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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... heard them giggling no more, breathing no more, and a lizard in the cabin's eaves began to call—a brief annunciatory warble and then a series of harsh, staccato chuckles—gek-ko; gek-ko; gek-ko ... After a while the man came out, a crew ...
... heard, “these Japs have got it all plumb, level, and square. Meanwhile, in the tropics, man, nothing but shit. Everybody's brain is boiled fat mush.” “That's what they tell me. I guess I'll find out.” “What about the fighting?” “What ...
... heard the small sounds of the young woman inside dealing with her purse, setting it on a table. She clapped and rubbed her hands and a puff of perfume drifted past him from the open window and he inhaled it. His ears rang, and tears ...
... heard from Trung. “How long since you've seen him?” “Not long,” the master admitted. “How long has he been back?” “Who can say? And you? How long since you've seen him?” “Many years. He has a northern accent now.” Hao stopped himself ...
... . And is it concrete?” Hao said, “Concrete construction.” “It's top-notch.” “Top-notch?” “It's very well made.” “Yes. It was placed by the Swiss Red Cross.” “When was this?” “I don't know when.” The colonel said, “They heard that.
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