Video review

DeLillo's signature mixture of splendid prose and jazzy broodings on contemporary life make it a priceless experience even when the pace slows down painfully. There's also some great humor here, and explosions. Would be an excellent introduction to his fiction if White Noise and Libra weren't somewhat fuller experiences.

I was really into this book until about halfway through where the storytelling seemed to fall apart. I'm still not sure what happened to Bill, actually. I loved so much of the first half though, the characters, their histories, their insights, that I might just decide to pretend not to have read the last 100 pages.

I can't deny that Don DeLillo has great way with words but the lack of traditional storytelling prevented me from enjoying this novel.

Καρεν και Σκοτ
Μπιλ και Μπριτα
Βηρυτος κ Νεα Υορκη

Συγγραφεις κ τρομοκρατες
Αθωοτητα κ αφελεια

Που συγκλίνουν? Που αποκλίνουν? Ποιος μπορει να γινει πιο επικινδυνος

Ηθελε να γινει καταφυγιο εναντια στον τροπο που λειτουργουν τα πραγματα , εναντια στη δυναμη αυτου που πλανιεται εκει εξω
Αγαπη κ επαφη...να ψαχνεις σημεια για να αγγιξεις καπως τη χαμενη παιδικοτητα

Φορεας του υιου του μελλοντος , χωρις αυστηρα όρια.
Δεχοταν τα παντα,, πιστευε στα παντα,στην οδύνη, στην εκσταση,στις τροφες για σκύλους,όλα τα περι αγγελων,
όλη την εξ ουρανου ευτυχία των μωρων

Συμβολισμοι και μετασχηματισμοί

Ο τρομοκρατης ειναι αυτος που προσπαθει να σπασει την αδρανεια να μην αφομοιωθει , απο τις κοινωνιες περιορισμένες στην αδρανεια κ την υπερβολη
Υπερβολη , υπεραφθονια απο τα παντα, περισσοτερα αχρηστα πραγματα,μηνύματα και εννοιες απο οσα μπορουμε να χρησιμοποιουσεμε σ δεκα χιλιαδες ζωες
Αδρανεια-υστερια

Κ απο την αλλη Ο Μαο.
Ο Μαο πιστευει πως η τάξη υπάρχει μονο μεσα απο την συνεχη επανασταση
Ο Μαο πιστευει στην εξελικτικη διαδικασια της αναμορφωσης της σκέψης

Κ ο Αντυ Γουορχολ. Η υπερβατικη ματια
Να αποτυπωνονται τα χαρακτηριστικα της μορφης τους σαν εικονα λειζερ καποιου συγχρονου Μποτιτσέλι
Ολοι δειχνουν υπερβατικοι, απελευθερωμενοι απο ορια και καθολου εκπληκτοι απο το που τους εχει τοποθετησει η Ιστορια

Εξαιρετικος DeLillo

Little would have to be changed and the book would probably be burned by Columbia University students today. A book about terrorism, mass cult and following one idea and one person only. Probably I got it all wrong, but guys wake up, don't follow Mao III.

Images can hold sway over large swaths of human beings. Symbols and iconography can influence entire nations to take up rituals, crosses, flags and even terrorism. This is the gist of the entire novel. There is a strong juxtaposition between isolating oneself from crowds and being enmeshed into crowds so much that individuals sacrifice their identity to the bigger body. I enjoyed the concepts presented in this book far more than I did actually reading it. The big conceptual flourishes in the plot were interesting but getting there wasn’t anything to write home about. He wrote with much more force and energy in White Noise that I was left a bit disappointed in this one. I think my main feeling is that this could have been an awesome essay.

За пореден път ме побиват тръпки от писането на Дон Делило. Това е четвъртият му роман, който чета. Нивото е високо - сериозни идеи, умни диалози, умела смяна на перспективата, пророчески мисли и внушения. И всичко това на моменти беше страшно и стряскащо за мен. Трябва да се прочете, за да се разбере.

Главният герой е писател, който се крие от света. Всеки може сам да си предстви какво го очаква, ако е чел нещо друго на Дон Делило. Това, което не очаквах е, че ще получа детайлно и убедително описание на идеята да се “покажеш”, за да се скриеш още по-дълбоко от света.

Сега искам да седна и да прочета наново тази брилянтна книга.

I am a fan of Don DeLillo's artistic ambition and his want to address ideas more profound than simple character study. When Tom Wolfe wrote his diatribe against MFA writing programs and accused them of passing along a tradition of meaningless, nonempathetic stories rather than work that addresses morality and social meaning, he undermined his own argument with his own bare-faced self-promotion of _The Bonfire of the Vanities_, a work that may in essence have fit his own ideal but was poorly structured and almost unreadable in the end.

But Wolfe had an interesting point, proof of which was the simple fact that his statements caused such ire and intellectual retaliation among the MFA community. In the end, Wolfe would have done better to have used DeLillo as his primary example of writing that aspires to his ideal. DeLillo writes about people, but in the broadest sense of the term. He dwells not only in his characters, which is often the stopping point for many short-minded fictioneers with an assumption that their characters are worth reading (which often means that they are not), but also what those characters mean to the society they are in. _Libra_ is a wonderful example of this, as is _White Noise_ and _Cosmopolis_. Even in works where DeLillo's representations remain as just representations and do not engage as characters themselves (_Ratner's Star_), I am always impressed with his artistic ambition. DeLillo has a lot to say about the world, both topically and philosophically. This book, _Mao II_, is one that dwells on many relatively recent events (the Reverend Moon mass wedding, Khomeni's death), but even when read in 2006, these events hold meaning to the central points DeLillo is out to address--the influence of mass character over singular character, and the effect of art on the human psyche (and in this book, he even allows terrorism to enter into the world of art).

_Mao II_ is a work of DeLillo nearly at his best. We deal with singular characters who resonate strongly off the page--there is Karen, a former Reverend Moon cultist who has been only partly relieved through deprogramming. There is Brita, a photographer who deals only writers as her subject. She manages to schedule a session with Bill, a legendary writer who has been self-reclusive and unsure about whether to relinquish his latest project onto the world. And there is his secretary/assistant/connection to the real world, Scott. Every one of these characters, and the characters to come as Bill is drawn into a plan to reveal himself at a benefit for a poet who has been kidnapped in Beirut, distinguish themselves through DeLillo's sharp and witty prose, but they also deal with philosophical concepts regarding society, indentity and art, and it is here that DeLillo is always at his finest. While in books like _The Names_, the characters overconsume the content and diffuse both, in _Mao II_, the characters are sharply intersting because of both their moments of sympathy and antipathy. In short, his characters feel fully fleshed out rather than spokespersons of philosophy, which was what dragged down books line _Ratner's Star_.

The work of any artist must be looked at in its entirety rather than by singular example. A great poet is not one who has written one great poem, but has written a canon of work that has sometimes produced godliness, often greatness, and sometimes total misses. DeLillo can be considered a great writer even in the misses, for what he tries to do often far surpasses the greatest work of mediocre writers who dwell too much in the immediate rather than the universal. _Mao II_ may not be one of his greatest works and may not be pondered and scribed over like _Underworld_ or _White Noise_, but it is a great book, and I think many a DeLillo fan will cherish it for its precision and its thinking.

Mao II is a bleak novel about a world where the moral consciousness of the people are controlled by terrorists and messiahs rather than writers. The writers are in state of retreat because their freedom of speech and expression has narrowed. Their space is now occupied by terrorists. Delillo writes: "What terrorists gain, novelists lose. The degree to which they influence mass consciousness is the extent of our decline as shapers of sensibility and thought. The danger they represent equals our own failure to be dangerous."

Bill Gray, a reclusive writer is approached by a former colleague to negotiate the release of a poet held hostage by a relatively unknown Maoist group in Beirut. Before this, Bill is photographed by a famous photographer - Brita (who specializes in photographing writers across the world) with whom he starts a dialog about the role of the writer in forming and raising the moral consciousness of the people. A character called Karen has escaped from a Christian cult under which she was mass married. The book starts off with her marriage at a mass wedding. Delillo uses the mass wedding and Ayotollah Khomeni's funeral to emphasize his idea that the future belongs to crowds. The book ends on a bleak note with Brita being asked to photograph upcoming terrorists instead of writers.

I liked a lot of Delillo's ideas in the novel. But Mao II is a very tough book to get through. It is almost as if Delillo wants to keep the reader at a distance. I am glad i read it, though.

Yep, still my favorite Don all these years later. Lesson: DeLillo excels if his books start in stadiums.

This novel is about images. It depicts images from different perspectives. The image that the author has of himself, the world, and terrorism. The images a photograph takes of the author, of war, and of children playing in a schoolyard. This novel is about the image an insecure person has of themselves, and the image a lost soul forms of the world around them. This novel divulges the truth through images, and the fear reflected in so many ways.

The Novelist as Substitute Terrorist (Or the other way round?)

I have a great deal of sympathy for DeLillo's protagonist, Bill Gray, alias Willard Skansey Jr. He has my fear of being over the hill. He, like me, talks to relative strangers more intimately than is warranted. I share his doubt that any of my accomplishments have even personal importance. And I really would prefer to spend my remaining days being ignored by the world.

On the other hand, Bill puts me off viscerally. His clipped conversational banter packed with urbane wit, his hapless set-up of his own professional and existential demise, his absence of credible motives for any actions he takes, his weird idea that the rise of terrorism has reduced the moral power of writers of fiction, and his compulsion to do something about that - all of it is alien and contrived. I'm left cold and unmoved in any direction.

There are many captivating phrases. This is DeLillo after all. But some appear to be nonsense: "We understand how reality is invented. A person sits in a room and thinks a thought and it bleeds out into the world. Every thought is permitted. And there's no longer a spatial distinction between thinking and acting." Is this a philosophy? A new understanding of the world? Or just a novelist's novelistic hubris?

Other of DeLillo's quips read like they came from Pseuds Corner in Private Eye Magazine: "... when the Old God leaves the world, what happens to all the unexpended faith?... When the Old God goes, they pray to flies and bottle tops." He also very much likes to bite the hand that feeds him, particularly that of publishers: "The secret force that drives the industry is the compulsion to make writers harmless." Indeed, that threat of the powerful writer must keep them up at night at Penguin.

The narrator's snobbishness is obvious:

"They are a nation, he supposes, founded on the principle of easy belief. A unit fuelled by credulousness. They speak half a language, a set of ready-made terms and empty repetitions. All things, the sum of the knowable, everything true, it all comes down to a few simple formulas copied and memorised and passed on ... This is what people have wanted since consciousness became corrupt."

Who is it, does one suppose, DeLillo is addressing? Not his readers surely. More likely the unread masses, at least those not having read DeLillo, including all those dead folk born after corruption but before the DeLillian Enlightenment .

And of course, authors don't fair much better. "If you've got the language of being smart, you'll never catch a cold or get a parking ticker or die," says his sarcastic protagonist who has a houseful of notes, drafts, proofs, corrections, and emendations of a book he refuses to finish for no clear reason. He's a lush, a lech, and an absent father who sleeps with his assistant's wacky Moonie girlfriend and thinks that having his photograph taken is equivalent to a notice of impending death. His apparent intention is to allow Lebanese terrorists to 'trade-up' on their literary captive Swiss poet by sacrificing himself. His life, as they say, is complicated. Mostly because his egotism appears unbounded.

References to Mao, Arafat, and Khomeini abound. I can't understand why. Are these the terrorists who have undermined the importance of Western fiction? If they have, does this imply that authors are compelled to involve themselves in terrorist liaisons and media-manipulation? "Great leaders regenerate their power by dropping out of sight and then staging messianic returns," notes one of the characters. And? Are great novelists included as great leaders? Someone involved with this novel apparently thinks such a pretentious conceit has merit. Good luck with that.