“This may be the whole point of West­ern civilization. How to be afraid intelligently. How to get more out of your fear than the other fellow gets out of his.”

Probably one of the funniest things I've read from DeLillo. Cleo's sexual encounter with a drunkenly passed out man who she has to drag from the Monopoly board to her room on a rug had me turned on with a laugh plastered on my face.

One of the funniest books I've read in ages. And it belongs in the upper half of DeLillo's remarkable oeuvre.
4.5 stars

A tedious novel from a tedious author. Leave it to DeLillo to spend his time writing under a female surname to talk endlessly about the shape and feel of countless dicks.

A little-known and out-of-print novel written pseudonymously by Don DeLillo. Very funny and well worth the effort of tracking down a copy.

An hidden DeLillo. Surely his most accessibile and funny novel, but nevertheless it shows all the typical DeLillian characteristics, from the quasi- philosophical rumblings to the hysteria of contemporary life. There are some memorable characters, some unforgettable scenes and even the parts written by Sue Buck (recognizable) have their own descriptive quality with a hint of nostalgia but, alas, it’s out of print. that’s a real pity

That Cleo Birdwell . . . always "hopping into bed" with guys. I have to love her.

I would say I was definitely interested in reading Don DeLillo writing a memoir about the first woman to play in the NFL. And there are parts of it that are great-- weird turns of phrase and some lovely sentences, flashes of his "big" themes, especially those that crop up in books like _White Noise_, for example, ideas about health and medicine (I wish there was a whole series of medical mysteries, a la the novels of Robin Cook, that DeLillo had written). Some stuff about consumerism, some about consumer churn. A lot about NYC, and a lot of broad pastiche about places that aren't NYC.

But the book as a whole is kind of an eh. I didn't expect it to be serious, but I didn't expect to be bored or find the last seventy-five pages of section two tedious, and I kind of did. There are striking moments throughout, but some of them-- especially the cross-cutting between sex and monologues, while funny at the level of concept, maybe didn't totally work as executed.

I'm glad I read it, but completely understand why some others who read it don't push it on everyone else.

Oh Don DeLillo, you're so silly.

this was enjoyable for the most part, though i do get why delillo didn't publish under his real name. overall a fun book with occasional pseudo-profundity. some parts, especially the sex scenes, are tough to get through.

I literally have spent the last few hours binging this bullshit because I knew that if I had to wake up one more time remembering it was the book I was reading that I would burn the copy in my fireplace. It's bad. Not just bad for DeLillo, but bad in general.

It has glimmers of DeLillo. He starts going on a philosophical tangent about death or something and then all of a sudden we're back in one of the what must be 50+ sex scenes with one of Cleo's (the female hockey player) male acquaintances.

If you took everything that made DeLillo unique and used it to tell a random straightforward boring narrative. This is what you would get. His oddities become grating. The only semi-interesting thing was the Kramer machine near the end, but it felt like it was just dropped in because DeLillo thought some contemporary lifestyle critique needed to be there.

Anyways, I don't want to talk about this book ever again. I need to treat myself to something really good after this hell.

Pretty damn hilarious. Don DeLillo must have had a lot of fun with this one.