An epic
novel of bungled espionage and small mercies in the
Vietnam era.
Denis Johnson was born in
1949 in Munich, Germany, and raised in Tokyo, Manila,
and Washington. He has received many awards for his
work, including a Lannan Fellowship in Fiction and
a Whiting Writer’s Award. He has published several
books, including Seek: Reports from the Edges
of America and Beyond (2001), The Name of
the World (2000), Already Dead: A California
Gothic (1997), Jesus’ Son (1992),
Resuscitation of a Hanged Man (1991),
The Stars at Noon (1986), Fiskadoro
(1985), and Angels (1983). His works of poetry
include The Throne of the Third Heaven of the
Nations Millennium General Assembly: Poems, Collected
and New (1995), The Veil (1987), and
The Incognito Lounge (1982).
Copyright © 2007
by Denis Johnson. Published in September 2007 by Farrar,
Straus and Giroux, LLC. All rights reserved.
Last night at 3:00 a.m. President
Kennedy had been killed. Seaman Houston and the other
two recruits slept while the first reports traveled
around the world. There was one small nightspot on
the island, a dilapidated club with big revolving
fans in the ceiling and one bar and one pinball game;
the two marines who ran the club had come by to wake
them up and tell them what had happened to the President.
The two marines sat with the three sailors on the
bunks in the Quonset hut for transient enlisted men,
watching the air conditioner drip water into a coffee
can and drinking beer. The Armed Forces Network from
Subic Bay stayed on through the night, broadcasting
bulletins about the unfathomable murder.
Now it was late in the morning,
and Seaman Apprentice William Houston, Jr., began
feeling sober again as he stalked the jungle of Grande
Island carrying a borrowed .22-caliber rifle. There
were supposed to be some wild boars roaming this island
military resort, which was all he had seen so far
of the Philippines. He didn’t know how he felt
about this country. He just wanted to do some hunting
in the jungle. There were supposed to be some wild
boars around here.
He stepped carefully, thinking
about snakes and trying to be quiet because he wanted
to hear any boars before they charged him. He was
aware that he was terrifically on edge. From all around
came the ten thousand sounds of the jungle, as well
as the cries of gulls and the far-off surf, and if
he 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 head.
Excerpted from
Tree of Smoke
by Denis Johnson. Copyright © 2007 by Denis Johnson.
Published in September 2007 by Farrar, Straus and
Giroux, LLC. All rights reserved.
Video
of Cindy Johnson's acceptance speech from 2007 NBA Ceremony