Finding Moonby Tony Hillerman, Jay O. Sanders
Ricky Mathias, an American pilot, dies in the last days of the Vietnam War,his infant daughter orphaned somewhere in southeast Asia. Her uncle Malcolm 'Moon' Mathias must set aside his job as a newspaper editor and his nagging self-doubt to find the little girl. From the streets of Manila, to a rural cockfight, into a Filipino prison on Palawan Island, and, finally… See more details below
Ricky Mathias, an American pilot, dies in the last days of the Vietnam War,his infant daughter orphaned somewhere in southeast Asia. Her uncle Malcolm 'Moon' Mathias must set aside his job as a newspaper editor and his nagging self-doubt to find the little girl. From the streets of Manila, to a rural cockfight, into a Filipino prison on Palawan Island, and, finally across the South China Sea to where Pol Pot's Khmer Rouge is turning Cambodia into killing fields and Communist rockets are beginning to fall on the outskirts of Saigon.
Finding Moon is many things: a latter-day adventure epic, a deftly orchestrated romance, an arrested portrait of an exotic realm engulfed in turmoil, and a neatly turned tale of suspense. Most of all its a singular story of how a plain, uncertain man can achieve genuine heroism by battling his fears to find his best self.
- HarperCollins Publishers
- Publication date:
- Edition description:
- Abridged, 4 Cassettes
- Product dimensions:
- 4.13(w) x 7.05(h) x 1.19(d)
Read an Excerpt
PHNOM PENH, Cambodia, April 12 (Agence France-Presse) -- The United States abandoned its embassy here this morning, with six helicopters sweeping into the embassy grounds to evacuate the ambassador and his remaining staff.
The action came as the last resistance of the Cambodian Army collapsed and Khmer Rouge troops poured into the capital, many of them riding on captured tanks and trucks.
The First Day April 12, 1975
Sirley was giving Moon the caller-on-hold signal when he came through the newsroom door. He acknowledged Shirley with the I'll-call-'em-back signal, threw his hat on the copy desk, sat down, and looked at D. W. Hubbell.
"Nothing much," Hubbell said. "AP has an early tornado in Arkansas. Pretty mediocre, but it could get better. Things are still going to hell in Nam, and Ford has a press conference scheduled for eleven Washington time, and Kissinger issued a statement, and General Motors --"
"What did Henry say?"
Hubbell did not bother to look up from his duties, which at the moment involved chopping copy from the teletype machine into individual stories and sorting them into trays. The trays were variously labeled PAGE ONE, SPORTS, FEATURES, FUNNY, SOB STUFF, and PIG IRON -- the pig iron being what Hubbell considered "seriously dull stuff that the League of Women Voters reads."
Hubbell said, "What did Henry say? Let's see." He glanced at the top item in the PIG IRON file. "Henry said that Dick Nixon was correct in declaring we had won the war in Southeast Asia. Hesaid the North Viets were just too stubborn to understand that, and the press was playing up the current setbacks to make it look like a disaster, and it was going to be the fault of the Congress for not sending more money, and anyway don't blame Kissinger. Words to that effect."
"What looks good for the play story?" Moon asked, and sorted quickly through the FRONT PAGE tray. The United States seemed to be evacuating the embassy at Phnom Penh. Moon saved that one. The new president of South Vietnam, something-or-other Thieu, was picking a fight-to-the-death bunch for his cabinet. Moon discarded it. A bill to put a price ceiling on domestic oil production was up for a vote in a Senate committee. That was weak but a possibility. The South Viets were claiming a resounding victory at Xuan Loc, wherever that was. He tossed that one too. Senator Humphrey declared that we should establish a separate U.S. Department of Education. There'd be some interest in that. The Durance County Commissioners had moved the road to the ski basin up a notch on the priority list. Most of the 28,000 subscribers the paper claimed would be interested in that one. And then there was a colorful, gruesome feature on the plight of refugees pouring into Saigon from points north.
It was good human interest stuff, but even as he read it Moon was conscious of how quickly these accounts of tragedy from Vietnam had become merely filler -- like the comics and Ann Landers and the crossword puzzle. A few years ago they had been personal. Then he'd searched through the news for references to Ricky's Air Mobile brigade, for actions using helicopters, for anything involving the Da Nang sector where Ricky's maintenance company was stationed. But since Ricky resigned his commission in 1968, Ricky had been out of it. And since 1973 the United States of America was also out of it. What was left of the war was a distant abstraction. As Hubbell had described it once, "Just another case of our gooks killing their gooks." In the press across America, and in the Morning Press-Register of Durance, Colorado, the war was no longer page one.
But it was still page one sometimes at the Press-Register -- until last month. Ricky was still in Nam, a player on the sidelines. That made Moon interested and made him think the Press-Register's readers would also be. Now Ricky was dead, no longer running R. M. Air and fixing helicopters for the Army of the Republic of Vietnam just as he had fixed them for the U.S. Army. Probably the same copters, in fact. But as Ricky had said in one of his rare letters, he was "getting a hell of a lot more money and a hell of a lot less aggravation from division headquarters." There was a kickback to ARVN brass, but Ricky considered that "the equivalent of an income tax."
Ricky had said more. He had said, Come and join me, big brother. Come and join the team. Join the fun. It would be like old times. He'd said, South Nam is going under, and fast. Soon there'll be no more fat contracts from ARVN, but there will still be plenty of need for what R. M. Air can offer. Help me get this outfit ready for the change. And he'd said (Moon remembered the exact words), "R. M. Air is no good for slogans. We'll rename it M. R. Air, for Moon and Rick, and call it Mister Air. I'll do the business, you keep the engines running. Come on. With all that money she's married to now, Mom doesn't need you anymore. But I do."
Which was just Ricky buttering him up. Their mother had never needed him. Victoria Mathias wasn't a woman who needed people. And neither did Ricky. But bullshit or not, Moon had enjoyed thinking about making the move, even while he was wondering why Ricky had invited him. But he had never answered the letter. There hadn't been time.
"That Arkansas twister is looking better," Hubbell said, inspecting the copy now emerging from the teletype. "The new lead says they got thirteen dead now." He waved the paper at Moon, looking mildly pleased with himself.Finding Moon. Copyright © by Tony Hillerman. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.
Meet the Author
Tony Hillerman (1925–2008), an Albuquerque, New Mexico, resident since 1963, was the author of 29 books, including the popular 18-book mystery series featuring Navajo police officers Jim Chee and Joe Leaphorn, two non-series novels, two children's books, and nonfiction works. He had received every major honor for mystery fiction; awards ranging from the Navajo Tribal Council's commendation to France 's esteemed Grand prix de litterature policiere. Western Writers of America honored him with the Wister Award for Lifetime achievement in 2008. He served as president of the prestigious Mystery Writers of America, and was honored with that group's Edgar Award and as one of mystery fiction's Grand Masters. In 2001, his memoir, Seldom Disappointed, won both the Anthony and Agatha Awards for best nonfiction.
- Albuquerque, New Mexico
- Date of Birth:
- May 27, 1925
- Date of Death:
- October 26, 2008
- Place of Birth:
- Sacred Heart, Oklahoma
- Place of Death:
- Albuquerque, New Mexico
- B.A., University of Oklahoma, 1946; M.A., University of New Mexico, 1966
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