"A book that alternates between grim reality and ribald humor. The hard hits come fast. ... An incandescent addition to both Native American letters and the literature of the Iraq and Afghan wars."
-Kirkus starred review "
As You Were flows on a stream of consciousness, between childhood and adulthood, from the image of the author with a gun in his mouth back to the past experiences that would make him want to pull the trigger. ... Some books you read with a sense of wonder that the author survived to write them. Some books, by their very existence, suggest that writing can save your life. This is one of those books."
-Minneapolis Star-Tribune "Ugly, sad, tragic, and painfully funny.
As You Were is how brutal and beautiful the truth is when it turns on you."
–BULL: Men's Magazine "Sit down into the passenger seat and don't worry about that sound coming from under the hood, or that shudder in the front end, or the rust under your feet. Just let David Tromblay's voice carry you, and close your eyes to listen if you want–he's got the wheel, he knows where this is going."
–Stephen Graham Jones, author of The Only Good Indians "In
As You Were, David Tromblay stretches terrible sinew between the bones of wars fought with guns and fists and language–in the name of Country and love and family–in the home, on foreign land, and in the mind itself. This voice shirks at nothing. This voice tells the truth. This voice will ring in your head long after the final page."
–Terese Mailhot, author of Heart Berries: A Memoir "
As You Were navigates a dark childhood and time served as both a sailor and soldier during our wars for oil with humor, grace and tight, gritty prose. Every chapter's end left me turning the page fast–either teary-eyed or laughing but always holding my breath. I could not put it down."
–Toni Jensen, author of Carry "There is something both deep-reaching and visceral in the way this memoir ignites the readers; Tromblay's memories read like we're the ones re-experiencing our own repressed incidents. And he lets them come from anywhere, like shrapnel, waking us up to the true state of our collective American soul."
–Ismet Prcic, author of Shards
