Underworld, by Don DeLillo
I know, I know, it was published in 1997. I've wanted to read it for years. Finally, a friend gave me her old copy. I started reading and have been returning avidly ever since. The thing is, this book weighs several pounds. I checked Amazon and found that the Kindle edition was reasonably priced, so I downloaded it and have been reading comfortably for days.
Underworld is unlike any other work of fiction I have read. It is layered and textured, and the unique aspect of reading it is that while doing so I feel as if I am privy to a world that exists on an unstated, nonverbal level. Stretches of dialog suggest a different, somewhat related conversation, possibly conducted in the speakers' thoughts. The scope is simultaneously vast and minute.
I wish I'd read this a long time ago. In case you can't tell, I'm kind of excited about it, and I'm only about one-third of the way into it. Is this The Great American Novel? Maybe.
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