What is it about 9/11 that turns any book about it into an incoherent, smug, self-satisfied mess? Surely seven years after is enough time to make some kind of sense of what it was, what it meant, what it led to? This book has all the puffed-up intentions of placing the day into context, and making `profound' and `unsettling' observations that will have us all revising our views and stereotypes. What it delivers is lame; a feeble failure of a novel that angers with its' sheer incompetence.
Any book on any large event (see my review of Tin Roof Blowdown) struggles with a basic problem - the event is too colossal for individuals to really understand. Better, then, to tell it through several interesting individuals, rather than try to provide the whole sweep of it. Dellillo picks as his vehicles several of the most annoying, pretentious and dull characters you'll ever meet. Stupid monologue conversations that no human being would actually have; clever-clever references even from the ten-year-old kid; fractured ideas that have no currency in the real world. You simply cannot imagine these people ever drawing breath, in any context or at any time. Therefore, you couldn't care less what happened to them. All I wanted to do was jump in the book and punch them.
Allied to this is a foolhardy and frankly laughable attempt to `get inside the mind of the terrorist'. This is both too shallow and slight to actually be cohesive or relevant, but uses up too much of the book to make sense with the rest of the narrative. It is an unnecessary intrusion that advances nothing.
Why does no author actually have anything to say about 9/11? Is it lack of imagination? Lack of perspective? Lack of skill? Surely there's enough evidence of its' impact and reverberations for someone to say something that isn't either self-evident, or idiotically pretentious crap?
This book joins the legion of other books about 9/11 that purport to be terribly important, but are actually devoid of any insight whatsoever. Since it was trying to say something important about something important, its' failure is all the greater. It is a miserably tedious, empty, air-headed failure.