Underworld: Amazon.de: Don DeLillo: Englische Bücher

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Dieser Titel ist in englischer Sprache.
Während Eisenstein die Kräfte des Totalitarismus und des Stalinismus auf die Gesichter der russischen Völker dokumentierte, bietet DeLillo ein atemberaubendes, zuweilen überwältigendes Dokument der geeinten Gewalt des Kalten Krieges und der amerikanischen Kultur. Er verabschiedet sich dabei von der Sachlichkeit, indem er die Ereignisse und die Menschen wunderbar und zugleich schrecklich findet. Unterwelt beginnt mit einem sehr gefälligen Vorwort, das einem den Atem verschlägt -- der Schauplatz ist das Baseball-Meisterschaftsendspiel zwischen den Giants und den Dodgers im Jahre 1951. Geschrieben in einem Stil, den DeLillo "Super-Allwissenheit" nennt, nehmen die Sätze ihren Lauf, als der junge Cotter Martin die Sperre zur Pressetribüne überspringt, über die Radiowellen aufsteigt, hinaus auf das Spielfeld läuft, auf das Mal zuschlittert, um einen schnellen Ball abzufangen, in die Tribüne springt, in der J. Edgar Hoover zusammen mit einem betrunkenen Jackie Gleason und einem unwirschen Frank Sinatra sitzt, und dort von der zweiten Zündung einer Atombombe durch die Sowjetunion erfährt. Es ist ein völlig überwältigender literarischer Augenblick. In dem Moment, da Bobby Thomson den von Branca geworfenen Ball in Cotters ausgestreckte Hand schlägt -- der "Schuß, der in der ganzen Welt wahrgenommen wurde" -- und sich Jackie Gleason auf Sinatras Schuhe erbricht, werden die Ereignisse der nächsten Jahrzehnte in Gang gesetzt, alle miteinander verbunden durch den Baseball, der immer wieder den Besitzer wechselt.

"Es fällt alles unauslöschlich in die Vergangenheit," schreibt DeLillo -- eine Vergangenheit, die er scharfsinnig, sorgfältig und in reizender Weise zurückruft und rekonstruiert. Ein plötzlicher Sprung vom Giants-Stadion in die Wüste von Nevada 1992 -- Nick Shay, der mittlerweile den Baseball besitzt, kommt wieder mit der Künstlerin Kara Sax zusammen. Sie hatten 40 Jahre zuvor eine kurze und wenig erfolgversprechende Liebesbeziehung, und es sind in erster Linie die Ereignisse, die Nebenwirkungen und die zufälligen Begegnungen ihrer Vergangenheit, durch die DeLillo das Erlebnis des Kalten Krieges filtert. Er glaubt, daß "globale Ereignisse die Art und Weise, wie wir leben, bis in die kleinsten Details verändern können", und als das Buch zurück ins Jahre 1951 schreitet, können wir im Laufe der folgenden etwa 800 Seiten genau sehen, wie diese Ereignisse unser Leben verändern. Dieser sich rückwärts bewegende Erzählstil erlaubt es dem Autor, den Abfall der Geschichte und der Popkultur beiseite zu räumen, bis die reinen Elemente der Geschichte übrigbleiben: die Bombe, Baseball und die Bronx. Im Nachwort, das genauso atemberaubend und überwältigend ist wie das Vorwort, spult DeLillo in eine nahe Zukunft vor, in der schonungsloser Kapitalismus, das Internet und ein neuer unterdrückter Glauben die Mischung aus Schrecken und Euphorie des Kalten Krieges ersetzt haben.

Mit Bruchstücken und miteinander verflochtenen Geschichten -- darunter Geschichten von Straßenkillern, Künstlern, Prominenten, Gangstern, Nonnen und diversen anderen -- schafft DeLillo ein zerbrechliches Netz von miteinander verwobenen Erfahrungen, einen kommunalen Zeitgeist, der -- wunderbar herausgearbeitet -- die ganzen unschönen fünf Jahrzehnte amerikanischen Lebens umfaßt.

Amazon.co.uk

While Eisenstein documented the forces of totalitarianism and Stalinism upon the faces of the Russian peoples, DeLillo offers a stunning, at times overwhelming, document of the twin forces of the Cold War and American culture, compelling that "swerve from evenness" in which he finds events and people both wondrous and horrifying. Underworld opens with a breathlessly graceful prologue set during the final game of the Giants-Dodgers pennant race in 1951. Written in what DeLillo calls "super-omniscience" the sentences sweep from young Cotter Martin as he jumps the gate to the press box, soars over the radio waves, runs out to the diamond, slides in on a fast ball, pops into the stands where J. Edgar Hoover is sitting with a drunken Jackie Gleason and a splenetic Frank Sinatra, and learns of the Soviet Union's second detonation of a nuclear bomb. It's an absolutely thrilling literary moment. When Bobby Thomson hits Branca's pitch into the outstretched hand of Cotter--the "shot heard around the world"--and Jackie Gleason pukes on Sinatra's shoes, the events of the next few decades are set in motion, all threaded together by the baseball as it passes from hand to hand.

"It's all falling indelibly into the past," writes DeLillo, a past that he carefully recalls and reconstructs with acute grace. Jump from Giants Stadium to the Nevada desert in 1992, where Nick Shay, who now owns the baseball, reunites with the artist Kara Sax. They had been brief and unlikely lovers 40 years before, and it is largely through the events, spinoffs, and coincidental encounters of their pasts that DeLillo filters the Cold War experience. He believes that "global events may alter how we live in the smallest ways," and as the book steps back in time to 1951, over the following 800-odd pages, we see just how those events alter lives. This reverse narrative allows the author to strip away the detritus of history and pop culture until we get to the story's pure elements: the bomb, the baseball and the Bronx. In an epilogue as breathless and stunning as the prologue, DeLillo fast-forwards to a near future in which ruthless capitalism, the Internet, and a new, hushed faith have replaced the Cold War's blend of dread and euphoria.

Through fragments and interlaced stories--including those of highway killers, artists, celebrities, conspiracists, gangsters, nuns, and sundry others--DeLillo creates a fragile web of connected experience, a communal Zeitgeist that encompasses the messy whole of five decades of American life, wonderfully distilled. --Amazon.com -- Dieser Text bezieht sich auf eine vergriffene oder nicht verf�gbare Ausgabe dieses Titels.

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Epic 'flawed masterpiece' 23. Juli 2000

Von Ein Kunde

Format:Taschenbuch

I won't attempt any kind of meaningful literary criticism, you can find that in other reviews (beware, it is obvious many of the published reviewers have not read the whole book) and comments, and I'm not up to it. But I will try to explain what the book is. This is the story of America's past 50 years, told from a unique perspective (kind of like a hyperactive eye of God with a 5 minute attention span). This results in a series of interconnected short stories travelling back and forth in time, connected by ephemera (a baseball, garbage, TV shows, and the degrees of separation of all the characters). The story is discovered by tracing these connections, which are made by the actions of the characters (the story is not really about the characters, but about explaining the effects of different forces on their lives).

The book switches between styles frequently. The most disturbing thing many people may find are the switches between first and third person. However, people accept these changes in viewpoint in films... Next is the repetition. However this serves to illuminate the connections between the characters' experiences, and also help the jog the reader's memory to something that happened 300 pages ago. Don't be put off by the change in style after the relatively accessible and electric first chapter, either.

Making it to the end of this book is difficult, because there is barely a sentence that does not serve to illuminate the story in a way that makes you stop and think. But if you do, it should make you think differently about life, what more can you ask for?

Perhaps the most impressive feature of this book is that the author managed to keep it coherent despite its massive size and scope, finally resolving all of the interconnected sequences of events spawned in the first chapter. It is a demonstration of rare talent.

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Living with the Bomb 28. Juni 2000

Von Matthew A. Goodin

Format:Gebundene Ausgabe

Don Delillo does not traffic in plot-driven novels. Delillo specializes not in creating "stories", but in creating vignettes, in creating moments full of weight, intensity and the impact of history. In Underworld, Delillo has brought this specialty to a stunning apotheosis. As a result, attempting any meaningful summary of the plot is not only nearly impossible, it is entirely beside the point.

The opening 100 or so pages - impressionistically describing the final game of the 1951 pennant race between the Dodgers and the Giants as attended by J. Edgar Hoover, Jackie Gleason and Frank Sinatra - is an absolute tour de force: quite possibly the best 100 pages of any book in the last ten years. The omniscient narrative flows effortlessly back and forth between Hoover et al. to Cotter, the man who catches the "shot heard 'round the world." From there, the book jumps forward to the present day (or thereabouts) and flows backward through time, loosely following the caught baseball as it passes hands over the years.

All of this, however, is simply the armature which Delillo uses to explore his central theme: what living with the bomb for the last 40-50 years has done to us as a country, as a culture, and as a society. Using the Bronx as his guide (although one gets the feeling that the Bronx guides Delillo as well), Delillo suggests that the Cold War has created irreparable rifts in our society, has diminished our sense of "connectedness" to each other, has destroyed our sense of community. In his evocative epilogue, Delillo clearly hints that the Internet may create or exacerbate similar ill-effects in the future (I emphatically agree, as I sit here and type out a review that will only be seen over the Internet).

Rich in symbolism, layered in meaning, this is a book that will force you to confront serious philosophical questions, yet it is still a thoroughly enjoyable read, and never bogs down in pedantry. This is not a perfect book, however, and suffers from one of Delillo's recurrent flaws: the inability (or unwillingness) to create a fully-realized and dimensioned character (although Cotter and Shay come as close or closer than Delillo has elsewhere). Again, though, since the book is not character or plot-driven, this flaw is minor here.

I might add that I am not particularly a fan of some of Delillo's other work. I found White Noise to be practically unreadable (some great set pieces, yet annoyingly repetitive and unengaging), Great Jones Street and Mao II just plain boring. In other words, if you have not been thrilled by Delillo in the past, do not let this prevent you from considering this important book.

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If only it had been edited more ... 21. Juni 1999

Underworld is brilliant and beautiful -- in parts. It's worth buying just for the wonderful first chapter, a multifaceted account of a 1951 ball game and its spectators. Here, DeLillo is a great poet and storyteller.
But as I read on, I found myself wishing that a ruthless editor had hacked out about 50% of the book. Many parts are ... well ... dull. Repetitive ruminations by mediocre characters. For me, the scenes in early 50s New York were consistently the most vivid and engaging (and presumably these are closest to DeLillo's own experience). The later scenes often seem empty, washed out, stereotyped. Has American life really become so anonymous and dead since 1951? Is that DeLillo's message? If so, I don't buy it.
Another complaint: DeLillo is given to long-winded observations on topics like the Cold War and the metaphysical status of garbage. Honestly, these Big Ideas are not very original, and they violate that old chestnut of solid advice to fiction writers: show it, don't tell it. What I like in this book are the small ideas: the little nuances of observation, the exquisitely chosen words that reveal a gesture or a moment.
A final whine: the two main characters, Nick Shay and Klara Sax, just don't turn me on. I find them dull. And I wish more had "happened" in this book (yes, I still like narrative and plot).
One way to read this novel in an edited version would be to read the first chapter ("The Triumph of Death") and then all the "Manx Martin" chapters. That creates a nice continuous narrative which is beautifully written, a very fine novella in itself.