To make sure my brain wasn't orbiting the outer limits of literary comprehension, I took a look at the one-star reviews of Don DeLillo's recent "Underworld" and found that many echoed my sentiments about "Americana" exactly. This is the type of book you can only use big adjectives to describe, like, "incredible", "stultifying", "infuriating", "ridiculous". It's a book you should quit reading immediately once your brain clicks on and says, "this isn't going anywhere and isn't going to GO anywhere." It is easily the worst, most time-wasting novel I've ever read. It plays out like an upper-class "On the Road" (which was a pitiful book in and of itself), where a vapid TV executive named David Bell (who could be Patrick Bateman's evil, boring twin) and a gaggle of vacant sycophants go for a drive across America, filming the residents of small towns for a movie. That's the go-nowhere plot, in a nutshell. The thing that irritates me the most is that "Americana" could have been good, but DeLillo is too insistent on churning out wooden dialogue and pointless description that before long, render the book a laborious chore to read. Never mind the fact that DeLillo doesn't seem to put a moment's thought into a single line within these 377 aching pages. In spite of my own anger toward this travesty of literature, I masochistically pushed through it, knowing it would end in even more abiguity and unfunny, self-conscious "irony" than it began with. Bret Easton Ellis and Chuck Palahniuk can be considered disciples of DeLillo's style, but one thing sets them apart--they can actually WRITE, and maintain an audience for the duration of a novel. Read "Americana," put it on your bookshelf, so when having a get-together, you can reveal to your friends the most pathetic work ever published. Thank you.