If it had a coherent plot it might well have made the literary-thriller best-seller lists, but if it had a coherent plot this wouldn't be a Denis Johnson novel with all the inherent delights and wonders his marvellous writing displays.
From the scary and hellish beginning we are straight into the mind of the narrator, a woman adrift in the maelstrom of political chaos in Nicaragua, 1984. The Contras and the Sandinista are at war. Our narrator is variously a reporter for an American magazine and an observer for the Eyes of Peace organisation, but she has plenty of money - albeit not in the right currency - and is being hounded by the sub-tenente, a military bully, who solicits sexual favours and confiscates her press card, leaving her vulnerable to arrest. But our (unnamed throughout) narrator is also not above posing as a prostitute when she comes across an Englishman and falls for him for no other reason than that he seems even more vulnerable than herself.
The Englishman has got himself into some kind of espionage trap and our narrator tries to help him escape, only to be dragged even further into the hotbed of Nicaraguan political unrest. Then the story is complicated by the entry of an obvious CIA agent into the mixture. The relentless heat, the poverty and degradation of the native Nicaraguans, the seedy hotels and bars, the cold-eyed military oppressors, this might be Greene-land, told by Raymond Chandler.
With its sharp, sassy, dialogue and witty, hard-boiled internal narrative reflection, who needs a coherent plot? This short novel of just 180 pages, is relentlessly entertaining and edgy - and another tour de force from this brilliant American writer.