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"A brutally real and unrelentingly raw memoir."--Kirkus (starred review) War photographer Lynsey Addario's memoir It's What I Do is the story of how the.
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• Lynsey Addario: It's What I Do - PhotoQ Bookshop @ World Press Photo
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• It's What I Do: A Photographer's Life of Love and War

She is an artist who has dedicated her life to taking images of people ravaged by war, starvation, and disease. Throughout the last two decades, she has traveled through conflict zones most Americans only see on the evening news and braved rebel armies, land mines, and car bombs in relentless pursuit of the perfect picture. It is hard to imagine a reader who won't find her life fascinating.

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Her book, It's What I Do: A Photographer's Life of Love and War , is less a memoir of her life, however, than it is a recounting of her love affair with photojournalism. To that end, a quick summary of her unconventional childhood only serves to explain her introduction to a Nikon camera, a gift from her father. She gives us brief glimpses of how her parents' divorce devastated her family, her painful adolescence alone with her struggling single mother, and her wanderlust that began with a study-abroad year in Bologna.

All of those experiences, which other memoirists could alchemize into entire volumes, merely foreground her entry into the life of freelance photojournalism, a life of thrills, danger, and immense responsibility.

She experienced two kidnappings and got shot at by Taliban forces while travelling with American troops in Abas Ghar. As she survives one brutal experience after another, she is motivated by the knowledge that her pictures will matter to policy makers and encourage them to shape a world far more peaceful than the one she photographs. With eighty-nine arresting images, the book is worthy of a coffee table, although it is infinitely more interesting than the garden variety of tabletop volumes. The majority of the photographs depict scenes of war and refugees, interspersed with a few family shots.

The pictures could stand alone as a testament to her talent and experience. The layered fabrics of burkas are indistinguishable from the curtains. Only an uncovered small child suggests that flesh and blood are present beneath the mounds of cloth.

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The jewel-like colors of the room have to serve as replacements for the empty ciphers of the covered female bodies. Addario is as conscious of color in her writing as she is in her photographs, eloquently capturing the golds, azures, and peaches of the Mediterranean and the Middle East. Landscapes elicit her most lyrical writing: "The sandy brown mountains fold like rumpled bed sheets into layers of vegetation, and clay houses fade into the land.

She is less astute about the people she meets, occasionally leaving readers wondering about fascinating acquaintances briefly introduced and then narratively abandoned, such as Salim, the twenty-three-year-old Kurdish driver desperate to experience life outside of his native Mosul, or Muhammad, another driver and a member of one of the most conservative tribes in Afghanistan who nevertheless introduced her to the world of forbidden girls' schools.

Addario has a pleasant knack for sustaining suspense throughout a chapter, successfully imbuing her readers with a sense of her terror in extreme circumstances, most notably her two kidnappings -- the first time by Iraqi insurgents, the second by pro-Gaddafi forces in Libya. She acknowledges and accepts the risks involved with her continuing drive to document conflict and did not allow these traumatic experiences to slow her pace.

Perhaps the female war correspondent is on her way to becoming a legend, too.

Addario writes vividly of their week-long ordeal, which included being blindfolded, bound and beaten. So, of course, did her male colleagues. On her release, Addario quickly got pregnant and panicked.

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While she exudes empathy for her subjects, she seems unable or unwilling to slow down enough to examine what really drives her. And drive herself she certainly does. They were captured at gunpoint and Mohammed was left dead at the checkpoint. Nor do we ever learn his full name. Of all of them, he was the most aware of the encroaching danger and yet his warnings went unheeded. She spent weeks undercover in Afghanistan in , photographing how women lived under the Taliban. Her image of American soldiers reacting to a mortar attack is a haze of movement and panic; her portraits of women victims of sexual assault in the DRC are heartbreaking in their intimacy.

Her ordeals as a photojournalist underpin her decision to have a baby, and if the book has a personal human interest story running underneath the myriad human interest stories she uncovers, it is the struggle to balance the conflicting roles of war photographer and mother. The narrative, though, never regains the heart-stopping momentum of the first chapter and it is not until chapter 11, when Addario revisits the moment of her capture in Libya and its fallout, that it becomes truly engaging again.

This was a question without direct answers, in a way.