Us

Like the movie Apocalypse Now , this novel mixes cynical realism with hallucinatory myth as it measures the psychic wounds inflicted by the Vietnam War. The narrative portions follow Loman, an expatriate American vet who owns a bar/brothel in Bangkok, as he plays reluctant guide to Congressman Elliott Mundy in his quest for photo-op gold: living proof of MIAs surviving in the Burmese jungle. Karlin's expert recreation of snipered paranoia yields for long stretches to studied stream-of-consciousness as Loman grapples with a spiritual realm at least as nasty as the opium war in whose midst he has landed. The sad protagonist proves ultimately less interesting than his battle-scarred supporting cast: the bar's circle of crazy vets, pampered politico Mundy and a ruthless ex-CIA operative. Karlin ( Crossfire ) handles a now-familiar tale of U.S. complicity in Third-World carnage with earnest professionalism, but his epic exercise seems a bit forced, its horror a tool for pedantry, its moral as predictable as any medieval passion play. ( Feb. )