Closing Time: The Sequel to Catch-22
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
A darkly comic and ambitious sequel to the American classic Catch-22.
In Closing Time, Joseph Heller returns to the characters of Catch-22, now coming to the end of their lives and the century, as is the entire generation that fought in World War II: Yossarian and Milo Minderbinder, the chaplain, and such newcomers as little Sammy Singer and giant Lew, all linked, in an uneasy peace and old age, fighting not the Germans this time, but The End. Closing Time deftly satirizes the realities and the myths of America in the half century since WWII: the absurdity of our politics, the decline of our society and our great cities, the greed and hypocrisy of our business and culture -- with the same ferocious humor as Catch-22.
Closing Time is outrageously funny and totally serious, and as brilliant and successful as Catch-22 itself, a fun-house mirror that captures, at once grotesquely and accurately, the truth about ourselves.
broken each other’s noses and split each other’s mouths in an altercation over money robbed from a drug-addicted young black prostitute, a close friend of theirs, with white skin, yellow hair, and AIDS, syphilis, tuberculosis, and new strains of gonorrhea. “There’s another weird thing about these federal intelligence guys,” McBride confided, when the two were out of the station. “They don’t see anything funny about those signs. It’s like they’ve seen them before.” They cut across the main
pleased with her once more, “he’d be flayed alive.” “Men do say that, darling,” said Frances Beach, “at their spring and fall collections, and make billions dressing us.” There were still plenty of poor people. Yossarian looked askance at a bunch sprawled on the sidewalk outside the hospital as he strode out to the curb and the stretch limousine with black windows waiting there to transport him to the luxury high-rise apartment building across town in which he now made his home. He had
explosion or the heat the chaplain would produce if he continued to evolve successfully into a nuclear mixture of tritium and lithium deuteride and achieved a critical mass. “Don’t hit him! Don’t grab him! Don’t touch him!” he barked out orders as a duty to his country and a last kindness to the chaplain, who declined to go along and save himself too. “Don’t let him get overheated! He might go off!” When they saw the general bolt, all of his scientists, technicians, engineers, and housekeeping
sure I can ever fall in love again,” he observed, pining. “I’m afraid those miracles may be past.” “And how do you think a woman my age feels?” “But what would you say,” Yossarian teased, “if I said I was in love now with a nurse named Melissa MacIntosh?” Frances welcomed this game. “I would remind you that at our age, love seldom makes it through the second weekend.” “And I’m also attracted to a shapely Australian blonde who shares her apartment, a friend named Angela Moorecock.” “I might
perfect health.” “Just wait,” he advised. Yossarian was back in the hospital for observation, having retreated there once more beneath another neurotic barrage of confusing physical symptoms to which he had become increasingly susceptible since finding himself dwelling alone again for just the second time in his life, and which seemed, one by one, to dissipate like vapor as soon as he described or was tested for each. Just a few months before, he had cured himself of an incurable case of