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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... stopped dead and listened a minute, he could hear also the pulse snickering in the heat of his flesh, and the creak of sweat in his ears. If he stayed motionless only another couple of seconds, the bugs found him and whined around his ...
... stopped beating. He gave it a shake, but he knew it was useless. He felt as if everything was all his fault, and with no one around to know about it, he let himself cry like a child. He was eighteen years old. When he got back to the ...
... afternoon,” the master said. “I'm glad you've stopped me.” They sat on the porch and made a start at polite conversation, moving into the doorway while a loud rain came over. The master apparently chose to let the chatter of.
... stopped himself from saying more, stared at his feet. “It disturbed you to see him.” “He came to my house. He wanted money for the cause.” “For the Vietminh? They don't take taxes in the city.” “If he asked, they must have told him to ...
... stopped only a meter from his face, and he understood that it was probably a grenade; it was his death. Something clapped down over the grenade. The soldier had covered it with his helmet and now lowered himself, not rapidly, but with ...
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