oI see that yet one more grownup of whom you might expect to next better is showcasing one of the most corrupt misrepresentations of World War II misery and suffering for a "top books" list. The culprit-recommender is Andrew Roberts, author of the highly rewarding Masters and Commanders, noted here. The book recommended is Curzio Malaparte's Kaputt, noted in passing here. It's a mystery to me why anybody takes Kaputt seriously; or why the NYRB bothered to publish this farrago of self-glorification and gothic fantasy. Shelve it alongside Lovecraft or Philip Dick--at a pinch maybe Mervin Peake--and I suppose I could pass it off with a shrug. Or better perhaps as a kind of high end Mary Sue, as imbued with wish-fulfillment as Hadrian VII. But to pass it off as a genuine representation of World War II experience seems to me an insult to genuine representations everywhere. I never cease to be baffled by the number and variety of normally sensible grownups appear to be sucked in by it.
More temperate followup: George MacDonald Fraser's Quartered Safe Out Here is indeed an honorable entry on the list, but if Roberts wants a truly gnarly picture of the Burma campaign, he might consider Charlton Ogburn's Marauders.