Friday, October 28, 2011

White Noise by Delillo part 2


In a nutshell I found White Noise to be a self-conscious satire with interesting observations but no deeper understanding. And an obsession with supermarkets.
            Jack teaches Hitler studies in a small college town on the edge of Iron City. He’s married to his fourth wife, Babette, and they live with their four children from various marriages. Babette reads tabloid papers to an old blind man and teaches classes in sitting, standing, and walking at the community center. 15 year old Heinrich is skeptical of everything (including whether it is currently raining or not) and is the sort of person who will constantly refresh Google news for the updated death toll in the latest disaster. 12 year old Denise is a miniature adult worried about the medication her mother may or may not be taking. 9 year old Steffie is Denise-lite. Lastly, young Wilder, who I could have sworn was 2 from the way he acts but online sources says is 6, never speaks and, to be quite blunt, comes across as retarded. The story is told from the 1st person POV of Jack who, other than being kind of nebbish, has no personality. Ready to read 326 pages about these people?
            Jack goes about his daily existence until a tanker carrying the dangerous Nyodene D crashes near their town releasing a toxic cloud of chemicals. An evacuation is called for but during the escape Jack is forced to stop for gas, exposing himself for two minutes. (This was a point of difficulty for me because the way the event is described they’re outside the radius of the cloud.) He’s told that this exposure could prove to be a fatal problem at some point in the next thirty years. Then life goes back to normal.
            The rest of the book is more of the first part of the book, except there’s more anxiety about death. (This was in the pre-cloud part too. Jack and Babette like to argue about who would rather die first. The foreshadowing is less shadowing and more penciling in.) Jack discovers Babette has been keeping a secret from him and she manages to belittle his place in her life while loading her confession with an incredible amount of bathos. In the end Jack tries, in his ineffectual and bumbling way, to reassert control over his life, Wilder nearly gets himself flattened by rush hour traffic, and the whole thing fades off into the produce section.
Throughout, brand names are thrown around like invocations, dating the text even more. While looking at clouds at sunset we suddenly get the line, “Clorets, Velamints, Freedent.” Thank goodness for Wikipedia, purveyor of random information. While sleeping, one of Jack’s daughters breathes the words, “Toyota Celica.” I’ve never heard of that particular model but I’m sure their commercials were awesome. Random lines from the ever present TV and radio litter the text until they’re actually coming out of the mouth of a passerby, culminating in a torrent of nonsensical information from a drug-fried character at the end. Rather than being intrusive I liked how these lines remind the reader of the constant barrage of information and advertising that floods our lives. The naming of products out of context was less subtle and kind of silly.
            On the whole, this was a well written book. Events progressed nicely, plots points were wrapped up, and the descriptive passages were very good. His imagery of the toxic event, with the ever expanding cloud lit by helicopters and the refugees trudging along under the falling snow, was very evocative. The prose was generally readable and with only a few stutters flowed well.
            One final complaint: the dialogue was horrible. With few exceptions all characters had the same unrealistic speech patterns. Even a German accented woman eventually started monologing the same way as everyone else. It was like Don Delillo’s voice was coming out of multiple mouths, eventually giving me the creepy sensation that there were no individual characters at all but rather some sort of hive mind parroting the author’s internal thoughts. Like a master puppeteer having conversations with himself through proxies.
            This was a decent enough book but I don’t think it aged well and I couldn’t connect with it. Maybe if I had been more aware during the ‘80’s it would have more resonance with me. I’ll have to read Delillo’s more recent work to see how he’s changed.
*Clorets is apparently a type of gum now mainly available in stores in South America, the Middle East, and S.E. Asia. You can, of course, buy it on Amazon.
Velamints appear to be a mint. Surprisingly, they do not have a Wikipedia page. They do have their own Facebook page which informs all that they’re back.
Now I thought Freedent might be a dental adhesive but it is, in fact, a type of gum. It’s advertised as not sticking to dental appliances.

White Noise by Delillo part 1


I've read a number of books since I last posted but I'm going to focus on White Noise since it's been highly touted. This review is going to be too long. My thoughts about why I don't like the feel of the novel take up a good chunk of it so I'm going to split this in two. First post is on my personal thoughts about why Delillo's kind of a supercilious windbag and the second post will focus more on the book itself.


The blurb on the back of the cover of White Noise describes an everyman and his family jolted out of their complacent, consumerist existence by a man-made “airborne toxic event” which forces them to reevaluate their values and view of life. I started the book anticipating the journey of an average American family forced to abandon their comfortable way of life to flee a disaster of modern society’s own making. As they moved through a growing landscape of logos and brand names, stripped of the trappings of a sheltered civilization they would eventually confront the human frailties that consumer culture hides them from. Their familial ties would be strengthened by the ordeal and they would ultimately gain a deeper understanding of themselves and human nature. Yeah, that didn’t happen. Obviously I’ve never read Don Delillo before. So let’s deal with the story I got instead.
            I must make it clear that I am not a believer in the view of consumerism espoused by the book; that modern man hides behind shopping and the acquisition of things to deny the inevitability of death or that it makes people shallow and stupid. This is partly because I don’t believe that people have fundamentally changed in the last hundred years. For ages people who can afford it have been buying the latest fashion, carriages, furniture, food and drink, pets, servants, etc to boost their ego, flaunt their wealth, and compete with others. It’s just that now more people can afford to join this game what with higher purchasing power and cheaper products. I really don’t think it’s terrible to allow the less than wealthy the pleasure of options and nicer things. Brand names and marketing have obviously become more prolific but this really only seems to be a horrible thing is you believe the pursuit of money and goods is evil. Or, if you’re like Don Delillo and never learned the art of selective attention. Seriously, I contend that most of us had a disillusioning experience with marketing at some point during our childhood and came out of the experience a little wiser and more discerning. Advertising isn’t an all-consuming parasite leeching away at out vitality and intelligence but just a part of the landscape. Amusing, annoying, unavoidable, yes, but without real impact on who we are or how we live. This is apparently not what Delillo thought in 1984 when he wrote White Noise.
            I don’t know how to explain this novel other than to say that it’s very eighties and, to be honest, kind of mean. I admit I can get frustrated at how stupid people can be but, at heart, I find most people interesting and unique. Each person contains a secret world of experience, thoughts, feelings, fears, anxieties, crimes, loves, and hopes and they exist at the center of a web of connections leading outward in an ever-expanding tangle. Each person is a story and each story, if told well, has the capacity to be interesting. The people in White Noise are denied that delicate characterization that would have breathed life into the story and are, instead, caricatures, almost automatons. I know that was probably the point, to show the hollowing of self caused by rampant consumerism but in divesting them of individuality they become difficult for the reader to connect with. Plus, they’re boring.