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28 of 31 people found the following review helpful:
3.0 out of 5 stars
Great Prose but Pretty Dry, April 30, 2003
I should profess that I have never read a novel by Don DeLillo before diving into "Cosmopolis." Sure, I have heard of "White Noise," "Underworld," and "Libra" before, but decided to start with this new, short novel about a billionaire stock tycoon and his trip through the wilds of New York City. DeLillo seems to possess many fans in the literary world, rabid readers who devour everything this guy decides to pass off on the public. I usually see him associated with people like Pynchon or Gaddis, post-modern writers who create sprawling works of endless complexity and dubious quality. Since my experiences with the post-modern genre are slight at best, all I have to go on is my experiences with this book.The plot seems simple enough. Eric Packer, a twenty eight year old Wall Street whiz, decides he wants to get a haircut. Moreover, he sets out on his excursion in a giant, cork lined white limousine with his bodyguards, advisors, doctors, and drivers in tow. Along the way, Packer undergoes a physical examination of a most personal nature, runs into his new wife at various places, witnesses an anarchist protest, gets attacked with a cream pie, becomes emotional about a rapper's funeral, and discovers someone is stalking him with a view to causing serious injury. There is little that ties these events and encounters together, as even the quest for a haircut often drops into the background when Packer bogs down in New York City traffic. Surrounded by computers and an endless flow of information, the billionaire spends most of his time waxing philosophic about the state of the world, the state of his mind, and the state of his attempt to make a killing off the Japanese yen. Ultimately, that is all this novel seems to do: throw out endless noodlings about the emptiness of life in the high tech, over stimulated information age. DeLillo's writing style is the best thing going for "Cosmopolis." Infused with deep cynicism and a measurable detachment, it still crackles with crisp, short sentences that convey much with little ado. The problem comes when the language puts too much out there, when the reader starts to bog down under the endless litany of Packer's mental ramblings. Although this book is extremely short and can be finished in a day, it still seems too long at times. If there is any point to this tale, or at least where the point seems to assume clarity, it is when Packer and his "advisor on theory" discuss the meaning of the ticker boards with their endless scroll of information and the implications of self-immolating oneself to protest capitalism. Eric's accumulation of information threatens to overwhelm his existence because all he possesses is random bits of information. He cannot seem to tie it all together into any relevant meaning other than making money. There seems to be a germ of hope for him towards the end of the story, but most of the book is merely cerebral gymnastics. The message of "Cosmopolis," about a man who has everything but wilts under his own inflated ego and goes off on a rampage, is definitely familiar. Bret Easton Ellis did something similar in "American Psycho," and he did it better. Eric Packer and Patrick Bateman are blood brothers, albeit relatives separated by about twenty years. When will these Wall Street archetypes' meltdowns have finality to them? Probably when the capitalist system finally collapses. In the meantime, we have people like Ellis and DeLillo dutifully reporting the carnage of undreamt of riches on the souls of humanity. Many people out there are quite knowledgeable about DeLillo's body of work and the philosophy that powers them. I can draw no firm conclusions about this author from reading just one of his books. But I strongly suggest thinking twice before plunging into "Cosmopolis." It takes too much effort for too little return.
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11 of 12 people found the following review helpful:
3.0 out of 5 stars
could have been so much better, April 14, 2003
After a year passed since I read The Body Artist, I started anticipating what Don DeLillo would write next. While I found The Body Artist to be somewhat of a disappointment, this is still the writer who thrilled me with White Noise and The Names. This is the man who wrote the incredibly beautiful prologue to Underworld. DeLillo can flat out Write. The basic plot of Cosmopolis follows Eric Packer, a 28 year old billionaire, as he crosses New York City (pre 9/11) in his limo to get a haircut. Such a simple trip takes all day since the President is in town and there is marches, riots and a funeral. At the same time, Packer is told that someone is out to kill him. Confused? Don't worry, DeLillo uses plot as a device to enable him to riff on aspects of society and while the characters do not sound like real people, it is the characters the provide the interest and pacing of the narrative. In Cosmopolis, DeLillo takes on high finance and the lives of the ultra-rich. DeLillo's view is very comic and deeply scathing as he reveals how shallow these lives really are. As talented as Don DeLillo is as a writer, this was not a very engaging novel. While plot and character are merely devices for DeLillo (instead of being the point), in a better novel this is not a problem and would barely be noticeable. The fact is that all of the characters sound the same and given a different name would be identical to the other characters. There is very little distinction between characters. This is not unusual for DeLillo, but again, in a better novel I wouldn't be thinking about that. Cosmopolis is a step back in the right direction for DeLillo (after the awful novel The Body Artist), but would still only fall in the middle of his body of work. This is a middle tier novel from a top tier talent.
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7 of 7 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
A fine book. A worthwhile read. I hated it!, March 5, 2005
I was reluctant to read this novel even though it was highly recommended. That's because five years ago I read and reviewed "Underworld", another of this author's novels, and while I thought that the writing was brilliant, his world view was very disturbing. But I was curious about Cosmopolis. And it was short, a mere 209 pages long, a book I knew I could easily read in one sitting. It took me more than one sitting to read however. It actually took me several weeks. That's because every time I put it down, I was reluctant to pick it up again. Perhaps that's because it rings so true and its blows fall so close to home. And, of course, the disturbing world view I had expected was there in all its glory.
The characters aren't real. They're not supposed to be. Everything in this book is larger than life. And everything has an exaggerated bitter sting to it. The setting is New York City and the geography is familiar. It's some time in the very near future, when big-moneyed corporate executives rule the world even more than they do now. Eric, a 28-year old billionaire is one of them. The storyline is about him setting out to get a haircut and all the action takes place in a single day.
Eric is in a white limousine which is equipped with every convenience the author could think of. He has several bodyguards too, and a market analyst who interprets data from world markets constantly. People visit him in his limo, including a doctor who gives him a daily physical. Eric also manages to have romantic encounters with three different women as well as his wife. He makes choices that have him lose his fortune in the stock market. His car is attacked by anarchists. He has to pause and watch a funeral for a rap musician. And he even gets involved in working as an extra in a strange and upsetting film. And, early on in the book, the reader knows Eric is hurtling towards real disaster.
But the book is more than this storyline of course. It is an indictment of the capitalist system that once held out such hope. It shows the shallowness of the people, making every single character seem like a little marionette on strings and the whole tale one big puppet show.
This is a fine book. It is a worthwhile read. I just can't help it though. I hated it.
Recommended only for literary buffs who relish discomfort.
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