{"id":2323,"date":"2005-01-23T08:44:31","date_gmt":"2005-01-23T13:44:31","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/?p=2323"},"modified":"2015-05-16T21:35:39","modified_gmt":"2015-05-17T01:35:39","slug":"dear-don-de-lillo","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/?p=2323","title":{"rendered":"Dear Don DeLillo:"},"content":{"rendered":"

First off, let me just say, I loved White Noise: (Penguin Classics Deluxe Edition)<\/a>\"\"<\/i>. Wonderful book, and you certainly are a fine fine writer.<\/p>\n

This is not in dispute.<\/p>\n

I am now 3\/4 of the way through Underworld: A Novel<\/a>\"\"<\/i>, and I have one message for you:<\/p>\n

You need an editor. Or … you probably had an editor. Right? So then you need to LISTEN to your editor.<\/p>\n

The opening of that book, the 1951 playoffs game, is one of the most stunning sequences of writing I have ever read. I could not believe my own eyes … I was EXCITED by it. I felt PUMPED.<\/p>\n

6,000 pages later, I am exhausted.<\/p>\n

Why am I supposed to care, again, about Bronzini, the chess teacher? He disappeared from the book for about 800 pages, and now he’s back … and I can’t even remember why he was important in the first place.<\/p>\n

And what about all of those old planes out in the desert? Are you ever gonna write about THOSE again? Because that was pretty dern cool. But that was on page 70. It made me feel, then, like this book might be … oh … you know … important. And judging from all the press you have received, this book IS important.<\/p>\n

But I’m telling you one thing:<\/p>\n

The “Delete” key is your friend. Your editor is your friend.<\/p>\n

Your. Book. Is. Too. Long.<\/p>\n

And I have now put three stupid months of my life into this thing … and now I’m PISSED that the next chapter is one that stars Bronzini, the chess teacher, and I feel exhausted, and unwilling … but I have put so much damn TIME into this book … that now completing it feels like a duty and a chore.<\/p>\n

I do not want to throw out the baby with the bathwater, my friend. You are a stunning writer. You know how to turn a phrase. There are startlingly beautiful passages. Sadly, the book is so long I can’t remember what they are right now, where they are located, and why I thought they were startlingly beautiful.<\/p>\n

There is no main character. Okay. So that’s probably your point. Some random point about Americans during the Cold War … a generational thing, a look at our country at a certain time … a cross-section of people … yadda yadda.<\/p>\n

And so, even though that opening, Mr. DeLillo … that OPENING … the OPENING of your book … is pretty much beyond compare …<\/p>\n

the rest of the book just don’t hold up.<\/p>\n

I am gonna finish the damn thing, because now I’m pissed. I can’t leave the last 200 pages unread, after the commitment I made to the rest of it …<\/p>\n

but I just think you should know, Mr. DeLillo, that this one reader is annoyed and exhausted by your masterpiece.<\/p>\n

I’m not a person who needs books to be short. I can read long books. Sure, man, no problem. But at this point? In your magnum opus? I look back longingly on the days of White Noise<\/i> because THAT BOOK IS SHORT. BLESSEDLY SHORT.<\/p>\n

Thanks for listening.<\/p>\n

Best,<\/p>\n

Red<\/p>\n

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