Just finished reading Underworld. De Lillo can be modern, dark can write about the Bronx and the surreal [the condom store] but he can also be tender. Here is the main character talking about his Mom after her death:

When my mother died I felt expanded, slowly, drably over time. I felt suffused with her truth, spread through, as with water, color, light. I thought she’d entered the deepest place I could provide, the animating entity, the thing, if anything, that will survive my own last breath, and she makes me larger, she amplifies my sense of what it is to be human. She is part of me now, total and consoling. And it is not a sadness to acknowledge that she had to die before I could know her fully. It is only a statement of the power of what comes after.

P.S. I will buy this book. I will reread this book.

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