War is hell on earth. There’s no contesting that. In the haze of gunsmoke and artillery fire, there seems no worse place in the world to be. This space, shared by soldiers and civilians alike, takes on a life of its own. To those removed from its miseries, war can be masqueraded as many things: a necessity, a tragedy, a boast, or even a pursuit of glory. Neuropsychiatrist Anthony Feinstein’s new collection Shooting War profiles the work of eighteen conflict photographers in their attempts to capture the sensory assault of life at the frontlines. Heavy on the essays and light on the photographs, this volume makes for a remarkably pointed examination of the toll of bloodshed on those who cause, experience, and witness it.

**From Shooting War by Anthony Feinstein, copyright © 2018, Published by Glitterati Editions**

The book jacket shows its host’s hand early, capping the description on the back with Feinstein’s observation that “The work of conflict photography comes at a personal cost. War inevitably leaves a footprint”. The rest of the book is dedicated to proving this premise true. While there are few, if any, people who would challenge this assertion, those who do would find themselves hard-pressed to deny it after reading about David Guttenfelder’s experiences photographing the aftermath of the Rwandan Genocide or Corinne Dufka’s time as Reuter’s chief photographer in East, West, and Central Africa. Heart-rending photographs of executions, rescues, and refugees remind the world that a camera can be as difficult to shoot as a gun.

Approaching this book, it’s important to understand that it’s not so much a book of photography as one about it and its impact. As such, the coffee table approach comes across as a bit of a misstep. At their most impactful, coffee table books can be perused for 45 seconds or 45 minutes, stimulating while at the same time noncommittal. Shooting War is anything but noncommittal. While divvying up photographers by mini essays on their life and work is effective, minuscule sampling of photographs offered fails to furnish the reader with much of an idea as to the nature of their work. And, given that the primary aim of this book appears to be communicating the personal cost to conflict photographers of their work, in my opinion, there should be considerable more work to substantiate this message.

However, once you decide to focus on what this book is instead of what it’s not, that’s when its maximum potential finds its mark. As an account of the breadth of experiences had by conflict photographers covering various events around the world, there’s none equal. Expanding the definition of conflict to include nonviolent protest and the struggle against socioeconomic and racial inequality, Shooting War gets at the roots of many of the bloodier struggles found across its pages.

Despite Shooting War’s central emphasis on the experiences of the conflict photographer, it’s worth noting that the small spate of images capturing the civilian experience as astonishingly poignant. Feinstein’s knack for curation is not to be ignored. Robin Hammond’s stark image of a mental hospital in Mogadishu, Somalia paints a grim picture. Equally, if more quietly, devastating is Ashley Gilbertson’s entry on the homes left behind by soldiers fallen in combat. The scars of the battlefield run deep, crossing continents and consciousnesses around the world. Reflecting on her work, one wonders about the conflict photographers who lost their lives on the front lines as well. For every photographer featured in Shooting War, how many didn’t return? Feinstein can’t answer this question but by provoking the thought, he asks us to consider just how heavily the hammer of war falls upon us all.

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