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• ISBN13: 9781451626650

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Set in Italy during World War II, this is the story of the incomparable, malingering bombardier, Yossarian, a hero who is furious because thousands of people he has never met are trying to kill him. But his real problem is not the enemy—it is his own army, which keeps increasing the number of missions the men must fly to complete their service. Yet if Yossarian makes any attempt to excuse himself from the perilous missions he’s assigned, he’ll be in violation of Catch-22, a hilariously sinister bureaucratic rule: a man is considered insane if he willingly continues to fly dangerous combat missions, but if he makes a formal request to be removed from duty, he is proven sane and therefore ineligible to be relieved.

This fiftieth-anniversary edition commemorates Joseph Heller’s masterpiece with a new introduction by Christopher Buckley; a wealth of critical essays and reviews by Norman Mailer, Alfred Kazin, Anthony Burgess, and others; rare papers and photos from Joseph Heller’s personal archive; and much more. Here, at last, is the definitive edition of a classic of world literature.

Yossarian says, "You're talking about winning the war, and I am talking about winning the war and keeping alive."
"Exactly," Clevinger snapped smugly. "And which do you think is more important?"
"To whom?" Yossarian shot back. "It doesn't make a damn bit of difference who wins the war to someone who's dead."
"I can't think of another attitude that could be depended upon to give greater comfort to the enemy."
"The enemy," retorted Yossarian with weighted precision, "is anybody who's going to get you killed, no matter which side he's on."
Mirabile dictu, the book holds up post-Reagan, post-Gulf War. It's a good thing, too. As long as there's a military, that engine of lethal authority, Catch-22 will shine as a handbook for smart-alecky pacifists. It's an utterly serious and sad, but damn funny book.

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Something Happened is Joseph Heller's wonderfully inventive and controversial second novel satirizing business life and American culture. The story is told as if the reader was overhearing the patter of Bob Slocum's brain -- recording what is going on at the office, as well as his fantasies and memories that complete the story of his life. The result is a novel as original and memorable as his Catch-22.

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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.

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Some say it was Virginia and some say it was North Carolina but all agree it was a bar. Everyone was drinking domestic beer, except Reacher, who was drinking coffee, and inevitably after an hour the talk turned to guys people knew. Reacher sat quiet, not really part of the group, content to ignore the war stories and the tall tales, until the name Nick Heller came up. Someone said Heller had been one of General Hood's boys, and was therefore suspect, because everyone knew Hood was as bent as a nine dollar bill. Reacher shook his head and spoke for the first time in an hour.

"No," he said. "Heller worked for Hood, but he was never one of the boys. In fact the smart money said Heller was the guy who would take Hood down one day."

"You know Heller?" someone asked.

"No," Reacher said again. "But I met a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy. And I heard things."

"And?"

"I made a mental note, that's all. Heller's OK."

"As good as us?"

"Better."

"Than you too?"

"What's he like?"

"He drives a Land Rover. A thing called a Defender. British. Like a Willys jeep without the frills. That's about all you need to know, right there."

"So he's a caveman, like you."

"No, that's where it gets complicated. He's very smart with technology. I heard he did a couple of years in D.C. with one of those hi-tech Beltway firms. Like the CIA, but private. Better paid. And more efficient, obviously."

"I heard he's in Boston," someone said.

"There was an issue."

"What kind?"

"Ethical, probably. Heller's got a backbone. Guys like that have problems in D.C."

"His dad was a crook."

"Financial," Reacher said.

"They're all crooks. But Heller's OK."

"Would you trust him? You?"

"Probably," Reacher said. "He's a stand-up guy. Apparently he went to bat for his brother a year or so ago. No reason to, but he did. It was a bad situation, too. But he came out ahead. Some very nice moves. There's a nephew, they say. Weird kid, but Heller does his best. And his mother is still on the scene. Someone once told me a guy who gets along with his mother can't be all bad."

"Who told you that?"

"My mother."

"What's he doing in Boston? Private eye?"

"Not exactly," Reacher said. "More like a private spy. He put together a crew up there. They do the CIA stuff in the office, and then he goes and does the black ops stuff himself. One stop shopping."

"Is he a Red Sox fan?"

"I hope not."

"Still, Boston. Quiet up there."

"Not very," Reacher said. "Guy I met was talking about a kidnapping. Some rich girl taken out of a night club. Billionaire father, and so on and so forth. Some serious Russians involved. I mean, serious as lung cancer. But it turned out OK."

"That was Heller?"

"Lips are sealed, but I don't see who else it could have been. It was done about ninety percent the same way I would have done it. Which means it had to be Heller. There's no one else that good up there."

"You've got competition," someone said.

"Human nature," he said. "There are always new guys. Law of averages says some of them will be good."

"Would you call him? If you were in trouble in Boston?"

"I don't have a phone," Reacher said.

"But I'd be happy enough if he happened to show up. We could do some damage together, that's for damn sure."

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