One of the books that I am reading for an American Lit class is White Noise by Don Delillo. Set in the 1980s, the novel explores the life of Jack, a professor who invented the field of “Hitler Studies” at his college, and his nontraditional family around the event of a chemical explosion.

Before we read it, my professor told us that it is okay for us to find some of the events and dialogue funny. And some parts of it is funny. Not necessarily laugh-out-loud funny, but they deserve a couple chuckles.

For instance, this scene with two of Jack’s daughters:

In bed two nights later  I heard voices, put on my robe and went down the hall to see what was going on. Denise stood outside the bathroom door.

“Steffie’s taking one of her baths.”

“It’s late,” I said.

“She’s just sitting in all that dirty water.”

“It’s my dirt,” Steffie said from the other side of the door.

“It’s still dirt.”

“Well it’s my dirt and I don’t care.”

“Dirt is dirt.”

“Not when it’s mine.”

This scene is mostly funny because it is relatable. You can easily see siblings having a similar conversation.

The novel is very aptly named. Throughout the novel, Jack mentions bits and pieces of noise from the television, which no one really seems to pay attention too. Events, such as the smoke alarm going off and people going missing, are talked about but stay part of the background.The conversations are often like the one on either side of the bathroom door. Background conversations, ones that don’t really matter. One could argue that all the conversations (at least the ones I’ve seen so far) classify as such. I personally think that Jack’s family is all part of the white noise and that he and his thoughts on death are all that he really pays attention to.

One view of white noise, background noise, the noise that we don’t quite pay attention to, is that it is different for everyone. Some people have to have music or the TV on all the time and some people actually listen, so they can’t have it on while they work on their business. Another view is that everything, even your thoughts, are white noise.

If the second is true, if everything and everyone is white noise, then do we matter?

I’m hoping that the second half of the book will give me a semblance of an answer.