Semantics and Simulations: Reality and its Intersections in "White Noise"

Jamie Ferrell

Professor Dora Zhang

UC Berkeley English 45C Section 201

4 October 2015

Semantics and Simulations: Reality and its Intersections in White Noise

Don DeLillo’s 1985 novel, White Noise, is a timeless social critique about the influence of technology and media on modern life. It occupies multiple themes and archetypes of literature, exuding a liminality that requires the reader to connect concepts that are often implicitly rather than explicitly stated. One such concept is the theme of language and the power of suggestion-- semantics plays a powerful role with intersectionalities in most of the story. By presenting multiple names for objects and concepts, differing suggestions regarding the concepts are introduced, such as the chemical cloud of Nyodene Derivative which is described with phrases ranging from “feathery plume” to “nebulous mass.” As a result of these euphemisms, reality and simulations are pitted against each other and simulation almost invariably wins out. DeLillo’s juxtaposition of the two creates a world of “simulacrons,” or situations in which the simulation becomes the primary association of the concept; that is, reality is no longer relevant.

The juxtaposition between reality and simulation is further echoed in the opposing forces of vulnerability and ignorance versus progress and efficiency. As the characters slowly realize, they are living in a world where material items and simulations are essentially doing all of the living for them. Without these, humans would almost certainly be helpless and ignorant, the very opposite of the efficient and progressive beings they appear to be. This tug-of-war between what is real and what is false creates an intense feeling of impending doom, a recurring motif of the plot line.

The story begins with a quick trip to a tourist attraction called “The Most Photographed Barn in the World.” While it initially appears to be an irrelevant and brief anecdote, it actually sets the tone of simulation versus reality for the rest of the story, perhaps the most literal example from which all other simulations are based. Murray Jay Siskind, a fellow professor and colleague of protagonist Jack Gladney, convinces Jack to accompany him to the notable landmark. The reality of the barn is that it is undistinguished from any other barn in the world except for the fact that it is “The Most Photographed,” that is, its impressive name and the resulting aura create an experience that departs from the otherwise unexceptional one. Murray describes it to Jack as an “accumulation of nameless energies,” (DeLillo 12). He implores,

What did it look like, how was it different from other barns, how was it similar to other barns? We can’t answer these questions because we’ve read the signs, seen the people snapping the pictures. We can’t get outside the aura. We’re part of the aura. We’re here, we’re now. (DeLillo 13)

Murray’s solemn yet excitable manner is rooted in the fact that Jack and himself are actively taking part in maintaining this aura. He emphasizes their immediacy with the repetition of “we” statements, declarative phrasing that extends beyond the two men to encompass every individual that is present. As Jack struggles to separate the reality of the nondescript barn from its status as “The Most Photographed Barn in the World,” he realizes that he cannot do so; it is a simulacron, a media-generated experience rather than an object.

Thus, we as readers also encounter our first brush with the power of language in the novel and resulting opposition between reality and simulation. As the character Estragon in Samuel Beckett’s play Waiting for Godot so aptly expresses, “we always find something to give us the impression that we exist” (2.292-4); that is, the very nature of humans is to strive for a sense of belonging and importance, often in institutions that are much larger and more permanent than themselves. Beckett’s memorable characters Vladimir and Estragon do so by essentially “acting” their way through life, further evidencing the theme of simulation versus reality due to the fact that their “real” selves are inextricably linked to their “simulated ones.” Their simulated selves lend them validation because they eventually grow to accept them as reality, or simulacrons. In the case of White Noise, validation is found in the world of technology, which seems an impressive permanent force to base reality on, despite the fact that the “reality” is man-made.

A turning point in the seemingly plotless story of White Noise occurs during “Part II: The Airborne Toxic Event,” when Jack and his family evacuate to escape a large cloud of poisonous Nyodene Derivative, or Nyodene D. gas encroaching upon the community. The names used to describe this cloud of gas evolve as the characters learn more about its toxic effects and come to terms with their own responses to it. The phrase “Nyodene Derivative” is a simulation of sorts in and of itself: it is not the initial substance, Nyodene, but rather a derivative of it. Nyodene D., as a chemical and human-generated phenomenon, threatens the very institutions from which it arose. While it was a result of human creation, it develops into a force outside of human control, thus wholeheartedly embodying the binary of reality versus simulation in the ambiguity of its purpose, be it to help or to hurt.

Nyodene Derivative is assigned many names throughout the novel, often with words that hint at nature, like “cloud,” in an attempt to “naturalize” the otherwise synthetic substance in a way that will be easier for humans to come to terms with. The radio begins by calling it a “feathery plume,” a description with a gentle and benign connotation that even the characters in the book are suspicious of. Jack’s comedically despondent teenage son, Heinrich, contests the description, saying “it’s not a plume… [it is] like a shapeless growing thing. A dark black breathing thing of smoke. Why do they call it a plume?” (DeLillo 109). Heinrich’s attempt at defining the mysterious mass underscores many of the characters’ reactions to language and semantics throughout the novel: every object or concept must have a name, and the name contributes reflexively to the the mental representation of the object or concept. Patricia Kolaiti’s journal article on “The Poetic Mind” describes the concept of representation as “not… a mere mental image or conceptual description of an object, but as being in a complex mental state in relation to some object, involving conceptual descriptions, perceptual images and affective attitudes towards it” (25). This is precisely the nature of Nyodene Derivative; as the story progresses, its names range from “black billowing cloud,” to “airborne toxic event,” and eventually “nebulous mass,” all of which have contrasting implications that influence the object’s “affective attitudes” towards it.

Conflicting interpretations and attempts to define an otherwise indeterminate concept are still further reflected in Samuel Beckett’s play, Waiting For Godot. Beckett is a fan of nonsensical words, which experts have abounding divergent interpretations of. Lucky’s soliloquy in the play begins with “...of a personal God quaquaquaqua with white beard quaquaquaqua outside time without extension…” (Beckett 45). Lucky’s speech is devoid of punctuation, which gives it a distinctly stream-of-consciousness air, and it could be reasonably argued that “quaquaquaqua” is nothing more than a filler word to contribute to this effect. However, attempts at defining it have ranged from an allusion to the word “quaquaversal,” which means “going outward in all directions,” or the French word “quoi,” meaning “what,” a multilingual pun. But no matter how many attempts are made to define this strange word, there is no real resolution; many connotations are available, but the meaning of “quaquaquaqua” varies based on whatever “simulation” has been applied to it. In other words, the word “quaquaquaqua” itself is purely nonsensical; its only validity is found in humans’ attempt to define it and derive some sense of meaning. This theme is closely mirrored by the media’s differing labels for Nyodene Derivative in White Noise, raising the question of how concepts can be defined at all without some human-influenced connotation.

Nyodene Derivative’s ultimate resting place is in the body of Jack himself after he is briefly exposed to it--his doctor describes it to him as a “nebulous mass” that has taken root inside of him. It is the same substance, but rather than a “black billowing cloud,” which lends an air of impending doom, it now carries connotations of a vague, indiscernible mass, a genesis of something artificial fermenting inside his body. Jack’s response to this new name is immediate--he says,

I only know I’m just going through the motions of living. I’m technically dead. My body is growing a nebulous mass. they track these things like satellites. All this as a result of a byproduct of insecticide. There’s something artificial about my death. It’s shallow, unfulfilling. I don’t belong to the earth or the sky. They ought to carve an aerosol can on my tombstone. (270)

Jack’s gruff, fragmented sentences lend an air of resignation to the discussion of the nebulous mass. Rather than attempting to naturalize it or distance it from himself, as the names “black billowing cloud” and “airborne toxic event” do, it then becomes defined as a foreign, human-created artificial “mass” residing inside of him. He tonelessly describes it as if he is already dead, having acquiesced that an artificial substance has already taken over his body. The lack of emotion and simple sentences used to explain this phenomenon serve to curtail the “humanness” and variety typical of human speech; almost as if Jack has become an artificial simulation himself.

And that he is. As reiterated throughout the story, Jack seems to occupy several different spheres--namely, personal and professional. At home, he is a middle-aged family man with children from multiple marriages and a debilitating fear of death. But at work, he is the stolid, impressive Hitler studies professor who goes by “J.A.K. Gladney,” an expert in his field wearing billowing robes and dark, intimidating glasses. This renaming of himself effectively adds a new, complex layer of simulation. Even Jack himself realizes this; he admits that his new name is “a tag I wore like a borrowed suit” (DeLillo 16). The theatricality of Jack’s professorial presence is notable, as the chancellor of the college he teaches at beseeches him to become “more ugly” and exaggerated. Thus, education itself becomes a simulation, most effective when there is some artificial element to deliver the information. This duality of characters and their real versus simulated personalities is further reflected in names like “Mr. Gray” and “Willie Mink,” both of which refer to the same man but in very different lights. After establishing that names contribute to simulation versus reality in one case in the novel, the theme can be further applied to analyze virtually every character and concept.

The uncertainty regarding what is real and what is simulated gains momentum as the plot progresses, establishing an air of anxiety and impending doom--eventually, it is understood that humans are so reliant on these simulations produced by technology and modernity that they are no longer the innovative and complex beings they once were. A significant part of Jack’s development as a character is his need for validation, which he seeks in the world of simulation. During a conversation with Murray, in which they discuss the nature of plots, we discover again that human interpretation is widely determinant of actions--Jack says, “To plot is to die, whether we know it or not.” Murray replies, “To plot is to live...this is how we advance the art of human consciousness” (DeLillo 278). This reinterpretation of the word “plot” carries significant weight, because he finds it impossible to extricate what is real from what is false, causing him to lose track of his values. Language, or, namely, semantics, influences his decision to go through with a plot to kill Willie Mink purely because the word has been given new meaning, a meaning he uses to justify going against his initial morals. This is the truly terrifying nature of humans that DeLillo so aptly examines in the novel: our need for validation makes us susceptible to the modern age’s obsession with branding and naming, influencing us to an incomprehensible extent as we lose the ability to extricate simulation from reality.

Works Cited

Beckett, Samuel. Waiting for Godot: A Tragicomedy in Two Acts. New York: Grove, 1954. Print.

DeLillo, Don. White Noise. New York, NY: Viking, 1985. Print.

Kolaiti, Patricia. "The Poetic Mind: A Producer-oriented Approach to Literature and Art."

Journal of Literary Semantics 44.1 (2015): 25. Print.