Underworld exemplifies everything I love and loathe about Don DeLillo. Brilliance, frustration, depth, redundancy. All in 827 mostly readable pages. A book has to be damn good for a reader to put up with it for so long and large stretches of this book are. DeLillo is such a sensory writer; he pens time and memory through sight, smell and touch in such a way as to occasionally leave me breathless. There are passages of this book that will really stick with me. The central conceit […]