∑ilage

...don't read it. trust me.

unless of course you really like pretentious, narcissistic, and morbid postmodern fiction that tries to out-baudrillard baudrillard before baudrillard was Baudrillard.

just read 300 pages of gravity's rainbow and call it good.

memorable moments from White Noise:

"What good is my truth? My truth means nothing" (23).

"Is there a true deja vu and a false deja vu?" (122).


"'We are the sum total of our data,' I told her, 'just as we are the sum total of our chemical impulses'" (192).

So he wrote it in '85 with (apparently) Derrida's dick firmly shoved in his mouth, and quite possibly the frankfurt school and a couple of situationalists rammed up his poo hole. Doesn't matter. Plenty of writers get creative without spouting off canned theoretical maxims.

Puke. I don't care if DeLillo's being cheeky, or if he's even more postmodern, indeterminately cheeky. Like, how serious is he? He's totally messing with my mind by dishing these huge profundities.

The dialogue reads like a bad philosophy lecture. I mean, if you're going to write a 300 page pontification, at least be craftier at making it a smoother read. Even William Pierce could do that, and he's a fucking racist psycho.