The movie adaptation of American Sniper is an entertaining watch— at least as far as shoot-’em-up war stories go. It’s an easy re-watch, the kind of film you can have on in the background while doing something more important.

The book, on the other hand, is something else entirely. I’m not quite sure how best to characterize it.

For those who glorify war, American Sniper is probably a kind of bible. For those who believe they don’t need to take responsibility for their own actions— that choices and blame can always be assigned to a higher power— the book reinforces that mindset, giving permission to disengage from daily decision-making and personal accountability.

At its core, American Sniper is about war, bro-culture, and America’s unwillingness to see the bigger picture of the world it exists within. It reads as one man’s justification for murder, absent of empathy or any real understanding of the larger global community.

There are human elements here— grief, PTSD, love, family, difficult choices, and ethical dilemmas. The final quarter of the book does offer glimpses of humility and empathy, moments that acknowledge war is more than just “us vs. them” or “we’re good, they’re bad; they deserve to die.” But these moments are overshadowed by an unwavering belief that killing and violence in the name of the USA is justified, no matter how wrong it may be.

I’m not pro-war or particularly pro-USA, so I recognize my own bias. But asking the author to show some empathy, to acknowledge the complexity of war, and to take real responsibility for their actions doesn’t seem like too much to ask.