Etna by Paul Yoon
Monday, July 27, 2026 at 8:09AM
TChris in General Fiction, HR, Paul Yoon

Published by Scribner on August 4, 2026

The phrase “dogs of war” originates in Shakespeare’s Julius Caeser and is the title of an excellent Fredrick Forsythe thriller, but dogs are not characters in either the play or the novel. Etna is a true “dogs of war” story. It tells the story of war and its aftermath from a dog’s perspective.

The war is waged for four years in an unidentified country, presumably South Korea. American and European soldiers are among the combatants who have arrived to defend the country from an unidentified enemy. Given the use of drones and cellphones, this is a modern war, not a story from the past.

A doctor named Soojin belongs to the army of the country where the novel takes place. She has the ability to communicate with dogs. The Americans have hired her to identify and train dogs who can help with the war. On a farm, she finds a twelve-month old mixed-breed shepherd. She names him Etna, after a volcano, although a bird later tells Etna that in Greek his name means “to burn.”

The story is told from Etna’s point of view. Etna explains that animals communicate with each other silently (“it was like dark shapes appeared and lived in a space between our eyes, shapes we could translate”), but Etna feels Soojin’s words “more physically, and around me: it was like the air was pressing against my ears, and then a small door opened in my head into a corner I had never been inside before.” I’ve had dogs who seemed to understand everything I say (and some who have understood nothing, unless they were feigning ignorance), but I envy Soojin’s ability to understand their language.

Soojin named a second dog Fuji. She urges Etna and Fuji to find her when the war is over so they can move to Italy and live in peace.

The army trains the dogs to attack the enemy, going for the throat when necessary. They are also tasked with sniffing out IEDs and buried mines.

The war lasts four years. The soldier who handles Etna takes good care of him but doesn’t want to keep him when the war ends. “I wasn’t his dog. When he saw me, he saw the dog he had worked with and fought alongside and lost.” Before the war is over, however, the soldier proves his love of Etna.

Etna relates some of his wartime adventures, but most of the story takes place after the war ends. Etna has experienced the same trauma that human soldiers endure. “I had seen mountains burn. I had seen lakes burn and boulders burn and airplanes burn and tanks burn and animals burn and humans burn and bones burn. And when there was nothing left to burn, there was still the sound of it. I would always remember the sound of the burning.” Humans develop PTSD and I suppose there is no reason to think that dogs react to trauma any differently.

For much of his time after the war, Etna is on his own, trying to get back to the farm where he was born. The war has turned the country into a wasteland and left humans in desperate circumstances. Some humans are still fighting. Some want to eat him. He travels to a city and into the mountains during his quest to return to the coastal farm of his puppyhood.

Etna meets a couple of friendly dogs along the way. A dog named Semeru who shares his dreams of a well becomes his companion. Sometimes they play tug with an old rope because, well, they’re dogs. Pausing to play in the midst of turmoil is one of the many things I love about this novel.

For good reason, Etna is wary of humans, but he encounters another doctor, a kindly man who treats his wounds and helps him with part of his journey. Will Etna reunite with Soojin? That question provides the story with some of its drama.

The importance to dogs of being part of a pack is the novel’s underlying theme. It serves as a reminder of the importance to humans of community and relationships, or at least a sense of belonging. At the same time, Etna and Semeru make clear that being part of a pack doesn’t require us to attack everyone outside the pack or to regard others as outsiders. Etna defends himself and protects his humans as necessary but never condemns other humans or animals (even donkeys) simply because they are different.

Near the story’s end, a bird reminds Etna of the importance of having friends, even if the friends are not like us. If we lose our pack, the bird counsels, we need to find another. It is important not to be alone.

Maybe Etna learns that you can’t go home again. If Etna’s home still exists, it won’t exist as he remembers it. The smells will be unfamiliar. Change is difficult for humans and dogs alike, but the time may come to make a new home, to form or join a new pack. We endure because there is always hope that life will get better. Sometimes it does.

If you can’t abide sadness, don’t read Etna. Paul Yoon doesn’t shy away from tragic moments. He nevertheless balances them with moments of grace. The story is written with deceptive simplicity that almost masks its elegance. Lovers of dogs and literature should find Etna to be a memorable experience.

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