Max Brooks has eclectic tastes. Writing isn’t an especially odd choice for a Hollywood nepo baby, but novels on Bigfoot and Minecraft certainly are. By far his most famous works are The Zombie Survival Guide and its spiritual sequel World War Z: An Oral History of The Zombie War, which benefitted from releasing well into America’s zombie craze of the 2000s and being well thought out explorations of the world he envisioned. What you might not expect if you’ve only heard of these books through reputation is their highly opinionated takes on weapon use and military tactics. Brooks has an impressive hatred for “high tech” military innovations, recommending older and simpler guns for personal use in Survival Guide and spending a great deal of time detailing the transformation of the United States Army into a low tech anti zombie force in World War Z. Given that his work got him an honorary position at West Point’s Modern War Institute and speaking events at the U.S. Naval War College, he must have felt emboldened to double down.
2023’s Tiger Chair is a short story where a Chinese officer recounts his experience in a future invasion of the United States West Coast and his country’s failure to contest the Los Angeles insurgency. The premise is pretty unbelievable on its face, although it's implied to take place decades in the future to allow the People’s Republic to gain in relative power over America and make a land invasion feasible. While China has managed to move the frontline to the Rocky Mountains (an inversion of World War Z, where the American government abandons its population East of the Rockies to hold out against the zombie hoards), their stated goal is to wear down the United States enough to get a favorable peace deal rather than march to the Eastern Seaboard. It’s worth stomaching the improbability to allow Brooks his case study in a more unique and relatable location to his mostly Western audience, given that the story would not be meaningfully improved by portraying an American invasion of the Middle East or something equally overdone but more plausible.
Given the lower stakes compared to a full length novel, it’s not surprising that it takes the opportunity to base the story completely around Brooks’ takes on military strategy. Tiger Chair’s motto, stated several times in text, may as well be “simplicity can defeat technology.” China’s occupation force relies on collecting huge amounts of battlefield data and outsourcing most combat decisions to AI, which human commanders can technically overrule but in practice never do out of fear of reprisal. The plucky American resistance finds low tech tactics to trick AI decision making or deprive Chinese systems of needed information (their greatest coup in this area is deleting official records of the Los Angeles sewer system before Chinese occupation, allowing insurgents to navigate the city and constantly harass Chinese troops). Regardless of whether Brooks’ AI capability timelines are plausible (they’re not), his simplicity über alles schtick is harder to accept in this scenario than his zombie fiction. In a war against slow, unthinking flesh eating machines, heavy artillery and armor might be a waste of resources. The People’s Liberation Army requires a more nuanced approach. Brooks is generally good at picking strong examples for his thesis, and his brief mentions of the carnage the PLA is facing from the American military at the Rockies smooths over some the insurgency’s difficulties, but moments like Hollywood actor trained impressionists foiling voice mass surveillance powered voice recognition occasionally took me out of it. His stronger point is how the rigidity of the PLA and restrictions on individual initiative harm Chinese offensives worldwide. American rebels and other opposing countries are able to execute and test strategies without prompt Chinese response, making it easier for China to bleed out when they would prefer a quicker, less attrition heavy war.
I’ve always had a weakness for kayfabe and the concept of fiction plucked from an alternate universe, which the extensive framing in World War Z satisfies. Tiger Chair is less elaborate given its length but still does an admirable job at this. The book is framed as a secret letter written by the aforementioned PLA officer to his childhood friend turned financial wizard after he loses any hope of victory. Aside from the more general anti war message it’s very obvious that Brooks is not sympathetic to the PRC, but this doesn’t bleed over into treating his caricaturing his main character. The officer was an enthusiastic nationalist and supporter of China’s war effort before reaching the age to enlist, but this is framed as appreciation for Chinese material prosperity and dedication to national service that feels like how a person in his place might think, rather than making him exclusively malicious or a propagandized pawn. His experience has prompted him to covertly assist anti war elements at home and reassess the worthiness of China’s leadership, but he hasn’t converted to a liberal democrat overnight. His offhand mention of Japanese, Korean, and Vietnamese Americans being rounded up into internment camps was chilling and useful in establishing where he’s actually breaking with Chinese leadership. Everything we hear about the occupation is filtered through his experience, and this story could have easily been much worse if he wasn’t handled as well as he is.
The vibe is generally very pro American, to an extent that I might usually find a tad sappy. Given that American discourse has become increasingly self loathing from right and left wing commentators alike, though, Brooks’ faith in the country is practically refreshing. China’s multi decade prelude to invasion involves a campaign to fracture Americans along identity lines and win the hearts and minds of American influencers, both of which fail spectacularly. The LA insurgency is as diverse as a college admissions photo, with African immigrants and descendants of slaves fighting side by side despite the Chinese belief in “micro fractures”, and disproportionate membership by American Born Chinese and American Indians. The officer brings up contemporary examples of celebrities bowing to Chinese market pressure to condemn Hong Kong protestors or Taiwanese independence (in language that feels a little overly judgemental coming from a PRC loyalist character), but they universally fail to cooperate under Chinese occupation given the PLA’s unwillingness to kill them and turn global opinion more firmly against them. The mental image of John Cena getting his family out of the occupation zone before refusing to comply and getting sent to a prison island is worth the price of admission by itself. It’s probably true that a Chinese occupation force would be incredibly unpopular in the US and would spark national unity, but I’m not sure how useful of an observation this is. America hasn’t been at serious risk of foreign invasion of its mainland since the Civil War or even before, so it seems like the country will be free to continue on the path of tribalism and division if it wants to.
This review is focused on criticisms and granular analysis of individual points because that’s where my strengths lie. If a short story can get me to think this deeply about its setting and message, I consider that worthwhile. If you like anything Brooks has written, Tiger Chair is worth the hour or so of time investment and the few dollars it will run you on Kindle. Just don’t expect to use it as a field guide if we don’t pause AI development and Chinese drone swarms actually fly over California.