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It's 124 pages and the first 25 pages describe a couple having breakfast. They have a problem with the toaster. The problem must have got to the husband because the next thing we read is that he has committed suicide. Trying to fix appliances can be pretty frustrating. Then the wife (his third - he went back to the first wife to kill himself) goes back to the house they were renting and practices being a body artist. This involves an act where she stands on stage carrying a brief case and checking the time on her watch. (Some people think this is slow and repetitious and walk out, the world being full of stupid philistines who cannot appreciate significant art). Anyway she goes back to the house to practice and finds a creature living in the attic. It's a small man and she may be imagining him. He takes a walk to pick up some scouring powder (Ajax - very symbolic) and disappears. That's about it. After reading it you can say you've read some Don DeLillo (one is supposed to have read Don DeLillo if one is not to be considered semi-literate) and you don't have to wade through his long novels.
Husband dies. Woman grieves. Grief takes her places she never imagined she'd go. Delillo explores the intricacies of the grieving mind, what things it might imagine, believe, and act on in the face of overwhelming sorrow. Where does one go from here?