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What's in a name? Or The Names, for that matter? A short time-out to note that I finally read Amazons, a work known to (some) contempo-US-lit fans as "the book Don DeLillo wrote pseudonymously for some reason." Money? Kicks? I actually got the great man to autograph my hardback copy (purchased ages ago at a used bookstore for, if memory serves, one laughable dollar) in 1997 after a reading at the 92nd Street Y, but he seemed to grimace as he signed.

How frivolous is this fictional memoir about the first (and very horny) woman to play in the National Hockey League? Very, at times, yet at others, it is "funny" in the chillingly prophetic manner which has made me a lifelong fan of DeLillo's writing. To wit: this novel, published in 1980, ends up with a subplot about Saudi Arabian ownership of the New York Rangers that is astonishingly up-to-date, and about midway through (pg. 209, to be precise), there is a riff about Saudis, Afghans and Kurds that had me double-checking the copyright date at the front of the book. Ladies and gentlemen, DeLillo is our most prescient author of fiction, even when he is just doodling.
posted by Red at 9:25 AM