More verbose than the other works I've read, but the incendiary command of the English language is here in full force. I try to avoid quality statements with regards to art, preferring to say I like something rather than it is good; however, DeLillo may very well be the best writer I have encountered. His works are truly awesome.

Last year I read White Noise which I found amazing, and Point Omega which I found so-and-so, so I decided to try a third DeLillo book and see if I actually like his books.
I picked this one because the description in the back said that the protagonist travels across America with a camera. I was of course partly disappointed because it was not the road trip book I expected but I was mostly disappointed because it was filled with pretentious nonsense from beginning to end.
The first part of the book is supposed to criticise corporations and the greed and the decadence, but it felt more like a description than a criticism. The sentences throughout the book were full of vague meanings and words, everyone was self absorbed and any hint of actual plot and action was just lost in between.
It was painful to read and towards the end I couldn't help but skip a page every now and then.

3.5 | It feels like three or four books in one. I loved the first third- very smart and funny. The observations were wickedly clever! I sense where DeLillo goes in later works, but not sure it all works so well here.

A slow-going, and somewhat laborious, read but worth it. Delillo’s prose is gorgeous, unparalleled in places, and it’s interesting to read this book (themes, style, character) as a precursor to American Psycho.

However, narrative is not the point; gesture is, as is futility and boredom. It’s intentional, not accidental. While not always pleasant for the reader, Delillo is still in control. The most engaging part of the book is the middle section where the main character, David Bell, gives us access to his childhood and adolescence. A previous remove and distance is done away with in this section. It is the span of time where the only significant, meaningful, and vital moments in David’s life take place. Adulthood, with a successful career, respect, wealth, good looks, ease with women (all the makings of the American Dream, ideals hoisted onto David even as a preteen by a patriarchal father), is completely pathologically empty, abjectly dry.

David is making an experimental, shoddily produced film, where he is attempting to re-stage (in slanted, unsettling ways) moments from his childhood/adolescence, casting the random people he meets. The book we’re reading seems like a re-staging of a re-staging, and the sense of frustration, unease, boredom, and fuzziness that readers get from the book evokes the experience of what it would be like to be confined to watching David’s artless and artful film (which watching in its entirety would apparently take three whole days).

Reading Americana felt as long a commitment as watching a 3-day long experimental film, with really good bits, really terrifying and sad bits, and a whole lot of filler shots. But it always felt purposeful, and I always felt in the book’s palm.

I would say it's more like 3.5 stars. I liked it well enough except Book 3 went sideways on me and I lost interest in the character. And then the end just rather depressed me. And I now know for sure I am not a 70s roadtrip story girl. But Book 2 was my favorite. You can see DeLillo's storytelling abilities there.


But it's made me look forward to reading [b:Underworld|11761|Underworld|Don DeLillo|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1334304280s/11761.jpg|2968156] and [b:White Noise|11762|White Noise|Don DeLillo|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1327934706s/11762.jpg|327422].

An overture for DeLillo's body of work, but not his best.