Review: Working Fire: The Making of a Fireman by Zac Ungar

I suppose all of us have envied firemen.  Driving those big rigs with sirens wailing moving traffic, i.e. parting the waters, out of the way, and then fighting fires and saving lives. I read all the books I find on firefighting, Dennis Smith's memoir Report from Engine Co. 82 [my review] and Sean Flynn's 3000 Degrees [my review] are memorable.  I have been unable to read memoirs connected to 9/11, however.  Those all seem a bit raw, yet.

Working Fire is a compelling memoir that offers a vivid and often unsentimental look at the making of a firefighter. Zac Unger’s account is effective because it does not present firefighting as a glamorous or effortless calling. Instead, he shows it as a profession built on repetition, discipline, physical endurance, and trust. From the beginning, the book emphasizes the intensity of the work and the way firefighters must learn to function under pressure. Unger’s descriptions of the job are both immediate and reflective, which gives the memoir real depth. His writing captures not only what firefighting looks like, but what it feels like to enter a world where “there are no black belts in this business”. Oakland at that time was notoriously violent with more than its share of fires. As a child it had been off limits. "The part of Oakland I knew was effectively the southern tip of Berkeley; the son of a doctor and an academic, I’d always faced directly toward the university instead of looking over my shoulder at the gritty industrial world that was the true Oakland." Yet it was his mother who suggested he look at firefighting as a career.

One of the strongest parts of the memoir is Unger’s honesty about his own development. He does not pretend to be naturally suited for the work at first, and that makes his eventual progress more convincing. He shows the reader how embarrassing mistakes, physical exhaustion, and fear are all part of becoming competent. At one point, he reflects that “fire is chaos given form”, a line that captures both the unpredictability of the job and the mindset needed to survive it. This idea runs throughout the memoir: firefighting is not about mastering chaos completely, but about learning how to move through it with enough discipline and judgment to help others.

There is a certain dark comedy in the way firefighters operate. At the School of Medicine, my first library job,  our maintenance chief was so terrified of the fire department’s "path of destruction" that he ordered us to contact him before even thinking about dialing 911 if there ever were a fire. He wasn't wrong. Firefighters are essentially a highly trained wrecking crew. During a welfare check early in Ungar’s career, the team found a naked man stuck to his sink drain. By the time they freed his finger, the bathroom was in ruins. As Reggie hoisted his crowbars, he summed up the profession perfectly: "We messed that place up good... he'll never call us again."

"Firefighters aren't movers or construction workers.  We We’re not really licensed to do anything in particular, and we don’t guarantee our work. It’s mostly about the action; cleanup is for someone else." Note that fire trucks carry no construction tools, only those used for dismantling.

 Unger also succeeds in portraying the culture of the firehouse. The firefighters in the book are competitive, blunt, and sometimes rough, but they are also deeply connected to one another through shared risk. He captures the pride firefighters feel in their work, even in routine moments. His description of the rig being washed and polished shows how much symbolism surrounds the profession; the engine is not just equipment, but a public sign of readiness and responsibility. In one especially memorable passage, he describes the feeling of riding a fire engine as if it were “like flying”, which reveals how excitement and duty are intertwined in his experience of the job. He also notes that “fighting fire is fun”, a brief but revealing phrase that captures the strange mix of danger and exhilaration that draws firefighters to the work. Later, when discussing the limits of experience, he observes that “there are no black belts in this business”, which reinforces the idea that the job always demands humility and continued learning.

The memoir is notable for its emotional range. Unger can write with humor, but he also allows space for fear, humility, and tenderness. He shows how the demands of firefighting affect his personal life, especially his marriage and his sense of identity. The book is not only about learning a trade; it is also about becoming the kind of person who can live with danger, uncertainty, and responsibility. That broader human story makes the memoir more than a professional account. It becomes a story about maturity, belonging, and the price of commitment.

Another major strength of Working Fire is its realism. Unger does not exaggerate his own heroism, and he does not flatten the fire service into clichés. Instead, he shows the daily work, the procedures, the hierarchy, and the small humiliations that come with learning a difficult job. He makes clear that firefighting depends on mutual reliance. Nobody succeeds alone, and the book repeatedly reinforces the idea that survival depends on staying close to the team. This gives the book a strong moral center, because the central values are not glory or individual achievement, but competence, loyalty, and responsibility.

Overall, Working Fire is a well-written and thoughtful memoir that offers both action and insight. It is engaging because of its vivid scenes and fast-moving narrative, but it is memorable because of its honesty, self-deprecating humor, and self-awareness. Unger shows that becoming a firefighter is not just about learning how to fight fires; it is about learning how to trust others, accept fear, and grow into a role that carries real consequences. That combination of vivid storytelling and serious reflection makes the book a strong and rewarding read. It's also really fun to learn the difference between a "truck" and an "engine" and why alone neither can put out a fire.