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Underworld

Don DeLillo

Paperback | Pages: 827 pages

Rating: 3.92 | 25726 Users | 1873 Reviews

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Title	:	Underworld
Author	:	Don DeLillo
Book Format	:	Paperback
Book Edition	:	Deluxe Edition
Pages	:	Pages: 827 pages
Published	:	1999 by Picador (first published 1997)
Categories	:	Fiction. Literature. Novels. American. Literary Fiction

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While Eisenstein documented the forces of totalitarianism and Stalinism upon the faces of the Russian peoples, DeLillo offers a stunning, at times overwhelming, document of the twin forces of the Cold War and American culture, compelling that "swerve from evenness" in which he finds events and people both wondrous and horrifying.

Underworld opens with a breathlessly graceful prologue set during the final game of the Giants-Dodgers pennant race in 1951. Written in what DeLillo calls "super-omniscience" the sentences sweep from young Cotter Martin as he jumps the gate to the press box, soars over the radio waves, runs out to the diamond, slides in on a fast ball, pops into the stands where J. Edgar Hoover is sitting with a drunken Jackie Gleason and a splenetic Frank Sinatra, and learns of the Soviet Union's second detonation of a nuclear bomb. It's an absolutely thrilling literary moment. When Bobby Thomson hits Branca's pitch into the outstretched hand of Cotter—the "shot heard around the world"—and Jackie Gleason pukes on Sinatra's shoes, the events of the next few decades are set in motion, all threaded together by the baseball as it passes from hand to hand.

"It's all falling indelibly into the past," writes DeLillo, a past that he carefully recalls and reconstructs with acute grace. Jump from Giants Stadium to the Nevada desert in 1992, where Nick Shay, who now owns the baseball, reunites with the artist Kara Sax. They had been brief and unlikely lovers 40 years before, and it is largely through the events, spinoffs, and coincidental encounters of their pasts that DeLillo filters the Cold War experience. He believes that "global events may alter how we live in the smallest ways," and as the book steps back in time to 1951, over the following 800-odd pages, we see just how those events alter lives. This reverse narrative allows the author to strip away the detritus of history and pop culture until we get to the story's pure elements: the bomb, the baseball, and the Bronx. In an epilogue as breathless and stunning as the prologue, DeLillo fast-forwards to a near future in which ruthless capitalism, the Internet, and a new, hushed faith have replaced the Cold War's blend of dread and euphoria.

Through fragments and interlaced stories—including those of highway killers, artists, celebrities, conspiracists, gangsters, nuns, and sundry others—DeLillo creates a fragile web of connected experience, a communal Zeitgeist that encompasses the messy whole of five decades of American life, wonderfully distilled.

Specify Books As Underworld

Original Title:	Underworld
ISBN:	0330369954 (ISBN13: 9780330369954)
Edition Language:	English
Literary Awards:	Pulitzer Prize Nominee for Fiction (1998), American Book Award (1998), William Dean Howells Medal (2000), Ambassador Book Award for Fiction (1998), National Book Critics Circle Award Nominee for Fiction (1997) National Book Award Finalist for Fiction (1997), International Dublin Literary Award Nominee for Shortlist (1999)

Rating Based On Books Underworld

Ratings: 3.92 From 25726 Users | 1873 Reviews

Criticism Based On Books Underworld

With every DeLillo novel I read, I realize that Underworld is the pinnacle of the man's artistry. Every novel he wrote beforehand leads up to it, hints at it, contains thematic foreshadowings of it, and the sixty-odd pages of Cosmopolis I've read are so far from this that it seems DeLillo understood there was no going back to his older style, because he'd already perfected it. This, of course, invites the possibility that DeLillo could release another masterpiece in his later style, but with the

Seems like to most people, Delillo is a love-or-hate proposition. His pace is either relaxed, or his books are boring as hell. His prose is gorgeous, or it's stilted and awkward (or just plain bad?). His dialogue is pitch perfect, or it's unrealistic and/or wooden. His philosophical musings are either profound or so pretentious as to be laughable. His plots are either nonexistent in such a way that you don't even notice, or they're nonexistent in such a way that you want to throw the book at the

I tried so hard. But I just can't. Fucking. Do it. I submit this final plea to the goodreads universe. Give me a reason to keep going, or on page 381 shall I forever lie.

I felt like this was one of those books where you kind of start getting drunk on the words and then you begin to think everything is super deep and has about 100 meanings and everything is interconnected. Then you start reading every sentence about 5 times and get lost in a daydream about how everything is related to waste, nuclear energy, more waste, and nuns. When you finish the book you feel like you've gone on a journey but it's hard to talk about it and your not really sure exactly what

This is now my favourite novel alongside Blood Meridian, 2666 and Infinite Jest. I'm too fatigued and mentally exhausted to write a decent review now, which fact is a shame. Underworld is, to use a quote from Roberto Bolaño's 2666 to illustrate my take on this DeLillo novel, one of "the great, imperfect, torrential works, books that blaze a path into the unknown."Those who will tell you that White Noise is DeLillo's best, or some other short, compact, precise DeLillo work, "want to watch the

I was under-awed this time, the first reading 20-plus years ago. I've held tight with other books holding the same estimation after many years' remove. In "Underworld" there's overreach, to me. The expected synergy never, in my estimation, overwhelmed the many to produce a whole greater than sum. The characters were not up to the task of carrying that 800-plus load in spite of dexterity in setting and moving all the separate but converging storylines. The zeitgeist was there without the manpower

Don DeLillo is a first-rate modern writer: his clipped and adamantine use of words, his compacted sentences and digitalized detail, all come together to tell his stories in a taut and invigorating mannerand he can dissect the quirks and pathologies that are running through our culture, probe the leavenings that have adumbrated modern societies racing towards the western horizon, with impressive acumen. However, I am not convinced that he is a first-rate characterizer, and this aspect of his