Tree of Smoke: A NovelFarrar, Straus and Giroux, 2007 M09 4 - 624 páginas Once upon a time there was a war . . . and a young American who thought of himself as the Quiet American and the Ugly American, and who wished to be neither, who wanted instead to be the Wise American, or the Good American, but who eventually came to witness himself as the Real American and finally as simply the Fucking American. That's me. |
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... Minh, the young Viet Nam Air Force pilot, dove with a mask and snorkel just off the shore of Grande Island. This was a newfound passion. The experience came close to what the birds of the air must enjoy, drifting above a landscape ...
... Minh tried not to drink very much, but he wanted to be polite, and he got very dizzy. The girls disappeared, they came back, the fan went around in the ceiling. A very young naval recruit joined them and somebody asked Minh if a war was ...
... Minh couldn't understand a word of it, though he considered his own English pretty fair. “The colonel has a big one.” The girl was fondling his penis. “Is he your friend?” Minh said, “I don't know.” “You don't know is he your friend ...
... Minh's escort had a pack in her hand and waved it happily. “So you explored the briny deeps today.” Minh wasn't sure what he meant. He said, “Yes.” “Ever been down there in any of those tunnels?” the colonel asked. “What is it?—tunnels ...
... Minh knew the colonel was one to stick with. Minh had a custom of picking out situations, people, as good luck, bad luck. He drank Lucky Lager, he smoked Lucky Strikes. The colonel called him “Lucky.” “John F. Kennedy was a beautiful ...
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