If I had my way, as soon as you clicked on my review, this song would blare from your speakers: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4N3N1M.... The video is truly amazing, and I would rather you watch it than read my seemingly nonsensical ramblings.

This book is a complex and multi-faceted work. It smells like napalm, creating a sense of intensity and danger. It sounds like air being slowly released from a balloon, perhaps symbolizing the deflation of ideals. It tastes like the ashes of the American dream, hinting at the disillusionment and decay within the story.
I wander the city, with invisible earmuffs blocking out the sounds, my eyes glued to the pages, and a smile glued to my face. People look at me curiously, as if they want to know my secrets. I promise not to tell. Closer. Let me whisper in your ear. I’ll only give you glimpses.
Heinrich Gerhardt Gladney is a cynic, and I am eager to get inside his head. We are all suffering from brain fade, lost in a world of confusion and uncertainty.
The Airborne Toxic Event. Is it a cool name for a band? These guys thought so, but not if you look like that.
Fear of death, fear of life, consumerism, commercialism, communism, and a Toyota Celica. Murray is a comic genius, presenting his ideas without frills. The pills won't save you. Orest Mercator is going for the record, but snakes bite.
Elvis versus Hitler. How about a hybrid? It might look like this.
Where were you when James Dean died? Dylar, the most photographed barn in America, Babette's very important hair, car crash seminars, déjà vu, asking the big important questions, and pointless conversations.
Strip malls, cable TV, sex and death, death, life, death.
"et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. In the midst of life we are in death et cetera. etceteraetceteraetceteraetceterainthemidstoflifeweareindeathetcetera…"

Once again, the well of publication springs forth, once again the covenant of the author is made, and once again an extraordinary book is born.

Berk, a relatively tall and long book, which at first glance we might think will be difficult to finish, but from the very first pages, the book captivates the reader.

The book consists of three parts. We don't have an exact time line for these three parts, but if I were to classify it according to my own style (without spoiling the story), I would say:

Part one: Before the event occurs

Part two: During the event

Part three: After the event

Now, what this event is, you will discover by reading the book yourself. I don't have the habit of spoiling the stories of books! :)

The first part of the book is bright, colorful, a bit happy, and somewhat ordinary... The reader feels good while reading it.

The second part makes the reader experience stress. Events occur that make the reader feel uneasy.

And the third part is the darkest part of the book! A part that is sad, unhappy, dull, and exhausting!

In the third part, the book reaches the peak of its postmodernism, and the reader feels that beautiful melancholy.

In all three parts of the book, there are valuable discussions about philosophical topics among the characters in the story, from which we can learn some lessons.

Discussions about the fear of death, about loneliness after losing a life partner.

Interestingly, all these conversations take place in supermarkets among the characters! On the paths of the university! Or behind the dining table inside the house!

Although the story itself is a bit fragmented and lacks coherence, but well, that's what a postmodern novel is like!

There is no news about the beautiful descriptions of the rainy streets.

There is no news about the physical descriptions of the heroes of the story.

There is no news about writing several pages about the majestic poplar and pine trees and the dewy meadows.

Even according to the friends who wrote reviews about this book, there is no news about the obsessive characterizations!

We get to know the characters of the story little by little and as needed, and that too in the course of the story's development!

A strong and captivating beginning, events full of tension and attraction, and a good ending.

This book has become one of the best for me. Five full stars.

From the text of the book:

Finally, one question remains. A person says goodbye to others throughout his life, but how should he say goodbye to himself?

It is extremely difficult to comment on this book. Talking about the plot would simplify the novel, which is rich in sociological and even philosophical reflections that are mainly expressed in the dialogues between the protagonists. These dialogues are always profound despite taking place in the daily life of an American family. Every word is precise and incisive as if it has its own reason for being. For this reason, reading requires particular care and attention, and it is always for this reason that it is impossible to summarize its content without losing its power.

The theme is concentrated in the synesthesia that gives the title to the book: we are immersed, in our daily lives, in an uninterrupted background noise. Just as white contains all colors, it encompasses within itself the anxieties and fears that loom over our existence, starting from the catastrophes that we can encounter every day in the performance of daily gestures - the radiations of televisions, radios, microwave ovens, mobile phones - up to those, amplified by the media, of an environmental nature. In the face of these, the anguish must be exorcised by spending long hours in line among the opulent shelves of supermarkets in search of products that can take the place of the unhappiness in which we flounder, on the suggestion of misleading advertising slogans: "stories of supernatural and extraterrestrial facts. Miraculous vitamins, cures for cancer, remedies for obesity. The cult of stars and the dead." And finally, there is the greatest fear, the fear of death, that fear that pursues us and will always pursue us, disguised as neurosis or even clothed in an intellectual mantle - as happens to Jack Gladney, a university professor of Hitler studies, the man who has been the greatest bearer of death in history. In the face of it, there is no substitute or medicine that can hold, every attempt to overcome it is doomed to failure. The only defense is camouflage, removal, burial to survive. This is why "it is not surprising if we are confused, disconcerted, destroyed."

Although written in 1984, the topicality of the novel is impressive, and it can be considered a mirror of the civilization at the end of the millennium; just as universal and endowed with introspective power are the reflections that the reader is led to make together with the writer on every page.

**"Life 'During' Life"**

I cannot deny that I have struggled a bit in understanding (assuming I have understood them...) every book by DeLillo that I have read.

This "White Noise" from 1985 is a relatively simple and pleasant novel to read on a first level, even though one realizes almost immediately that the situations described are simply absurd and almost comical.

Parents less sensible than their little children, excellent Hitler scholars who do not know German (and who never study it), relatively young spouses who talk and behave like octogenarians (the most sensual phrase is: "Who will die first?"), nuns who do not believe, husbands who when the wife confesses to adultery ask "Do you want a chocolate?" etc.

But all this, curiously, takes a backseat. Or rather, this almost unreal context simply amplifies the reflection on what the true meanings of the book can be. The fear of death, above all, which we tend to combat in many ways: with technology (which distracts us from the thought of the end), with medicine (trying to postpone the event), with psychotropic drugs (which dull us reducing our lucidity), with religion (making us hope in a hypothetical afterlife and transforming the end into a simple passage), with violence against others (a kind of mental compensation, if you die I don't die), with compulsive consumerism (shopping temporarily inhibits our long-term thinking), with children (who reassure us with the idea of the continuation of the species).

"We are all aware that there is no escape from death. What to do with such a crushing awareness? We remove, disguise, bury, exclude"

In the end, what DeLillo seems to be saying is that we spend our lives thinking about the end of life itself. As if, after being given a chocolate with an ultra-inviting appearance, we spent our time considering that if we eat it we no longer have it.

Lately I have told myself that one of the parameters to judge a good book is to ask myself, at the end of reading: "Would I read it again?" Well, for this one by DeLillo the answer is absolutely yes.

Mi viene sempre il dubbio. Io e quest'uomo apparteniamo alla stessa specie? Questo dubbio mi tormenta spesso. Nonostante siamo entrambi umani, sembra esserci qualcosa di profondamente diverso tra noi. Forse è nella nostra personalità, o forse è nelle nostre opinioni e nei nostri valori. Tuttavia, nonostante queste differenze, sappiamo che apparteniamo alla stessa specie. Siamo entrambi dotati di capacità intellettuali, di emozioni e di una capacità di ragionamento. Forse dobbiamo cercare di vedere oltre le nostre differenze e concentrarsi sulle cose che abbiamo in comune. Forse dobbiamo cercare di capire meglio l'altro e trovare un modo per convivere in pace e in armonia.

There is a book that has been eyeing the'sagas' section of the bookstore for years. One day, by pure chance, you decide to read it and discover that it is damnably current, almost in a disturbing way.

'White Noise' is not an easy book to read, in any sense. Both from a technical point of view, with its strange deconstructed prose, immediate, full of often unappealing sarcasm, and with respect to the content.

In fact, the plot is the real surprise, the destabilizing resonance with the current pandemic. A terrible unexpected event and the looming fear of death, conspiracy theories and the inanity of mass communication, the terrifying precariousness but also the grotesque consumerism, the refuge in food manifested by the kitchen/supermarket dyad and ultimately the upheaval of the pre-existing life pattern.

I can't say that I fully appreciated it (or perhaps understood it) but surely it is a book that sticks.

White Noise, one of DeLillo's early masterpieces, takes us to a midwest town in America. Here, a professor of Nazism finds himself in the midst of a strange situation as the town is mysteriously covered by a toxic cloud. The tone of the book is that of a black comedy, and DeLillo's writing is truly superb. Despite the fact that the book is rather short and reads very quickly, I'm taking the risk of spoiling the plot by discussing it. In my view, it holds the same rank as Libra and Mao II, along with the other great books he wrote, apart from his masterpiece, Underworld. It's a work that delves deep into various themes and presents a unique perspective on life, society, and the human condition. The characters are well-developed, and the story keeps the reader engaged from start to finish. Overall, White Noise is a must-read for any lover of literature.

White Noise, (1985), Don DeLillo

White Noise is the eighth novel penned by Don DeLillo and was published by Viking Press in 1985. This remarkable work won the U.S. National Book Award for Fiction, firmly establishing itself as a prime example of postmodern literature.

The story follows the life of Jack Gladney over the course of a year. He is a professor who has achieved fame by pioneering the field of Hitler studies, despite not having taken German lessons until this particular year. Jack has been married five times to four different women and is now raising a large brood of children and stepchildren (Heinrich, Denise, Steffie, Wilder) with his current wife, Babette.

Both Jack and Babette are consumed by an intense fear of death. They constantly wonder which one of them will be the first to pass away. The first part of White Noise, titled "Waves and Radiation", serves as a chronicle of contemporary family life, skillfully intertwined with academic satire.

This novel has been published in Iran under various titles such as "Barfak", "Sar va Sada-ye Sefid", and "Noiz Sefid". It has been translated by different individuals and published by several publishers.

"White Noise" has received numerous accolades and has been included in various prestigious lists. It was named one of the top 100 English-language novels published between 1923 and 2005 by Time magazine. It also appears on the list of "1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die" by Garden. In the year of its publication, it won the U.S. National Book Award. In 2006, The New York Times conducted a poll among hundreds of writers, critics, and editors to select the best works of the past 25 years in America, and "White Noise" by Don DeLillo was among the chosen ones.

The story is about a man who has had five unsuccessful marriages. Two of his wives were involved in espionage work, and he married one woman twice. He has children from each of his marriages, some of whom live with their mothers, while the others live with him. The title "Barfak" refers to the presence of a man named Jack, who at the end of the story, learns about the presence of someone but has no memory or knowledge of his face, thus earning him the title "Barfak". The story may resemble the life of a university professor like Jack or perhaps that of others.

The date of dissemination is 06/02/1401 Hijri Shamsi. A. Sharbiani

I have the urge to think about death.

I searched for books about death on Google.

One of them was this book.

In the book, the philosophy of fear - which I haven't finished reading yet - was quoted from this book.

These two signs tempted me to read the book.

Review

Gilgamesh was in search of eternal life and immortality and after a lot of searching, he came to the realization that death is inevitable.

But in the modern world, "enlightened" people know that there is no escape from death. They are in search of

a remedy for

awareness

of death.

Because awareness of death pursues the fear of death and

if this awareness does not exist, man becomes immortal

just like other unaware beings are truly immortal.

On the other hand, in the modern world, death is lurking in the shadows of the world. Danger is everywhere.

The pollution of chemical substances, cancer-causing atoms, and...

In the face of this fear and awareness, everyone has come up with a way to escape

Anti-fear-of-death pills, confronting poisonous snakes, believing in the power of

an imaginary supermarket superhero, taking refuge in charismatic historical figures like Hitler.

But is there an escape?

While reading the book

Point 1: The book has very delicate descriptions and testimonies, for example:

"That time of the year, that time of the day when a small, Egyptian sadness dissolves itself in the fabric of things. Dusk, silence, metallic cold. The loneliness that stabs to the bone."

Point 2: One must be patient while reading it

Point 3: Throughout the book, the sound of the radio and television can be heard everywhere.

Point 4: The children are curious and aware. For example, the deep conversations of Henri with his father

Quotation

"The problem is this. No animal has this disease. This is a human disease. Mr. Grie said that animals are afraid of many things

but their minds are not advanced enough to be affected by this mental illness in particular."

...

He said: "I'm afraid of death. I think about it all the time. It won't get out of my head."

This book was truly a remarkable piece of work.

It was so brilliant, filled with moments that were both funny and sad, and at times, even strange.

It had such an impact on me that it made my brain hurt in the best possible way.

Even decades later, some passages from the book still echo around in my mind.

The scenes and phrases that once confounded and fascinated me now bring a smile to my face.

I often find myself wondering, was this book a simple barn, a place to store ideas, or was it a true piece of art, something to be admired and cherished?

It's a question that I may never fully answer, but one that continues to intrigue me every time I think about this wonderful book.

I added this book to my 2009 Literary Resolutions List. This list consists of 15 books selected from Time's List of the 100 Greatest Novels since 1920. I initially thought it was a novelization of the movie where Michael Keaton hears dead people. But I was mistaken.

I truly didn't like this book. It bothered, irritated, and grated on me.

The book follows Jack Gladney, a professor of Hitler Studies (a joke that is overused throughout the entire book) at an eastern college. He is on his fourth marriage to Babette, and they have a blended family with children from different marriages. The children are all precocious and completely absurd, speaking in television-gleaned soundbites. They come across as robots, like Haley Joel Osment in A.I.. Maybe this was intentional; I don't really care.

There is an "airborne toxic event" caused by a train accident that forces the Gladneys to evacuate their home for a short time. According to the book flap, this was supposed to be a central event in the novel, but this novel has no core. It just sort of wanders on, supposedly a sharp satire of our consumer-driven culture.

I initially enjoyed the book. In fact, the opening chapter describing the line of station wagons pulling up to college at the end of summer is timeless. Written in the 80s, it is still relevant today. However, the book becomes more tiresome as it progresses. There are countless trips to the grocery store, where DeLillo's characters, including the insufferable Murray, can wander zombie-like down the endless aisles, exchanging self-important banalities with each other. I guess the grocery store is some sort of symbol for our rampant consumerism?

The dialogue is too cute and, at times, terrible. For example, Murray - whom I wish would die - says things like: "Your wife has important hair." Yuck.

There are some clever parts. For instance, the Gladney family has a conversation in which each member parrots some information they've heard, but all the facts they repeat are wrong in some way. It's a situation that neatly anticipates Wikipedia and the internet age, where everyone is an expert and everyone is full of it. However, the second or third time DeLillo returns to this same setup, it gets old.

I really hated, hated, how Jack and Babette kept addressing each other in the third person.

Jack: "This is not the purpose of Babette."
Babette: "This is not the purpose of Jack."
ME: Drinks the bottle with the skull and crossbones label.

It should be noted that I am inclined to dislike satire. When it is done well, it can be funny and insightful. However, due to the nature of satire, it can never really be transformative. The characters are not really people but rather mouthpieces for the author. The didacticism turns Jack and Babette and Murray (damn him to hell) into theme-spouting robots. I didn't care for them at all. Well, that's not entirely true; I kind of wanted them all to die so the book would end and I could read something else.

My hesitation in reviewing this book comes from the inevitable fear that I've missed the whole point. This book is highly regarded and has been well-reviewed. Maybe I'm the problem, not White Noise. Considering it was written by the great DeLillo, this is quite possible. I think I do understand it, though. It's a postmodern critique of our culture, with freshman philosophy masquerading as deep insight.

While acknowledging the flaws of our "hypermediated" culture, I think it's a bit elitist and obnoxious to completely condemn it. DeLillo's many ciphers - er, characters - speak in a kind of code they've taken from television, radio, tabloids, etc. He points out the negatives of our overly wired, plugged-in lives. To which I say, in the language of our times, whatever. To be sure, there is a certain worrying narcissism in our culture, where people want everything "on demand" and tailored to their personal tastes (to the point where, at times, no one else matters). It also seems impossible for a person to walk 25 feet without simultaneously listening to their iPod, talking on a Blue Tooth, and Googling on a Blackberry. Still, there are great benefits. I like living in a wired, plugged-in culture. I like that I can go on the internet and read The Histories of Herodotus, or watch The History Channel and see how they built the Eisenhower Interstate System. We live in a world where the most ordinary person has a whole universe of knowledge right at their fingertips, waiting to be explored. Certainly, there is a lot of "white noise" that comes with this often-unfiltered universe, but it's better that it's there, to be sorted through, than not available at all.

Part One: Discovery in a National Book Store (with a movie review at the end)

Some books have an incredibly profound impact on the reader. They have the power to change the way one thinks, and years later, the reader can still remember the book crystal clear in their head. For me, that book is Don DeLillo's “White Noise.” It was unlike anything I had read at the time, and I became a little obsessed with it.

As best as I can estimate, it was eight years ago when I found myself in the fiction section of Barnes and Noble. It could have been in any one of their stores across the world since they all look the same inside. I believe they even have the paint color on the walls copyrighted. But that day, I was in the Downtown Pittsburgh store. I was unable to decide if the book I held in my hand, “The Confederacy of Dunces,” was what I wanted to spend my hard-earned money on. So, I decided to give the fiction section another try.

My reading at the time consisted of a few classics like Ralph Ellison's “Invisible Man” and “The Grapes of Wrath,” plus some Chuck Palahniuk novels that I was really into. But I wanted to read something different or by a different author. When I came to the D’s, DeLillo suddenly registered in my head. I knew nothing about his books, only remembering a tag on a Palahniuk book I owned that said Chuck Palahniuk was this generation's answer to Don DeLillo or something linking the two. “Libra” had JFK on the cover, “Underworld” was so thick, “Cosmopolis” had a limo, but the cover of “White Noise” caught my eye. The photo of the high light poles in a parking lot and two red slides begged me to read it. I had no clue what the book could be about, but on the back, there was something about modern life and an airborne toxic event, and I was sold. I made my way to the counter, passing a giant Harry Potter display with brooms and spectacles. A girl around middle school age was pleading with her mother to buy her Harry Potter, but I overheard her mother say, “Sweetie, you already have that one at home.” I was out the door in less than five minutes, with no one in line, and caught the early trolley back home.

The way Don DeLillo wrote struck a chord with me right away. The way he described the cars dropping off students at a college campus was as if he was a cinematographer setting a scene in a movie. Then there was how the characters spoke in an intellectual way that examined the modern world. They weren't just talking in relation to the plot; they spoke deeply and unlike any other characters I had read, and their conversations were unlike how anybody talked in real life. I knew then that I had stumbled upon something great and original.

Part Two: Bored at a House Party

I used to wash dishes at a restaurant inside a mall in Pittsburgh's South Hills. What bothered me most about the job wasn't that it was hard and underpaid work, or the fact that no one respected you at work, or even the fact that you went home smelling putrid. No, it was all the uneaten food on the customers' plates that was brought back to me to throw away.

A few weeks after buying “White Noise,” I went to a party after work with just about everybody I worked with. The house where the party was held was lower than the street we parked on, and we had to descend a small set of city steps to get to the front door. I wasted no time and just started drinking. I drank from the keg, had a couple of Red Stripes, and took shots of something I don't remember. I was sitting in the living room, and “Someday” by The Strokes was playing. Everyone was in their own groups talking, and I was outside of those groups. So, I just orbited from group to group, beer in hand, waiting for a point to join in. Most of the partygoers were talking about work, what they cooked, and who they had sex with. I remember someone saying that taking E in the shower was better than sex. Things were becoming rather hopeless, and I was bored. I thought about just saying “fuck it” and walking home. And then, well, then there she stood. A young woman my age who I worked with. She wore her hair in bangs, and like me, wasn't the most sociable at work. And there she was in the dining room, just standing by herself. Needless to say, I made a beeline towards her. I can't remember what I said, but she laughed. We just talked about the party being a bust, that if we just left, no one would even notice. A dude was passed out under the dining room table, which had been commandeered for a beer bong. We said, “Who's that? We don't work with him.” The conversation somehow veered towards books. She asked what I was reading, and I told her “White Noise.” The look on her face I'll never forget. She looked like she smelled a skunk that had just walked in and taken a shit. She said, “White Noise, isn't that that dumb movie with Michael Keaton and the Internet being haunted?” No, I told her, spilling a little of my beer. I told her that “White Noise” by Don DeLillo was a book that had nothing to do with the movie. “White Noise” is what happens… wait, I won't ruin the book for you. She looked at me. I was drunk and told her a little more about the book, how it's about this family in the modern world, content with just consuming things until a train derails and causes a man-made disaster, and the family has to leave their home, their comfortable existence, and is ordered to take shelter with the rest of the town. I looked at her to see if she was still listening to me, and I said there's a part with a father and son in a car during a rainstorm, and the son tells the father that it's not raining because they aren't wet, and the father and son argue like this for a few more lines, and that “White Noise” is just unlike anything she's probably read. We talked some more until my ride had to leave or she left first. It doesn't matter. Two months later, she and I started dating. I can say without doubt that she was the only woman I ever loved, but in the end, she got away or I got away. The day she broke up with me, we held each other in each other's arms and cried. We dated for two years, and I still think of her more than I should because there is no chance of us getting back together. Oh, and she read “White Noise.” She said that she liked Heinrich best of all. How I miss her so.

Today I was at the grocery store, and a child would not stop crying. I just wanted to buy some iced tea. There were two yellow caution signs near the butter and eggs. Hall and Oates played on the speakers above. The fluorescent lights were on, people were pushing carts, some had to bring lists with them. Me, I had no list and didn't know why I was there or why I felt…

The movie that came out at the tail end of 2002 didn't work. Paul Thomas Anderson would have done better, but still would have failed as some books don't need to be adapted into a movie or streaming show. Many books today are written with the hope of a film adaptation. I think this is mostly a bad thing for modern literature or at best, why fiction seems so flat lately. It's all about a movie deal or being autobiographical, it seems.