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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... thought his head would explode, if the forenoon kept burning into the jungle all around him and the gulls kept screaming and the monkey kept regarding its surroundings carefully, moving its head and black eyes from side to side like ...
... thought about me as a witness. That's why I missed the sailing. He was on our rig. If I'd shipped out with him, I'd've gone eight weeks without closing both eyes.” The brothers drank from their mugs simultaneously and then sought,
... of the harbor by now.” Bill Houston felt his eyes flood with tears, choked with sudden emotion at his life and this place with everybody driving on the left. James said, “I never liked you.” “I know. Me too.” “Me too.” “I always thought ...
... thought you were a little-dick sonofabitch,” Bill said. “I always hated you,” his brother said. “God, I'm sorry,” Bill Houston said to the Japanese girl. He dragged some money from his wallet and tossed it onto the wet table, a hundred ...
... thought. But this was the loveliest country on the earth. Sorrow and war lay all over it, true, but the sickness of sorrow had never before penetrated the land itself. He didn't like to see it poisoned. On account of this American ...
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