Schroeder’s charming and hilarious memoir opens with a doozy—the writer and actor has chosen the Battle of Stalingrad as his first foray into the world of war reenactment. In the Colorado plains. In winter. On the Nazi side. Schroeder is as dedicated (period dress includes haircuts after all) as he is unprepared, but he soldiers on through reenactments spanning centuries, including a Roman siege, a civil war battle, a rowboat trip down the Hudson , and a slightly disturbing Vietnam War game. He even attempts to create his own historical reenactment, which involves a 26-mile walk through Los Angeles and a stuffed cat. In between his madcap accounts of working a real cannon and wearing a wool uniform in July, Schroeder still manages to portray the idiosyncratic participants of this niche culture in a sympathetic, even flattering way. From participating in a colonial-era funeral for the real death of reenactor, to gracefully bowing out of a nineteenth-century-style baptism, Schroeder chronicles his fellow war reenactors and their battles with respect and open-mindedness, despite an occasional grumble. Sarah Hunter