Robert Pattison and Margaret Qualley are gonna be in this movie, EEK

The single lingering impression is that I need to read the rest of Denis Johnson's novels. I mean, I've read the great Jesus' Son three times, a middling book of essays Seek, only really remembering one about Burning Man, and his posthumous story collection The Largesse of the Sea Maiden, which I liked well enough. I've known the titles of his novels for more than a dozen years but haven't been moved to acquire them until now, always expecting I guess that they wouldn't approach Jesus' Son and I'd be a little disappointed, like with lesser DeLillo novels (Mao II, eg).

This one starts wonderfully, audaciously, narrated by a female journalist in 1984 Nicaragua looking for "the exact dimensions of Hell," a line on page 15 that triggered immediate recognition that jumped up to amazement and excitement once a line of dialogue appeared in which the narrator is asked if she's for sale and a little later a line about how this was the only part that turned her on. I googled the lyrics to The Sprawl by Sonic Youth. Sonic Youth acknowledges on a page for the song on their site that Denis Johnson influenced the song, so it's not like I discovered the lyrics' provenance but reading pre-dawn on the train to work and happening on these lines was exhilarating, thinking about the cool complexity of Kim Gordon quoting dialogue written by Denis Johnson writing in the guise of a female narrator. After running into the "does fuck you sound simple?" line on page 25, looking for "and he was candy all over" essentially served as the primary narrative drive/plot propulsion in a novel that at most was driven by language and intermittent reemergence of urgency to change money and get to the border with Costa Rica. (Tip for writers: getting an era-defining band to include a few cool lines from your novel in one of the most memorable songs on a masterpiece they'll record and release four years after publication of your book is definitely one way to improve your novel's reception/appreciation in posterity.)

Anyway, to answer the question asked early on in both the song and the book: the narrator is for sale, but she hooks up for free with a beautiful Englishman oil executive ("everything about him was candy," pg 95 or so). The narrator observes the world in an attractive, swervy manner -- the narrative voice generally reminiscent of Grace Paley's or more so Jane Bowles of Two Serious Ladies. The book also intermittently seems to fall apart into meandering meaningless dialogue, all of it cool but not so engaging, with only occasional historical or regional interest or insight.

I traveled in Nicaragua in 1995, somehow only eleven years after this was set, and the descriptions for the most part jibed, especially diesel exhaust in Managua, the general sense of threat in Matagalpa, the glory of the Masaya volcano, and the pier at the marshy border with Costa Rica. It's all a little exaggerated here for comic effect and isn't all that sensitive to war-torn Central America and its inhabitants etc but it's always well-observed, which is the very loose theme of the book, the power of observation, something like that, a paraphrase of one of those poems the narrator likes to quote by William "Something" Merwin, not that it matters much -- whatever suggestion of a lesson this novel may offer seems very much secondary to its setting and sensibility. Ultimately, this isn't really a "necessary" read but I'm glad I read it -- would only truly recommend it to DJ completists and/or Sonic Youth fanatics.

For those interested in images of the Sonic Youth lyrics appearing in their native state, free and in the wild, here ya go:
https://twitter.com/litfunforever/sta...

i feel like this is like normal people but for boys

Ομολογώ ότι το "Φισκαντόρο" δεν με ξετρέλανε αλλά αυτό είναι μολογουμένως ένα μικρό διαμαντάκι. Δανειζόμενος στοιχεία από Γκράχαμ Γκρήν (κυρίως), Έρικ Άμπλερ και Τζών ΛεΚαρέ ο Τζόνσον φτιάνει ένα κυνικό δράμα με στοιχεία περιπέτειεας με φόντο στην Νικαράγουα που έχει όλα τα στερεότυπα της νοτιοαμερικάνικης δυστοπίας: παρακρατικοί, παρακολούθηση, βορειοαμερικάνικα νήματα, επαναστατικός στρατός, φτώχια, εξαθλίωση και εκμιδενισμός της ανθρώπινης αξιοπρέπειας. Και παρόλο που ο Τζόνσον δεν φτάνει ούτε το δαχτυλάκι του Γκρήν, καταφέρνει χωρίς να μπλέκεται σε περιττές πολιτικές αναλύσεις και φτηνό μελόδραμα (οι κακοί αμερικανοί φταίνε για όλα) να αναδείξει την παράνοια της όλης κατάστασης και το δράμα των πρωταγωνιστών. Σίγουρα όχι ένα βιβλίο που θα ξεχωρίσει από το σωρό αλλά όποιος το ανακαλύψει δεν θα χάσει.

Το δεύτερο βιβλίο του Ντένις Τζόνσον που διαβάζω φέτος, αν και λιγότερο καλό από το Άγγελοι, σίγουρα καλό γενικότερα. Πειστικοί χαρακτήρες, εξαιρετικές περιγραφές της Νικαράγουας του 1984, με τις φτωχές γειτονιές, το τροπικό κλίμα με την υγρασία, τις βροχές, τον καυτό ήλιο, τα διάφορα έντομα, με τις κόντρες των... Κόντρας και των Σαντινίστας, με τα διάφορα παιχνίδια των Αμερικάνων με το πετρέλαιο και την πολιτική και, τέλος, με τον παρακμιακό σοσιαλισμό με τις ελλείψεις τροφίμων και άλλων ειδών. Όσον αφορά την γραφή, απλά εξαιρετική.

Τ' άστρα του απομεσήμερου. Ντένις Τζόνσον.

A study of self-destruction in an unusual setting. Which particular sphincter of the earth do self-destructive people go to to play out their neuroses? Why a war zone of course. In this case the setting is Nicaragua in 1984, ruled by the Sandinista, undermined by the CIA backed Contras. The narrator is an American woman, her self-destructive behaviour means we aren't sure if she's a spy, a prostitute, black marketeer (in currency), a journalist; the relationship she forms with a British businessman, initially she says is faceless, that he has no features other than his spectacles, but after demanding 50 Bucks for their first act of copulation, then turns into a seeming genuine love, although the Damoclean sword of betrayal hangs over them both continually. Hot, sweaty, dusty, in a land that doesn't work, the atmosphere is brilliantly done.

A bit reminiscent of Hemmingway and Casablanca, this is a somewhat ethereal tale that never comes into sharp focus. Takes place primarily in Nicaragua shortly after Sandinistas took control...a blurry, hazy adventure tale laden with corruption and blurry visions of misery.

I've been a fan of Denis Johnson since reading "Tree of Smoke" and while I'm not giving this book a full 5 stars (due to some repetitive scenes) this was a thoroughly enjoyable read with connections to Orwell and Dante as well as just some plain beautiful passages. I thought this book might be a bore due to the subject matter, but I wanted to give it a shot anyway. I was pleasantly surprised, however, to discover it was a rather brisk and engaging read. A very literary style thriller, if you will, or a literary romance with South America as a backdrop for politics and disillusionment. A rather slim novel, though. It does not quite match up with "Train Dreams" or "Jesus' Son" it is still a fascinating look at two characters whose names we never even get to know. I actually thought the novel could've benefited from a bit of a slimming down in editing, but otherwise, a most excellent read.

I wanted to like this book. I was excited to read it knowing it was a quick read of 181 pages and that a movie based on it starring Robert Pattinson was coming out this year, but it was honestly a let-down in my opinion.

I literally couldn’t tell you anything about this book except that there was a journalist and Englishman on the run in Nicaragua 1984. I did not comprehend anything else that was going on, and I felt like I was forcing myself to finish the book (which I should’ve finished in 3 days, not 13!). I’m not even sure I want to see the movie when it comes out now, but I’m sure if I were to have watched it first and then read this, it would’ve made a lot more sense. Overall a pretty boring read, and it reminded me of why I don’t like historical fiction novels.

It isn’t too many pages in that Johnson makes it clear we’ve stepped in quicksand. Not that the plot ever thickens enough to grab our foothold, but the heated-until-steaming atmosphere of Hell/Nicaragua circa ‘84 makes the clarity of a need for escape slam like a too-late epiphany. In this we spend the entirety of these pages neck and neck with our American Woman’s consolations towards escape and self-sabotaging-romance.

Johnson may have tightened up these type of bad-choices jungle thrillers with later releases like *The Laughing Monsters*, but maybe never approaches such sweating-with-Satan delirium.

Also: realizing (nearly) every line from Sonic Youth’s “The Sprawl” was lifted from Johnson’s words here was not unlike running into an old acquaintance in a nightmare

Probably wouldn't have finished it if it wasn't so short.
No character development. I loved the premise and the setting which kept me turning the page.
All the while waiting for that "moment" that really brought everything together.
Never got it...

I know Denis Johnson is a great writer and granted this is my first book of his. I'll read his other stuff which I'm sure is better.

This just kind of felt like a skeleton of a story, a draft of sorts...never really brought it home for me in the end.