I’m very sorry for all the meta.

So I started off thinking about this blog post by thinking about how White Noise repeatedly challenged ideas of semantics. (Hint: boy was that a bad idea.) I started with the account of the plane-that-almost-crashed and was intending to continue through other examples later in the novel, but I ended up getting myself into a mess that will probably make me sound like a pretentious pansy. I’m also pretty cranky now. I’m sure that, given some time, I can mull over these questions more slowly and less painfully (though whether or not I’ll come up with any real answers is a very different story), but for now I’m just going to throw them out there and take some aspirin for the resulting headache. I’m not really sure I ever want to think about this stuff again, actually. So, for more embarrassment or for less, here’s how things went:

The account of the plane-that-almost-crashed was particularly striking, as the effect of one word is explored in the movement from the use of “crash” to that of “crash landing”. DeLillo writes, “after all, the difference between the two is only one word…. How much could one word matter?” (p. 91) The irony is that this question actually poses two different questions here. On the one hand, it points to the idea that whether one calls the event a “crash” or a “crash landing”, the actual event itself does not change—so, one word doesn’t matter whatsoever. On the other hand, it addresses the effect that one word has on the mind, as the switch to the “crash landing” terminology allows the passengers and crew of the plane to calm down. This in turn leads to an effect on the course of action, as the individuals all regain control of themselves. “They patted themselves for ballpoint pens, went fetal in their seats.” (p. 91) Thus order is restored, and the effect of just one word is, in fact, monumental. Apparently, changing a word or phrase even slightly leads to a change in our idea of the word’s/phrase’s definition, though not necessarily in the truth of the word. Language is so arbitrary—not that this idea is news, but it is incredibly stark here. What does a word mean? A word is forced by us to take the definition we assign to it. So, what is a “true” definition, when a word’s definition can be eternally changing? Winnie asks Jack, “Doesn’t [death]…. give a precious texture to life, a sense of definition?” (p. 228) I took this as “doesn’t death give life definition?” when I first read it, but I quickly saw that this interpretation is completely incorrect, because that’s not what DeLillo has written. “A sense of definition” implies that death doesn’t actually give life definition—and if it doesn’t, then what does? If life and death don’t define each other in any way, why is either one so important to the other when they are so separate in their definition/meaning? That is, if death doesn’t give life definition, then why should death affect life, whether in action or in ideal—and by “ideal” I mean in terms of “idea”, not “(ethical) value”. My conclusion? I’m confused, I don’t understand, and I don’t know what anything means.

By nympheline

I think Andy Warhol is possibly the most insightful life-commentator that I know of.

1 comment

  1. Meta is a good place to go, embarrassing or not. Truly, though, you’ve touched upon some important concepts. Judging from White Noise and his other novels, I’d say that DeLillo never believes a word is “just a word.” The crash landing is a great example, and so is Willie Mink, where we see that words can have literal, material implications. Or consider how Steffie and Denise display symptoms simply by hearing about them. Words have a great deal of power, and I think DeLillo might say they have both “ideal” and “ethical” consequences.

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