Oh fuck yes. So so good. A few years back I tried to read White Noise but it just didn't take and I gave up a chapter in, thinking DeLillo was just going to be one of those authors that wasn't for jezzaboogie. Well, I was wrong. I freakin loved this book. I love the main character (forget his name, ha ha) and love his "ego" moments. Especially loved the scene where he is filming in the carpark and the actor guy drives by with his girlfriend, stops, comes and check out what's going on, and while sitting on the bench the main character (forget his name) has a very drawn out, beauitfully detailed and described "ego moment"; rubbing up softly, discretly and surely with the actor guy's girlfriend. It's brilliant.

I loved this the most:

One day I was trying to get around an old man who kept drifting toward the curb and blocking my path and suddenly I found myself shouting at him in my own head, shouting inwardly and silently: LOOK OUT! LOOK OUT! I never actually spoke the words. I just shouted them mentally. I began to do that all the time. LOOK OUT, I would say to people. MOVE ! MOVE! And I could see the words in my head in big block letters like in a cartoon. Then one day a woman slowed down suddenly and I almost crashed into her. I found myself shouting a new new word in my head: DIE! If I had said it aloud she probably would have died. It was really a hideous inner scream and I could see the word in my head in red letters with a big exclamation point. I began to realize I was abnormal. I was person who walked alng the stree metally DIE at innocent people. After several months of this I tried to make a conscious effort to stop shouting the word. But it was too late. It just popped into my head automatically. DIE! DIE! I'll tell you the kind of person I was. I was the kind of person who's always falling in love with the wives of his best friends.

Fucking cracked me up big time.

One criticism would be that the main character(forget his name)'s character is (perhaps) a teeny weeny bit ill-defined and flismy. When I think of him, he is a different guy at the start of the book that he is at the end. Although, that might be the whole fucking point of the book, who knows (and due to travelling disruptions I did basically read this book over two disjoint weeks seperated by two conjoined weeks.)

I've tried to read Don DeLillo, I've heard he's good, but he just doesn't do it for me. ( )

A young ad exec looks for himself in the heart of america. ( )

After all the ranting and raving about DeLillo, I was disappointed. I found this book to be pretty dull and tedious, and way too much like On the Road for my taste. ( )

Don Delillo's first novel is less a novel than snippets of a long conversation. It sort of runs like a videotape that is put on fast forward ten minutes for every five minutes you're allowed to watch. This storytelling approach is appropriate since that is essentialy what the novel is.

David Bell is living the American dream. At twenty-eight, he is a highly influential television executive. He is handsome and popular. He is divorced, but he and his wife are still very close and probably better friends now than they were when married. But despite all tht is right, there is something in David's ideology that is very damaging to those around him. Ultimately, this ideology is damaging to himself as well.

An assignment to travel to Arizona and film interviews with Navaho natives turns into a nightmare that he cannot wake from when he decides instead to film an autobiographical piece in all of the small towns he passes through. The novel reads like it might be the segments he has chosen not to film: long conversations with friends and strangers, midnight ramblings from radio hacks, recollections that don't seem to have much depth until you compare how vastly normal they are to the craziness around us.

This is not Delillo's best, but neither I suspect is it his worst. Well-written, without an unoriginal line to be had anywhere, but this novel, in the end, really turns out to be nothing more than yet another existential angst piece. ( )