(completed May 9) I probably would have better feelings about this book if it wasn’t written by Don DeLillo (I still resent him for making me read the 1,000+ pages of crap that was Underworld). Certain scenes, especially the warped conversations among the children, make it a worthwhile read but at the end it left me feeling empty and depressed… but I think that was the point. The main problem with reading it now is that his dissections of modern consumer culture and of fear (of death, being alone, the unknown, weird chemical attacks, etc.) seem very dated and obvious – I think it was written in 1985. So DeLillo’s attempts to be thought-provoking kind of don’t work anymore (such as one major plot point turning on an imagined mystical pill that eliminates fear of death – I bet that probably exists now – did they have Prozac in 1985?)... but some of the set pieces are pretty hilarious. Don DeLillo still sucks though.