Jason Elliot’s An Unexpected Light: Travels In Afghanistan is a beautifully written book, on par with The Places In Between. The author’s aimless wanderings in Afghanistan during the rise to power of the Taliban record the country and its people in an undeniably alluring way. He captures the daily life of Afghans throughout the country and, in his honest and provocative writing, the impact of decades of war.

Colby Buzzel’s My War: Killing Time in Iraq falls into the category of books that I’m not sure what to say about – it leaves one stunned upon completion. Reminiscent of Jarhead, this book version of the author’s blog is a hard-hitting depiction of the war. There’s no coating or attempts to depict false senses of glory and honor and the rest of the recruiter’s material. The poor grammar serves to reinforce the raw vision. The highest praise I can give the book, I suppose, is that I burned through it in 8 hours.

Jason Burke’s On the Road to Kandahar despite its title does not deal exclusively with Afghanistan and the former power-seat of the Taliban. It is the author’s account of his experience reporting, for the last decade or so, from the Islamic world. Focusing on the rise and nature of militant Islam, Burke puts forth his theory on the dispersed and autonomous nature of the groups, analyzing the cause of their rise and their increasingly lacking support from local communities. Though I’ve yet to read his first book, Al-Qaeda, this one seems to be in large part a rehashing of the same, but updated, broader in scope, and, after the attacks on the author’s home city of London, more personal. I quite enjoyed it. A recommended read for those interested in the region.

The Prince of the Marshes: And Other Occupational Hazards of a Year in Iraq, Rory Stewart’s second book, is a depressing read. Detailing Stewart’s time as CPA governor in two of Iraq’s southern provinces, it gives a clear view of the mess of politics in the country. Despite intentions, any action taken by any party is turned negative, or at best futile – demonstrating the failure inherit in a people who do not wish to be governed, being governed by a people who do not wish to govern.

Jason Robert’s A Sense Of the World is a biography of James Holman, the Blind Traveler. Living in the early 19th century, Holman traveled the world, not letting his blindness come in the way of his successful career as a writer or his circumnavigation of the globe. I found the book itself to be wanting in detail – the sense of adventure in his travels is often missing – though this is more likely due to the lack of source material than the author’s talent. For those stricken with a case of wanderlust, or, as Roberts so skillfully puts it, the “freedom of abandon”, this account of “poet turned warrior turned wanderer”, the clear predecessor to Burton, is a recommended read.

The difference between journalists and writers is that journalists report events after the fact, constructing images from rumor and hearsay, presenting it as fact. Writers live in the moment. They pen what they see, hear, feel, taste, and smell – not purporting it to be fact, but only what was experienced.

Sarah Chayes begins The Punishment of Virtue: Inside Afghanistan After the Taliban as a journalist and ends as a writer: the difference is starkly obvious. As such, I found the beginning of the book slow and mundane, but the rest an exciting and rich source of information. Overall, the book is a marked second to The Places In Between, but her summation of the history of Afghanistan, focusing particularly on the city of Kandahar, is well worth the read. And her exposure of the weakness of the Karzai government, the meddling of Pakistan, and the critique of post-Taliban U.S. policy is a crucial piece of insight into the region’s modern standing.