Douglas Thiel’s novel addresses ubiquitous questions of free will, evil, and grace through its protagonist, Petie Jones.

The narrative begins in 1960s Kentucky with a wrongful accusation of sexual misconduct. Sloppy police work lands 17-year-old Petie in a holding cell with two felons, where he’s sexually assaulted and beaten. This traumatic event sparks departure for a new life; Petie volunteers for the draft and is sent to Vietnam as an infantryman. His tour is a grim litany of combat, culminating in an ambush where he’s shot, tied to a tree by the North Vietnamese, and left for dead before being rescued.

Back in the States, Petie joins the LAPD, and the story jumps forward to his life as a seasoned sergeant, marriage to a fellow officer, and mentorship by a philosophy professor.

Each chapter begins with a short essay on philosophical concepts, like the mind/body problem, free will, and utilitarianism, that function as a thematic primer for the chapter’s events. Thiel also punctuates the narrative with Petie’s internal monologues as he reflects on his experiences in philosophical terms.

The author’s plain, procedural style—horrific events are recounted with the factual coolness of a debriefing—lends Forgiveness authenticity, as does his inclusion of specific, mundane details, from penal codes to the contents of C-rations. But this often makes the lengthy paragraphs a monotonous march.

The philosophical sections sometimes feel like lectures, but mostly they organically reflect a protagonist trying to make sense of senseless violence: Does God exist when good Marines die in ill-conceived operations? Can you forgive the unforgivable when you’re the one left for dead?

Forgiveness ultimately succeeds less as polished literary fiction than as a raw philosophical testament. Readers who appreciate its unvarnished realism will find Thiel’s novel compelling, albeit demanding. The book offers no easy absolution; its achievement is not in providing an answer to the problem of forgiveness, but in meticulously mapping the haunting wounds that make such a question necessary.