a reluctant reporter, a coward among brave men. Only that he’s not a coward, just a rational human being.

The book is an enjoyable read, an accurate war story without embellishments and with humor. A fun and easy read which will resonate with many people.

What I couldn’t get past though, were some of the mistakes in the book, outright jumbled words and calling Todd Beamer, the American passenger aboard United Airlines Flight 93 which was hijacked as part of the September 11 attacks, “Tom”.
I know those are minor complaints, but they really irritated me.

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