“In magnificently stark and evocative prose, Rapture tells the story of a lonely youth who joins a tribe of lost boys led by an enigmatic veteran waiting for the end of the world.”
— Hannah Tinti
At sea in his new life after his parents’ divorce, 11-year-old Hank tries to distract himself by spying on a neighbor, a young man recently returned from Vietnam.
To Hank, Curt Lenhart is a figure of romance—a real-life war vet who drives a magnificent red T-Bird—but there is also something mysterious, perhaps even sinister, about him. Hank discovers tantalizing clues. An apocalyptic passage from the Book of Revelation scrawled on a scrap of paper. An aerogramme, sent from Vietnam, exhorting Curt not to lose hope; he’s been “sent back to the world” to complete God’s mission.
Hank becomes obsessed as his isolation grows. He takes risks and imagines a scene of Vietcong torture if he’s caught. But then he is caught, snooping around one night in the Lenharts’ garage, and rather than hurt him, Curt brings him in on the secret.
The aerogramme is from a friend in the war. No ordinary friend, Donny Redmond was a prophet. The real deal, Curt tells Hank in all seriousness. “The Old Testament kind” whose visions all come true. And Donny prophesied that other men would die, but he and Curt were special to God, called to play an important role in the already-unfolding End Times.
Yet Donny did die, and Curt is lost back in the world without him. He comes to believe that Hank has been sent by God, to help him, and Hank, starved for connection and a sense of belonging, wants it to be true.
Soon a ragtag “cult” of latchkey boys has formed around Curt, with Hank as self-styled second in command. He’ll do anything to keep Curt’s affection, and so becomes a collaborator in shaping the messianic vision and an accomplice as they careen toward violence.
Winner of the Harvard Review Chapbook Prize
“It’s seemingly a very narrow focus, about a boy and his neighbor . . . but it’s also a story of our country, our values. It’s a story about the consequences of war, the consequences of being human, of being hurt, and of surviving.”
— Prize judge Lily King at the launch,
Woodberry Poetry Room, Harvard