There are dead stars that still shine because their light is trapped in time. Where do I stand in this light, which does not strictly exist? * “In a land of chunky, garish, anxiousto-please books, Don DeLillo’s thirteenth novel, Cosmopolis, is physically cool, as sleek and silver-touched and palely pure as a white stretch limo,…

via John Updike on Don DeLillo’s Post-Christian Search for Order — Literary Hub