Sterile declarative verbal utterances imitate speech and unfurl as prettily as perfect football plays. However, meaning teeters on the edge of blank tautology that in the end declares only the unsaid: the core of modern angst that is Delillo's abiding theme in most of his books. This is speech that does violence to language as the footballers of Harkness' college do violence to each other both on and off field.
In places the novel is hilarious. The football game is a tour-de-force miracle of faux-jargonned gibberish-cum-threnody. There is no thrill to this game. The play is related dispassionately. One character on the bench wonders what they are missing on TV, and in a truly beautiful page protagonist Harkness has a profound religious experience after recovering from a crunching tackle, soul meeting soil.
Reading these interchanges, the phrase 'Loss of affect' comes to mind: the reflective mind protected by carapace of language for speakings sake, just as body armour protects fielded player from aggressive opponent.
Everywhere off the field of play, there is deferral. Characters forgo the world of study to undertake bizarre self appointed projects. The players marvel at a huge insect collection one member starts after he's hunted his specimens all night. Another player tries to learn a Rilke Elegy despite having no German. Protagonist Hakness becomes a dilettante devotee of the nature of total nuclear war, and also devotes himself to learning a new word every day. Certain members team up to form a society devoted to 'the untellable' where making sense means failure. A team member wants to grow a beard but wonders whether to and wanting to because he needs the change it provokes, wanting the 'reality increment' it promises.
The spectre of language games, or sense divorced from content haunts all DDL novels, especially in White Noise, The Body Artist and Point Omega. Here in End Zone, as surely as the football college is placed in a desert, as surely as desertification and Wasteland follows Mutually Assured Destruction, is language similarly dessicated.
Not for nothing does star player Taft reveal at the end of the book that he has given up football to study. Mentation is all in the hyper cerebrated world of End Zone. However his choice of subject is intended to chill us: he reads about the Holocaust, thirty or forty books he tells us, but most recently has focussed on the instances of infanticide during the Shoah. If Harkness' focus is on systemic unfathomable violence of total thermonuclear obliteration, Taft's is on the smaller but no less appalling enormities of Mankind.
Most pointedly though, DeLillo might be showing us that a disenchanted age makes disenchanted people: in End Zone, reflection concentrates on the most viscerally real of possibilities and histories - large scale death and suffering - not as morbid obsession but so as to goad a desensitise self into feeling something and anything.
It is to DeLillo's great credit that he makes his dispassionate voice succeed and that his narrative is so compelling. The book was ramping itself up to five stars til about 15 pages from the end, notching itself down to four by books close, but they are four gleaming stars.
Though we might rightly or wrongly, imagine that nuclear destruction has gone the way of the USSR, DeLillo shows us that there's a worse malaise, the diseased self. White Noise was to be the peak of expression for this, End Zone a station on the way to that wonderful book. As it stands, this is a deliciously thought-provoking book, the moreso because this is apparently regarded as one of Delillo's minor works.