E' sempre un piacere e allo stesso tempo una sfida leggere De Lillo, un autore superbo che ho scoperto tardi. His works are like hidden treasures waiting to be unearthed.

Il "rumore bianco" che dà il titolo al libro non è altro che il rumore della società postmoderna americana, il rumore delle lavatrici, degli elettrodomestici, della Tv e dei modelli che propina. It is the constant background noise that fills our lives, numbing our senses. Fino a quando... non accade un evento che metterà in discussione tutto. This event is like a thunderbolt that shatters the complacency of the characters.

Un evento che porterà la famiglia Gladney a porsi domande sulla vita, l'incertezza del futuro, la morte, la vita stessa. They are forced to confront the fundamental questions of existence. La trama è quasi inesistente, ma la bellezza, il genio di De Lillo sta proprio in questo, nella sua capacità di raccontare una storia che ci invita a dare una risposta alla seguente domanda: "Bisogna che gli venga detto che deve morire, perché uno possa cominciare a vivere in tutta pienezza la propria vita". His writing makes us reflect on the meaning and value of our own lives.

Ai posteri, l'ardua sentenza. It is a challenging statement that leaves a lasting impression on the reader.

Oh hey,

Here comes yet another addition to the collection of clever, self-aware books penned by middle-aged white guys. You might be wondering, how is this one? Well, it's filled to the brim with existential angst, thank you for asking. But don't worry, it's also lightened up with some witty wordplay. Oh, you exclaim, so it's just like the others? Well, yes, pretty much.

Let me tell you something, man. Middle-aged white guys. They can be clever at times, no doubt about it. But the thing is, they're just so overly conscious of it all. It makes you wonder if it's possible to be self-deprecating and yet, at the same time, give yourself a pat on the back for being so self-deprecating. It's a bit of a conundrum, really.

Undeva intre 3 și 4*.

As usual, I really liked the prose. DeLillo writes at least at the level of Updike or Cormac McCarthy. He has a very sharp sense of observation and expresses his thoughts fluently, hitting the target right in the middle without any problems. The subject is very relevant today, perhaps even more relevant than 40 years ago when the book was published. It talks about the postmodern horror of the civilized man, constantly bombarded with information (sometimes contradictory), caught in the trap of a whirlwind that creates a deep state of anxiety and despair from which he can only get out by dying (and maybe not even then). The television and radio that constantly emit various information, the people with access to information that they share truncated with the main characters, the dangerous events that take place around them and the absurd situations that even the authorities generate in useless efforts to seem that everything is under control, all contribute to the creation of an atmosphere of panic and feelings of impotence, of frustrating expectation... it is something absolutely terrifying.

And then comes the dialogue, with which I have a problem. A huge one. On page twenty this happens: “Your wife’s hair is a living wonder,” Murray said, looking closely into my face as if to communicate a deepening respect for me based on this new information. “Yes, it is,” I said. “She has important hair.” The entire dialogue in the book is like this. Full of lines that no living (or dead) person would ever say in a conversation with other people, full of non-sequiturs that make your eyes bleed. If the dialogue had been (and could easily have been) at the level of the prose, it would have been a perfect book. But DeLillo being DeLillo (I have read a couple of other books written by him, the dialogue is always like this, in an absurd contradiction with the clarity of his prose), he has to run his film as he sees fit. I think this kind of approach harms the book, makes it extra-satirical, to the point of absurdity, and it's not at all the case.

Otherwise it's great, and if the dialogues don't take you out of the atmosphere so much, you can appreciate it more than I did.

The book has a very attractive idea. And its events seem to take place in the heart of the modern era. But my problem is not with the sequence of events and happenings because mostly instead of curiosity and asking the question of what the end will be, I am interested in the people and details. The characters are the main weakness of this book. Perhaps because in general, for the author, the payment of character has not been important, but only wants to tell his readers a wealth of words and unspoken things about modern life, the direct and indirect consequences of the digital age, the old and ancient fear of death and its suppression, and so on in the form of several characters. The fact that the man and woman of the story and their friends and dependents and all the people in the book speak in the same way and are all inclined to analyze and challenge problems makes the characters all have a general pattern, without refinement, without their own specific reactions, without a special identity. Perhaps the style of the book does not require such a thing, so in this case, I have made a mistake in my choice.

This book, while having an interesting premise, fails to deliver in the character department. The events are engaging, but it's the people within the story that truly make or break it. Here, the characters lack depth and individuality. They all seem to blend together, speaking and acting in a similar fashion. This homogeneity makes it difficult for the reader to form a connection with any particular character. It's as if the author was more focused on conveying a message about modern life and the digital age rather than developing fully realized characters. As a result, the book falls short of its potential and leaves the reader feeling somewhat unsatisfied.

In conclusion, while the idea behind the book is captivating, the execution in terms of character development is lacking. It's a shame, as with more attention to the individuals within the story, this could have been a truly great read. However, as it stands, it fails to live up to its promise and leaves the reader with a sense of disappointment.

DeLillo's novel is wonderful, albeit uneven. What annoys the most are his dialogues: sometimes they are just some Socratic wisdom and medieval rhetorics. It also gives signs that DeLillo is not very familiar with family life with a bunch of kids. But on the level of images and leitmotifs - it is simply flawless, a fabric of ideas and thoughts. Death as white noise, the fear of absence and the joy of fullness, the world as a supermarket and the hidden fascism of the US as a continuation of Pynchon's paranoia.

The novel takes the reader on a journey through the complex and often chaotic mind of the protagonist. We see his struggles with family, work, and his own mortality. The dialogues, while sometimes a bit too philosophical, add depth and complexity to the characters. The images and leitmotifs are masterfully crafted, creating a vivid and unforgettable world.

Overall, DeLillo's novel is a must-read for anyone interested in modern literature. It challenges the reader to think about the meaning of life, the nature of reality, and the role of the individual in society. Despite its flaws, it is a powerful and thought-provoking work that will stay with you long after you finish reading it.

Let me clarify that DeLillo's "Underworld" ranks among the most significant books I have read. In comparison, "White Noise" in my opinion falls short. It is by no means a bad or mediocre book - I recognized elements of creative inventiveness, philosophical fullness, and literary adequacy.

What perhaps surprised me here - and makes an impression on me as I haven't read it in any criticism until now - is a certain sense of overshadowing in terms of style. It's as if another author were intermittently taking the "wheel", steering the "ship" in directions that weren't always to my liking.

To be specific, there are surrealistic moments, dialogues that are purely Pynchonesque (I worship his grace!), a sense of the absurd, demolition, and chaos, seemingly perfectly coordinated and symmetrically given, yet annoying to my own perspective. The result was that whenever I was giving in to the enjoyment of DeLillo's text, suddenly Pynchon would appear and... undermine the chain.

Precisely this disharmony of style often deterred me from identifying intellectually, so as to enjoy the commentary on consumerism, the absurd, death as a permanent presence of white noise, etc.

Obviously, what -in a way- annoyed me might perhaps be the main advantage of the book for others. I recognize and accept that. Nevertheless, I will choose to remain faithful to the misinterpreted... height of "Underworld".

I firmly believe that artists, particularly the writers whose works I have relished reading, focus on the minutiae. Take DeLillo, Roth, McCarthy, Franzen, and others for example. Their wit and intellect are encapsulated within sentences. For them, a book is born from the ashes. They have a penchant for working on a microscopic level, sentence by sentence. They weave stories, but primarily, it's about the sentences. They manipulate and turn the sentences. That, I believe, is their sole job when they claim to be a writer, and that's perfectly fine with me.

I would say that DeLillo is the epitome of such microscopic writing. He has a penchant for writing plotless books and can be quite self-indulgent. However, every now and then, when I'm having an uneven reading experience, and I come across a well-done chapter, or scenes that are executed flawlessly, or paragraphs that are spot-on, or sentences that are artfully structured, or even just one word that is dexterously used, I tell myself that although the book may not be flawless, the moments within it truly are. And that saves the novel from the reader's wrath. "White Noise" is filled with such moments. Perhaps this is why his books make for heavy reading despite the writing being stylistically easy, endearing, and full of lyrical exquisiteness. It's humane yet somehow not innate. I'm not sure if I can handle 850+ pages of DeLillo in the form of "Underworld" as of yet. However, "White Noise" definitely deserves your time and attention.

Having watched the movie, I truly didn't expect the vast majority to enjoy it as they have now. But I have a hunch that it will become a cult classic in the years (or perhaps decades) to come.

How strange it is. We have these profound, terrible, and lingering fears about ourselves and the people we love. Yet, we go about our daily lives, walking around, chatting with others, eating and drinking. Somehow, we manage to function. These feelings are so deep and real. Shouldn't they paralyze us? How is it that we can endure them, at least for a short while? We drive a car, teach a class. How is it that no one can see how deeply afraid we were, last night or this morning? Is it something we all hide from each other, by mutual agreement? Or do we share the same secret without even realizing it? Do we all wear the same disguise?

This book truly astonished me. I began reading it with no expectations whatsoever, simply knowing that I wanted to explore one of my DeLillo books and thinking this would be an easy starting point.

This book is classified under the genre of Postmodernism, and I'm still striving to fully grasp what that entails. However, compared to the other books I've read within this genre, this one was significantly more accessible. We delve deep into themes such as the fear of death, it has political and social undertones, it's satirical, and I found the writing to be really humorous at times. The first half of the book and the second half were very distinct to me in terms of the events unfolding, but the entire book captivated my attention in various ways. I have a hunch that a great deal of this book will stay with me for a considerable period.

Even though this book seemed easy to read, I didn't rush through it. There were numerous occasions when I simply wanted to pause and reflect on what I had read, and consider how much I related to the situations described. I'm definitely eager to read DeLillo's other works, and right now, "Underworld" and "Libra" are sitting on my shelf, seemingly staring at me and pleading to be picked up when I'm ready.

Edit: I've been pondering this a great deal and listening to podcasts about this book. I'm loving it so much that I'm awarding it 5 stars...

How much does a hipster weigh?

An Instagram.

A-HA.

I have this thought that our brains are undergoing evolution. It seems that none of the information from the internet truly penetrates us anymore. It's as if we're in a speeding car, watching things whiz by outside the window.

We notice stuff, but we can't slow down to absorb it. We can never stop the ride because then we won't be in motion anymore, and moving fast is the essence.

Settling is for the elderly, and no one desires to be old.

Everything is just superficial glimpses of information, forgotten as soon as we see them. Maybe we'll be like that all the time soon.

Unable to remember anything because we're conditioned not to remember. We don't need to remember food, a plot, important characters, our loved ones, or the sky or the moon. Social media will do it for us.

A new growth. A new appendage. The modern flesh.

The easiest way to deceive people isn't to hide the truth but to inundate them with so much information that they can't truly see the truth.

When you crowd the facts with other facts, you can create a kind of dark enlightenment. Where everyone tries to listen to everything and ends up hearing nothing.

End of the world by White Noise.

Sounds like a 90s alternative rock song.

So shallow. So easy. And nothing easy is of any real value.

We complicate our lives by equating effort with quality. We've been conditioned to view our struggle as a measure of value. Now that's a great swindle.

Real top-notch deception.

What was I writing?

Oh yes, a book review. White Noise.

A review? In this day and age? How ordinary. Such hysterical realism.

But yeah, White Noise. The new Pynchon, the modern Vonnegut. The current absurd.

The old ball and chain.

I liked it. It made me want to honk God's nose until it bled.

9.5/10

100 Words in Search of a Precis (For Those of Us Who Prefer the Short Form of Stimulation)

“White Noise” is a comic dramatization of the fear of death. In modern consumer society, we fill our shopping bags, believing it's right as we do it in crowds. It's a collective delusion to distract us from our incapacity面对死亡. DeLillo urges us to regard life with wonder and awe and appreciate each day.

My Review

My more formal review as at 23 January, 2012 is here: http://www.goodreads.com/story/show/2...

In the Ring with Deadly Don DeLillo

Compere: Yes folks, welcome to Gym Combat, Nottingham’s premier gym and home to Saturday Night Fight Night. Tonight, we have a special treat. Former undefeated Commonwealth & IBO Welterweight World Champion, Jav Khalik, is here to introduce the fighters.

Jav Khalik enters the ring to spontaneous applause. He introduces Southpaw Bryant, fresh from his second round TKO of Brett Ellis. The crowd is excited, especially when a woman in a Batgirl costume runs up to the ring and asks Southpaw for his autograph. Southpaw writes down his room number, and the women in the crowd go wild.

But then, a scowling grey-haired man in a metallic cape enters the gym. The compere senses the arrival of Southpaw’s opponent and introduces him as Deadly Don De Lillo. The crowd is confused at first, but when Southpaw mentions “White Noise”, they recognize him and start booing. The fight is about to begin, and it's sure to be a激烈的 battle between these two literary heavyweights.

The author's initial review, which only included a quote from the novel, has already received a significant number of likes. The intention was to review the book after seeing the Netflix adaptation, but the author decided to read the book first. Published in 1985 (or 1984 according to the author's edition), "White Noise" is widely regarded as a seminal postmodern novel.

If you've read DeLillo's later works, you'll notice the wild and fun ride that "White Noise" offers, with its satirical take on popular culture, academia, and literature. The characters' dialogue is a mix of philosophical, political, and sociological musings, while radios blare cryptic messages, and brand names and advertising slogans are scattered throughout. The book's ambiguous ending is likely to polarize readers.

The author first encountered DeLillo with "Underworld" and has since witnessed his literary experimentation and stylistic devolution. While some of his later works, like "Cosmopolis," may not have been as well-received as books, their movie adaptations, like the one by David Cronenberg, have had some success. The author wonders if the "White Noise" movie will be a Spielberg or Cronenberg type of adaptation and if it will capture the essence of the book.

The airborne toxic event in the trailer is the focus of a 50-page section in the middle of the book that seems detached from the rest but has a significant impact on the story. The author also mentions "Floating Dragon" by Peter Straub and the LA rock band Airborne Toxic Event. Overall, "White Noise" has made the author realize the need to read DeLillo's earlier works to better understand him and that writers don't have to please their readers. The author still hasn't watched the movie.

“The vast and terrible depth.”
“Of course,” he said.
“The inexhaustibility.”
“I understand.”
“The whole huge nameless thing.”
“Yes, absolutely.”
“The massive darkness.”
“Certainly, certainly.”
“The whole terrible endless hugeness.”
“I know exactly what you mean.”

White Noise is Don DeLillo's eighth novel, penned in 1985.

Set in a Midwestern college, it chronicles a year in the life of Jack Gladney, a professor renowned for pioneering Hitler studies. He is currently married to his fifth wife, Babette, and they are raising a brood of children and stepchildren together. The couple shares a morbid fear of death and often lies in bed debating which one of them desires to die first.

A chemical spill, an "Airborne Toxic Event" resulting from a rail car accident, releases a noxious cloud over their neighborhood, leading to a mass evacuation. Unknowingly exposed to the toxin, Jack is compelled to face his own mortality and later discovers Babette's adultery as she searches for a cure for her fear of death.

The novel contains profound quotes such as, "In these night recitations we create a space between things as we felt them at the time and as we speak them now. This is the space reserved for irony, sympathy and fond amusement, the means by which we rescue ourselves from the past." and "It was the time of year, the time of day, for a small insistent sadness to pass into the texture of things. Dusk, silence, iron chill. Something lonely in the bone."

The influence and impact of White Noise can be seen in the works of numerous authors like David Foster Wallace, Jonathan Lethem, Jonathan Franzen, Dave Eggers, Martin Amis, Zadie Smith, and Richard Powers. Is this not a strong enough recommendation to read this brave montage of "rampant consumerism, media saturation, novelty academic intellectualism, underground conspiracies, the disintegration and reintegration of the family, human-made disasters, and the potentially regenerative nature of human violence"? Most Highly Recommended 4★.