2010/47

Don DeLillo: Underworld (827p.)

In 2006 the NY Times sent out a letter to a couple of hundred writers, critics, editors, and other literary sages, asking them to please identify “the single best work of American fiction published in the last 25 years.” Don DeLillo’s Underworld came in second, just ahead of Cormac McCarthy’s Blood Meridian, and only outdone by Toni Morrison’s Beloved.

Already in the context of the Blood Meridian I had made the statement that there exists a level in English fictional writing only obtainable to people raised in English, and I can happily repeat that statement after having read Underworld. Remember, the English fictional writing space is a pyramid with a broad base and therefore a high peak, and has probably attracted more ‘immigrants’ than any other language.

Underworld is stunningly well written, to perfection, and as to the other axis, the story, I’m sure critics will have had remarks here and there, but no complaints from my end, a story starting with a baseball, a homerun (‘the shot heard ‘round the world’, in a 1951 game between the New York Giants and the Brooklyn Dodgers), and spinning off into a brilliant continent-wide picture of America during the Cold War.

The great baseball novel, and ending a great reading year on a high note.

(I happen to own both a Dutch and an English copy. I read the latter one obviously.)