Denis Johnson’s latest novel is characterized mainly by its abruptness. It begins abruptly, with a compulsive gambler named Jimmy Luntz getting forced into a copper-colored Cadillac by a large, lumbering man named Gambol. Luntz owes some debts that he’s in no position to pay, and Gambol’s intentions appear less than friendly. Where they’re going or what, exactly, Gambol has planned, is left to the imagination.

“On this kind of trip, you don’t want to ask where it ends,” Gambol explains.

But then, just as abruptly, we find Luntz on the phone with the sheriff’s department, declaring that “A guy’s just been shot.” The guy is Gambol, who now has a hole in his leg, and the shot was fired by Luntz. He proceeds to commandeer Gambol’s Cadillac and drive off, leaving a dangerous thug bleeding on the pavement.

But Gambol lives. He’s gradually nursed back to health by Mary, a former military nurse who’s acquainted with Gambol’s employer, a shady character named Juarez. Since Luntz’s debts are owed to Juarez, and Gambol is none too pleased about his new handicap, Luntz has reason to be concerned for his wellbeing. After all, legend has it that Juarez and Gambol once ate a man’s testicles, and neither of them puked.

During Luntz’s hasty attempt to flee, he meets Anita, who clearly has problems of her own. She’s an alcoholic, for starters, and she’s just wrapping up a messy divorce that leaves her homeless, directionless and mostly penniless. She feels she’s gotten a bum deal from her wealthy ex-husband and his crony, the judge, and she has a half-baked plan to extort a bundle of cash from them.

And so, in abrupt fashion, Anita and Luntz form an unlikely alliance as both attempt to escape their unfavorable circumstances. Meanwhile, Gambol is on the mend, and his growing fondness for Mary does little to mitigate his fantasies of putting bullets in non-lethal parts of Luntz’s anatomy.

“Nobody Move” is a swift read, weighing in at less than 200 pages, and is engrossing enough to finish in a couple of sittings. The book is divided into four parts, and each part is fragmented by frequent breaks. Contributing to the story’s abruptness are the unseen occurrences that unfold in the empty spaces of these breaks—for example, Luntz shooting Gambol in the leg, which precipitates the entire plot.   

Also effective in its abruptness is the dialogue. There are no lengthy soliloquies or treatises, just terse and often humorous exchanges. Johnson doesn’t waste any words or decorate the scenery too heavily, instead letting conversations unravel in real time.

“Give me a chance, friend. A chance to work my magic,” Luntz begs of Gambol near the beginning. “You’re working it now. It ain’t working,” Gambol replies.  

The novel has the feel of an extended short story, like one of the brilliantly entertaining tales in Johnson’s 1992 collection “Jesus’ Son.” It’s much sleeker and smoother than some earlier works, like his 1998 novel “Already Dead,” which tends to bog the reader down with its weightiness.

The characters are also compelling. Although Gambol and Juarez are capable of brutality, the violence in the book is far from excessive. There are not so much good guys and bad guys as there is a whole batch of misguided and desperate people, all with their own self-interested motivations, struggling to save their skin and maybe even come out a few bucks ahead.

The book’s ending is as abrupt as its beginning and, perhaps, leaves a little to be desired. It’s not entirely satisfying, but maybe Johnson wasn’t aiming for satisfaction. Flipping the final page, it seems he could have easily carried on the plot for another 200 pages. But what would be the point? There is virtue, it seems, in being abrupt. —Matt Kanner