I highly appreciate this novel for its thematic ambitions. ‘White Noise' shed lights on superficial aspects of modern consumerist societies and on our modern day obsession with data to the point of worshiping them. Despite all the characters' desperate attempts of collecting data and making sense of their life events, they both consciously choose to remain ignorant as artificial attempt to cling to illusional sense of control.
However, this story is worthless. The characters lack personalities. The philosophical dialogues lack epistemological foundation, which make them sound dull and vague. When I reached the final page of this book, I found myself having wasted time reading Jack's self-justification for his irresponsibility and pretentiousness. This novel has no relevance at communities that value intimate human connections over intellectual hypocrisy.
Stories deal with social stratification, role of religion and nature of beauty.
Extremely underwhelming, with the plot extruded to excessive length and one-dimensional characters. Vonnegut's the sloppiest work, the definition of pulp fiction.
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