White Noise by Don DeLillo

Don DeLillo’s White Noise (1985) is a comedy about death, if you can believe that sort of thing. The main character who gives voice to the action is a college professor by the name Jack Gladney who has made a name for himself in the academic world in the very unusual field of Hitler studies. Jack has a few failed marriages behind him, and four children: Heinrich, Denise, Steffie and Wilder. His current wife Babette is described as suffering from some vague medical condition, that puts you in mind of Alzheimer’s.

In the beginning of the novel the whole family has to evacuate their house due to an “airborne toxic event”, a non descript cloud of foulness that suddenly takes everyone out of their humdrum routine existence and turns the citizens into refugees in their own country, an experience that is described as surreal, harrowing and kind of funny.

Once the toxic event is under control and people return to their homes, Jack begins to worry more about Babette and he manages to find out that she is taking an experimental drug called Dylar. Much of the action of the second part of the novel rests on this drug, what it is supposed to cure and what Babette has had to do to be accepted in the study that provides the drug. I’m not going to give it away here, but let’s just say it has some far reaching and absurd ramifications.

This is one of those novel’s that have gained the dubious soubriquet post-modern fiction. And if you have read any Paul Auster you know what that means. A meandering tale, vague and a bit pointless, like life itself, that isn’t afraid of the lacunae and leaving you hanging without answers. At the same time it is sharp in its observation of detail. It is rich in witty dialogue and has lots of mad ideas. The structure is more a triptych than a straight forwards novel with beginning, middle and end. It is not a morality tale.

Sometimes with postmodern fiction it is easier defining what it is not… But it is enjoyable, witty, dark and has a deep underpinning of humanism in its true sense. DeLillo pokes fun at consumerism, false intellectualism and the family unit. Several of Jack’s ex-wives have worked in intelligence, making a career of lies and deceit. DeLillo makes fun of conspiracy theories and he makes fun of fear.

But at the same time he is caustic and observant when it comes to human behaviour. Like some other postmodern authors you get the sense that in observing the minutiae, the tiniest details of human behaviour, we stand a better chance of making sense of things than if we try to look at the bigger picture. “Il n’y a pas de hors texte” as Derrida put it. There is nothing outside the text. Stop trying to act like this is reality… Or something like that.

Here’s a little sample of the dry humour:

“I’d like to lose interest in myself, I told Murray. ‘Is there any chance of that happening?’

None. Better men have tried.” (DeLillo, p. 152)

That pretty much says it all as far as postmodernism and the subject of the self goes.

I enjoy DeLillo in that somewhat disjointed way you enjoy postmodern fiction. Trying to explain what it is about and why you like it is always a little tricky because it has to do with a general reshuffling of categories. But if you don’t mind not getting all the answers and find the mind set appealing this is one of the good ones.

Mule.