The \"Body Artist\" opens with a breakfast scene in a rambling rented house somewhere on the New England coast. We meet Lauren Hartke, the body artist of the title, and her husband Rey Robles, a much older, thrice-married film-director. Through their delicate, intimate, half-complete thoughts and words DeLillo proves himself a stunningly unsentimental observer of marriage, and of the idiosyncrasies that both isolate and bind us. Rey says he\u0027s taking a drive and he does, all the way to the Manhattan apartment of his first wife. Lauren is left alone, or so she thinks. She is soon to discover, however, that there is a stranger in the house. An eery individual who often speaks in Rey\u0027s voice or in her own, who knows both intimate moments of their past life and things that haven\u0027t yet happened. \"A novel that is both slight and profound, a distilled meditation on perception and loss, and a poised, individual ghost story for the twenty-first century\" - \"Observer\". \"A masterful talent is behind its language, so magnificent in simplicity. Inspiring. God, but it\u0027s a beautiful book\" - \"Independent on Sunday\".
