Sunday, May 04, 2008
The summer of DeLillo
By no means am I an expert of literature. I took only a few courses in college and, to be perfectly honest, I am not particularly well read when it comes to the classics, the Western canon. Most everything I have read, save for a few of the Russians, was written during the 20th and 21st centuries in the Western hemisphere.
Having delivered this caveat, I am comfortable with saying that, to me, Don DeLillo is the greatest living fiction writer. I read his White Noise a few years ago and loved it, but other than one failed attempt to get through the 800+ page Underworld I didn't come back to his books. Until, that is, I had a chance encounter with his newest novel, Falling Man, while visiting Seattle last month. Falling Man is all about, mainly, 9/11, but also memory (including the failings thereof) and the psychological and emotional effects of living through a traumatic event. DeLillo made his living by examining the media, the state, terrorism, and catastrophe. And of course New York as well. So in some ways, 9/11 was merely a DeLillo novel played out in real life, though I suppose Falling Man begs the question, in world saturated by big media and simulation, is there such a thing as "real life"?
Today was a mostly perfect spring afternoon. Sunny, 60s, a slight breeze coming off the lake. I ventured over to my neighborhood park to people watch and read a few chapters of Underworld. Public life in Chicago often dissapoints me, since expensive cafes and corporate-sponsored, state-sanctioned events tend to dominate space and time here. But on days like today, I know I can count on good old Welles Park for plenty of diverse human activity. There was softball, of course, but also frisbee, little league baseball, soccer, football, hackiesack, a drum circle and what clearly looked to be sepak takraw. As in, just give me the damn sepak takraw ball.
Ngyuen Thi Buch Thuy: 'Just Give Me The Damn Sepak Takraw Ball'
Anyway, reading DeLillo in a public space is quite the experience. His ability to peel back the layers and get at people's motivations and desires is outstanding. Watching the hustle and bustle of weekend life in the city, everyone doing their thing, coexisting, while considering DeLillo's take on aging and disease and nostalgia and everything else is like a taking part in an field study being conducted by anthropologists from the future.
And but so, it occurred to me that DeLillo's work should be mandatory reading for school kids, rather than territory reserved for art fascists and regular readers of the New York Time book review. Required study of, say, White Noise in, say, grade five would create a generation of politically aware, media savvy children who would know better than to believe what they see. The problem is that ten-year olds are certainly not ready to hear about "the magic and dread" of American life, to quote the man himself. I suppose a more reasonable goal would be to replace some of the more staid high school American lit with fiction that will help students to navigate the world they are inheriting. I'll probably end up contradicting or recanting this statement at a later time, but DeLillo has much more to say to today's youth than do Hawthorne or Salinger.
After reading Falling Man I decided to make the ensuing summer my personal summer of DeLillo. I suspect that this goal for summer will spill over into the fall and winter, since the guy has written some fifteen novels and several plays. I'll end this blather with an extended quote (lifted from Wikipedia) DeLillo made in reply to criticism from none other than George Will:
Amen to that.
Having delivered this caveat, I am comfortable with saying that, to me, Don DeLillo is the greatest living fiction writer. I read his White Noise a few years ago and loved it, but other than one failed attempt to get through the 800+ page Underworld I didn't come back to his books. Until, that is, I had a chance encounter with his newest novel, Falling Man, while visiting Seattle last month. Falling Man is all about, mainly, 9/11, but also memory (including the failings thereof) and the psychological and emotional effects of living through a traumatic event. DeLillo made his living by examining the media, the state, terrorism, and catastrophe. And of course New York as well. So in some ways, 9/11 was merely a DeLillo novel played out in real life, though I suppose Falling Man begs the question, in world saturated by big media and simulation, is there such a thing as "real life"?
Today was a mostly perfect spring afternoon. Sunny, 60s, a slight breeze coming off the lake. I ventured over to my neighborhood park to people watch and read a few chapters of Underworld. Public life in Chicago often dissapoints me, since expensive cafes and corporate-sponsored, state-sanctioned events tend to dominate space and time here. But on days like today, I know I can count on good old Welles Park for plenty of diverse human activity. There was softball, of course, but also frisbee, little league baseball, soccer, football, hackiesack, a drum circle and what clearly looked to be sepak takraw. As in, just give me the damn sepak takraw ball.
Ngyuen Thi Buch Thuy: 'Just Give Me The Damn Sepak Takraw Ball'
Anyway, reading DeLillo in a public space is quite the experience. His ability to peel back the layers and get at people's motivations and desires is outstanding. Watching the hustle and bustle of weekend life in the city, everyone doing their thing, coexisting, while considering DeLillo's take on aging and disease and nostalgia and everything else is like a taking part in an field study being conducted by anthropologists from the future.
And but so, it occurred to me that DeLillo's work should be mandatory reading for school kids, rather than territory reserved for art fascists and regular readers of the New York Time book review. Required study of, say, White Noise in, say, grade five would create a generation of politically aware, media savvy children who would know better than to believe what they see. The problem is that ten-year olds are certainly not ready to hear about "the magic and dread" of American life, to quote the man himself. I suppose a more reasonable goal would be to replace some of the more staid high school American lit with fiction that will help students to navigate the world they are inheriting. I'll probably end up contradicting or recanting this statement at a later time, but DeLillo has much more to say to today's youth than do Hawthorne or Salinger.
After reading Falling Man I decided to make the ensuing summer my personal summer of DeLillo. I suspect that this goal for summer will spill over into the fall and winter, since the guy has written some fifteen novels and several plays. I'll end this blather with an extended quote (lifted from Wikipedia) DeLillo made in reply to criticism from none other than George Will:
"I don't take it seriously, but being called a 'bad citizen' is a compliment to a novelist, at least to my mind. That's exactly what we ought to do. We ought to be bad citizens. We ought to, in the sense that we're writing against what power represents, and often what government represents, and what the corporation dictates, and what consumer consciousness has come to mean. In that sense, if we're bad citizens, we're doing our job".
Amen to that.
# posted by workplex @ 19:15 
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