I thought it was an easy FUN READ.... a 'mild' satire... fear of death, digital frontier justice, capitalism- capitalist bashing in sorts....consumerism.... This book smells like napalm. It sounds like air being slowly released from a balloon. It tastes like ashes of the American dream.

The airborne toxic event. Cool name for a band? These guys thought so. Not if you look like that it's not. Here's a hint about that pill: “Fear is self-awareness raised to a higher level.” Every solution has consequences. Think of how much information, in the form of radio energy, there is flying through the air, all around us, all over the world, right now and all the time...Trillions and trillions and trillions and trillions of separate little bits of electronic information flying around the world through the air at all times. Think of that. Think of how busy the air is. Now realize this: A hundred years ago there was none. Nothing. Silence. Reading White Noise by Don DeLillo is the literary equivalent of 18 paranoid hours of non-stop channel surfing while chain-smoking and nursing a migraine in a smoggy, over-crowded city. On meth. What if death is nothing but sound....electrical noise….you hear it forever…sound all around…uniform, white.”b) "satire" whose effect is similar to assaulting the reader with a blunt instrument. Whether it's the repeated use of such tired and obvious devices as the random scattering of consumer product names throughout the text, or having his protagonist lead the department of "Hitler Studies", there's nothing remotely smart about it. This kind of heavy-handed bludgeoning is the hallmark of a very inferior writer. It insults the intelligence. Authors are generally praised for demonstrating subtlety and wit - why should DeLillo be given a pass? It's like how my mom still calls me if there is bad weather nearby, or if I'm out driving on a holiday where the roads could be filled with people who had too much to drink. For Classroom Study: Visit Penguin Random House Education to search for our newest Penguin Classics or dive deeper into our catalogs. Il college mi verrebbe da collocarlo nel New England, o forse più a sud. Ma invece apprendo (non però da DeLillo che nel romanzo non specifica mai) trovarsi nel Midwest. As he becomes much more intimate with the advent of his own death Gladney begins finally to glean wisdom from information. “The air was rich with extrasensory material. Nearer to death, nearer to second sight. I continued to advance in consciousness. Things glowed, a secret life rising out of them.”

Il che la dice lunga su questo incubo a occhi chiusi e aperti che accompagna i giorni e gli anni di alcuni esseri umani (tutti? È parte della condizione umana? Dissento). My hesitation with reviewing this book comes from the inevitable fear that I've missed the entire point. This book is well-regarded and has been well-reviewed. Maybe I'm what's wrong, and not White Noise. Considering it was written by the Great DeLillo, this is quite possible. I think I do get it, though. It's a postmodern critique of our culture, with freshman philosophy masquerading as deep insight.

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People were being torn apart, their loyalty to one another crushed and ... common human decency was going down the drain. It’s indescribable, really, because you’d get the feeling that nothing was going to be sacred anymore. The situations were so exact it was quite amazing. The ritual was the same. What they were demanding of Proctor was that he expose this conspiracy of witches whose aim was to bring down the rule of the Church, of Christianity. If he gave them a couple of names he could go home. And if he didn’t he was going to hang for it. It was quite the same excepting we weren’t hanged, but the ritual was exactly the same. You told them anyone you knew had been a left-winger or a Communist and you went home. But I wasn’t going to do that. Compere: Yes folks, welcome to Gym Combat, Nottingham’s premier gym and home to Saturday Night Fight Night. Tonight …what…what… That's what it all comes down to in the end," he said. "A person spends his life saying good-bye to other people. How does he say good-bye to himself?" It's like how the news can report on how Coke can kill you so you start drinking Diet Coke, but then the artificial sweetener can give you cancer so you try to just drink water, but there could be bacteria in it unless you use a filter.

There’s something about German names, the German language, German things. I don’t know what it is exactly. It’s just there. In the middle of it all is Hitler, of course.” The toxic event had released a spirit of imagination. People spun tales, others listened spellbound. There was a growing respect for the vivid rumor, the most chilling tale… We began to marvel at our own ability to manufacture awe.’Fear of death. Fear of life. Consumerism. Commercialism. Communism. Toyota Celica. Murray is a comic genius. No frills. The pills won’t save you. Orest Mercator. Going for the record. Snakes bite. How strange it is. We have these deep terrible lingering fears about ourselves and the people we love. Yet we walk around, talk to people, eat and drink. We manage to function. The feelings are deep and real. Shouldn’t they paralyze us? How is it we can survive them, at least for a while? We drive a car, we teach a class. How is it no one sees how deeply afraid we were, last night, this morning? Is it something we all hide from each other, by mutual consent? Or do we share the same secret without knowing it? Wear the same disguise.” Powerful, poetic realism…makes the tired old subject of life in a mental hospital into an absorbing Orwellian microcosm of all humanity.” —Life. So......I finally read this.....enjoyed it. I found myself comparing this book to a new family TV series with Eugene Levy called 'Schitt's Creek'. The most entertaining-FUNNY show, I've seen in years.

I got the waggle of the finger and the furrowed brow from Bernice. She leaned over and whispered in my ear "you just lost your cloud". Okay all the yelling and the threats had bounced off me like marshmallow bullets, but those five words started the water works, and guilt wrapped in a furry fear blanket was born. What does Wilder crying at the end mean? Is that him finally speaking? Or is it some semblance of hope?

La novela, como nuestras vidas, parece girar únicamente en torno al concepto de sociedad de consumo, pero la narración es difusa como el sonido del título. En el texto, el ruido de fondo lo forman digresiones no relacionadas con la trama, conversaciones intrascendentes, y por supuesto la omnipresente televisión, emitiendo sin parar mensajes inconexos en segundo plano. La prosa de DeLillo, densa, compacta, plagada de referencias, es perfecta para reproducir ese murmullo homogéneo e indiferenciado. Even if none of the above interests you, just read this novel because DeLillo can build a haunting image of something very simple: Pero todo intento es inútil; la verdad, si es que existe, es relativa y lo auténtico y lo artificial se confunden hasta fundirse en una misma materia. The smoke alarm went off in the hallway upstairs, either to let us know the battery had just died or because the house was on fire. We finished out lunch in silence