The Rifle by Gary Paulsen

Books usually follow a main human-like character. This short novel follows the story of an old flint lock rifle. There are humans in the story, of course, but it's really about how this object was created and then what happened to it after. I read it over the course of just a couple of hours but I have a hard time thinking about it as literature.

What struck me was how sad it all was. The rifle was built as a piece of art. It was created with love and care. Then, because of what it was, tragedy followed it. It was just so incredibly sad. And pointless, so many of the deaths seemed pointless yet somehow inevitable. I wouldn't have pegged Paulsen as anti-gun in any way based on his other novels but it really felt like he spent some effort illustrating the tragedy.