I was approaching Boise, Idaho on the flight from Atlanta. And as we descended below the lowest clouds, and the snow on the ridges surrounding Boise came into view, I completed this reading of DeLillo’s Players, a novel that is utterly DeLilloesque in its exquisite and precise diction, accurate in its observations of human behavior, revealing of the sadness just below the surface in contemporary life, and a wonderful read from the prophetic master of the most connected and yet isolated culture we have ever seen.