“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. “
It’s sentences like these that make me love Denis Johnson. These are from the first page of Tree of Smoke. Just started it last night. I don’t feel like reading another book about Vietnam, but I get the feeling this one is going to be different.