What makes a work a masterpiece – its execution? its story? its use of language? its handling of dialogue? or perhaps something more abstract like the feeling I got from this novel by Don DeLillo, of being cursed, of belonging to a doomed species and needing more than ever a redemption or a point of escape? Here appears his almost invisible kinship with Dostoevsky, the author stains us like Dalmatians’ dogs or worse (like lepers) and at least after reading it we will no longer be able to wallow in the garbage we have been creating over generations without having a huge itch in our soul -and these last generations are so obsessed with saving the planet where they have defecated their toxic garbage, they are simply blaming others and washing their hands, accusing the one that was and releasing the next until becoming the one that was and in spite of everything all of us have a glimmer of hope and it sneaks in the illusions of miracles on billboards,always about to be discovered as frauds and not to be afraid of it, the crowds gather, shooing away their cynicism and come out of the dumpsters, to grab hold of the last lie or perhaps, the impossible rebirth from the radioactive ashes.

Many laws and courts, has nihilism. Passive Voice.comD