An interesting book about a pandemic of a different type that infects not humans, but the power grid. I’m a fan of Don DeLillo and his ideas are always weird and pensive and fascinating and this is no different.

First the book begins with a couple in a plane, before and after a crash landing into the new world without power or screens. DeLillo as always captures a new strange atmosphere and impending doom very adeptly and creepily.
The book also, very eerily, captures the feeling of being in a pandemic even though it was written before the pandemic we are currently in. It also poses questions about our dependence on (and as he puts it, “mesmerization” with) electronics, as well as terrorism.

This is a novella so it is a quick but ponderous literary read. While not among my favorites of DeLillo’s, I still very much enjoyed the tone, atmosphere, and questions it posed. And I thought the ending was perfect.

Thanks to Scribner, DeLillo and NetGalley for the ARC. This story will be available on October 6.

Don DeLillo has again tapped into the anxieties of society and takes readers into the abyss we all have come to fear. In DeLillo’s new novel (or better maybe novella) readers are taken into an unknown darkness where all technology stops. Stops, it all just stops. The horror. On Superbowl Sunday, one of our holiest of days, everything turns off and there isn’t a reason why. There’s no logging into our internet provider to complain via the live chat, we can’t turn anything off and then back on again to see if that works, we can’t even return to the lowliest of options: the phone call. Everything goes dark and DeLillo seizes the opportunity by taking our fears and turning them against us. DeLillo has done this to us in the past. As Jaws made us afraid of the water, DeLillo readers are now afraid of Airborne Toxic Events, death, nuclear destruction, aliens, assassins, and on and on we can go. The fear in The Silence is unseen and unknown. There is no cause, there is only our reaction and how we react is what Don DeLillo likes to exploit.
The Silence clocks in at a little under 150 pages, but is pure DeLillo i.e., twitchy characters interacting in a broken melody of disconnect. DeLillo uses his few pages to ask us what we would say in the dark. DeLillo’s surgical prose carries the sparse plot from start to finish. There is no context or cause for the unnamed, unknown blackout plaguing the book, but DeLillo has never been the author who provided background and like most of his books, you just don’t need it. The Silence is current and fresh, the story could have been written by a new writer in cash-grab mode, but in DeLillo’s hands, we get a piece of short fiction that rests easily right in the meat of his solid works.
The Silence is the perfect conversation starter. It doesn’t hold a side or try to prove a point. DeLillo is one of our greatest authors as giving the reader the freedom to decide. The Silence deserves to be read and deserves more to be a part of conversation.

DeLillo's newest offering is short and thought provoking and as usual, prescient. Imagined before Covid-19 hit (but not so far ahead that they couldn't insert a quick reference), The Silence describes a sudden event where all digital connections have been severed and humanity is forced to interact in its old ways. Present is DeLillo's stunning writing. Not a word wasted and sentences beautiful in their simplicity and striking in their multiple and layered meanings.

The Silence is reminiscent of DeLillo's previous novel Zero K, in that many interesting and important questions are raised but few are actually answered. Like Zero K, these open questions are the novel's greatest strength. DeLillo has always respected his readers enough to require that they share in the heavy lifting and The Silence is no exception. Excellent for book clubs, thought exercises and for anyone who enjoys a contemplative reading experience.

Don DeLillo’s work operates on the level of parable. Though brief, this book examines human life through event and dialogue in way that speaks hauntingly to the electronic connections of our time. The Silence is both relevant and prescient.

I don’t think the chilling new novella from Don DeLillo, #The Silence, is meant to be reviewed. Rated - yes. Discussed - most certainly. But reviewed ? It’s so short and hyper-focused that just about anything I say would be a spoiler. The ramifications of today’s “ on the brink “ world inspired Mr. DeLillo to speak his mind. Like a tick that burrows it’s way under your skin, I believe #TheSilence will firmly find its way into your head and gnaw at your unconscious until it’s front and center in your thoughts until the silence is your only relief.

February 2022. A retired physics professor and her husband are hosting a Super Bowl game watch party on the Upper East Side of New York. One of the guests, the professor's former student, has already arrived, while two others are flying home from Paris and hoping to land in time to see most of the game. But when a sudden power outage shuts down all electronic communication and causes chaos in the streets and in the air, each party guest will have to come to their own reckoning with the nature of modern life and their place in it.

DeLillo apparently finished "The Silence" weeks before the onset of the Covid-19 pandemic, so it is eerie how much the novella reflects our current situation. One character muses, "But remaining fresh in every memory, virus, plague, the march through airport terminals, the face masks, the city streets emptied out"--an image that is perhaps too fresh and current in our own memories. And another character voices my own recurring thought through each new and disturbing quarantine development: "Is this the casual embrace that marks the fall of world civilization?" This sharp resonance with our current situation increased my interest and admiration for "The Silence"--I appreciated the "Why not us? Why not now?" self-reckoning the characters go through. This might not be the case for all readers, and certainly if you are looking for an escape from Covid, this is not the book for you right now. But there is a strange beauty and comfort as well in DeLillo's words:

"Whatever is out there, we are still people, the human slivers of a civilization." He lets
the phrase linger. The human slivers.

Thank you to NetGalley and Simon & Schuster for providing me with an ARC of this title in return for my honest review.

This is an interesting reading experience coming off of Leave the World Behind. It is less concrete and sparer. The world without a Super Bowl (or being able to view it)? Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Titans and Seahawks? We'll see.

DeLillo will never not be my favorite. This almost novella is pure, concentrated DeLillo, distilled down to the essentials: men in small rooms, crowds, planes, technology, quiet seeping panic, language, insurance adjusters... While I miss the length of his earlier novels, just being able to stay longer in his creation, the sentences are still perfection and the sentiments eerie in their predictive nature. (If you’ve not read DeLillo, people will say start with White Noise. I say start with The Names or Mao II.) Thanks to @scribnerbooks for the ARC!!

I must admit, I was more entertained by the reviews for this novella than the work itself. Not much to add to the conversation here as I am not a star struck DeLilo fan nor a student of literature (read: bro books) This was short and choppy and, honestly didn’t really engage me. Perhaps the tangential relevance to the pandemic had publishers pushing for a finish. But, to me it felt like a draft of the beginning of an idea.

In late 2018, DeLillo said to The Guardian about writing, “It’s what’s keeping me alive,” and so It’s our good fortune as readers that The Silence is the result. Like his recent novels, it’s spare and sharp—completely relevant to this moment in America and just shy of terrifying.

(I read an ARC of this novel provided free by Netgalley in exchange for an honest review. Thanks, Netgalley!)

You might know that I have a long history with Mr. Don DeLillo. I wrote my master’s thesis on three of his (early) novels. I’ve read most of his books, though I don’t think I’ve been able to finish any since my thesis with the notable exception of a White Noise reread.

Here’s why: my main discovery was that DeLillo writes the same novel over and over. You can pick up any DeLillo novel (except this one – but I’ll get to that) and expect a plot along the lines of this: Dude (always male) is disenchanted with mass media, retreats from said media, eventually decides that he can’t really get away, and returns to media-driven society. Read any DeLillo novel, and that’s what you’ll get. Which, I guess, is fine. Murakami essentially writes the same novels over and over, too, and I love him as much.

What’s different about DeLillo’s new book The Silence? Well, it’s not a novel, per se, even though it’s being marketed as one. It’s more the length of a long short story or a short novella. It’s also more like a couple of scenes from a longer novel or – better yet – a play (he’s written those, too) that isn’t finished. Maybe he had a deadline but didn’t feel like writing.

Another part of it (and, really, one of the reasons I generally can’t make it through his novels anymore) is that all of the characters sound exactly the same. That’s an issue with just about everything he writes, but in this tiny space, it’s magnified. If he doesn’t identify who’s talking, it’s easy to get characters mixed up.

Now for the plot part. This time, instead of some dude running away from the media, said media goes out. It just turns off. DeLillo isn’t clear if it’s just all media and communications or if all power is included. The whole situation is confusing. It’s mostly people in a room having conversations that are just parallel monologues or just standing up and talking. That’s it. Say that’s scene 2. Scene 1 is two of those characters on a plane that almost crashes because it loses communications and (maybe?) power. But it’s not an IED because cars still work to drive them from the airport to a clinic. And the clinic is still open. But stoplights and streetlights are out?

See what I mean? It doesn’t make much sense. There’s no story arc and no resolution. Instead of running away from media, the characters essentially become the media by reciting what the media would be saying. For instance, Max is hosting a football watch party when the media goes out. That includes TV, phones, etc, etc. So he stares at the TV and says what he imagines would be said including the commercials.

This “novel” is a big unfinished jumble. If you want to read DeLillo – seriously, it doesn’t sound like it here, but he’s one of America’s best living authors – read just about anything else he’s ever written. I suggest White Noise or Americana. I hear Underworld might be his best novel, but it’s huge and I haven’t made it through it. Maybe someday. Don’t waste your time here. I guess the publisher would accept anything DeLillo submitted just because of who he is. He’s 83 now, so maybe they’re worried about how many novels he has left in him?

I’ve read a lot of DeLillo, but this is the first time I’ve read something that’s objectively bad. And what’s weird is that it’s bad mainly because it’s not finished. It’s just a couple of scenes. DeLillo needs to suck it up and finish this novel or play and then submit it. Two scenes is only part of the story.

4 stars

I cannot be reasonable when it comes to Don DeLillo. My graduate thesis, a few independent study courses, my sense of the world...all DeLillo. If he published a note on a Post-It, I'd probably consider it a sacred text. Starting this review any other way would be dishonest.

This work moves so fast, and I think that has more to do with the current state of ever present trauma we live in, even, than the brevity of the text. These characters are trying to make sense of the nonsensical, and readers are (1) along for the ride but also (2) living our own trauma in this moment.

DeLillo's access to an oracle-like sensibility has always scared and fascinated me. I don't know what's next. These characters don't. Somehow, he always does.

Fans of DeLillo's will, I think, appreciate the characteristically DeLillo aspects of this work and maybe not mark it among their top three. I expect folks who are new to DeLillo or do not possess the gene (that thing that connects you to him like he's the leader of your own personal cult when you even hear someone talk about their Toyota Celica from 20 years ago) will not connect as much with this work. I wanted more but accept that he always knows what's best.

Thanks to Scribner and NetGalley for an ARC of this title.

I haven't read anything of Don DeLillo's since I read _White Noise_ in college, and this made me want to go back and read both that and more of his back catalog. This is probably more of a novella than a novel (since it's 128 very fast moving pages), and you can (and should) probably read it in a sitting. It's spare, and precise, and has a few beautifully clear moments that really hit home what it's going for.

A lot of the press around this is making a big deal out of it being finished a few weeks before COVID-19 hit, and there's a direct reference to it that I bet was added as part of final editing (since the book is set in 2022), but it's mostly about how we as humans respond to major catastrophic events, which has relevance.

This is a brisk read, a look at a catastrophic event through the eyes of a small group of people. You might find yourself thinking that the stories of others -- first=responders, pilots, bodega owners and on. -- would offer more fruitful material than a small group of people who are trying to watch the Super Bowl in this dialogue-heavy, novella-length piece.

DeLillo is a giant and it'd be great to hear him discuss the choices he made in this story.

This short writing "novella" I guess you would call it did not not speak to me much. It seems the reviewers who loved this book tended to speak in terms of high acedemia, of which I am not. I also wondered if maybe I missed something because I had not read the previous books of the authors in order to understand the writing better. From my standpoint the characters were very dry and boring. They spoke of little things going on and no real conversation or observing. When the plane started having troubles one even has to ask "are we afraid". I felt if we really are so reliant on technology as the world seems to be headed towards and then we suddenly lost it I would think people would be more panicked on what they would do and exist than the people in the story. I did not like how the story was narrated and could not get into the characters. I did like the feel of the story reminding somewhat of alfred hitchcock or an episode of the twilight zone but, i think maybe it went over my head or maybe I simply dont like a look into issues that is done this way. I can see by the reviews this is a big hit for some people so I say try it out. Read it. For me it is a miss for sure unless I can seem to make a deeper understanding of it.

The reader should be alerted that this isn't a full-fledged DeLillo novel--yet, despite that--the author mines his rich theme of what it means to be human in a mysterious, abbreviated tale of characters drawn together by a disruptive event. Not DeLillo's finest work--but a thoughtful and intriguing read nonetheless.

[ Note for the publisher: I run an online publication called The Collidescope in which I've interviewed such luminaries as Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o, Rikki Ducornet, Steve Moore, Alexander Theroux, and many others. I'd love to be able to conduct an interview with Don DeLillo via phone or email and further promote his work. You can visit the publication here: www.TheCollidescope.com ]

The Silence begins with the following epigraph from Albert Einstein:

“I do not know with what weapons
World War III will be fought,
but World War IV will be fought
with sticks and stones.”

Perhaps overused, even clichéd, it is all the more ominous for its inarguable truth. Though at the same time there is a micro-kernel of hope there, suggesting as it does that at least a couple of bands of tattered human beings will survive the third world war, the prelude to a kind of sine wave of human evolution as imagined in Olaf Stapledon’s mind-expanding Last and First Men. Looking at it another way, the re-brandishing of sticks and stones is the penultimate stage before the omega point in which “consciousness is exhausted. Back to inorganic matter. This is what we want. We want to be stones in a field,” from DeLillo’s Point Omega.

This new short story (novelette at best) is even more sparse than DeLillo’s post-Underworld work, starting with The Body Artist. (By the way, has anyone ever notice the slim volumes that follow fat tomes? Other than The Body Artist, there’s the post-Infinite Jest collection Brief Interviews with Hideous Men and the post-Women and Men novella The Letter Left to Me. Can you name other instances?) The longest novel DeLillo has written since has been Zero K at about 275 pages, with lines that are recognizably that laurate of terror, such as “Everybody wants to own the end of the world” and “I’m someone who’s supposed to be me.”

In The Silence, DeLillo feels at his quietest, mostly whispering, perhaps appropriate when considering the title, as though the silence is sacred and words are something of a blaspheme amid the blankness. The sparsity evokes at times a play (like Valparaiso), and I could certainly see this story being performed on a shadowed stage, especially considering that the book ends with each figure giving a semi-non-sequitur soliloquy in a room that might as well be empty, less than solipsism (“He wasn’t listening to what he was saying because he knew it was stale air”). The most animated language comes from a character whose bible is a facsimile of Einstein’s relativity manuscript, and he becomes both a disciple of that bygone genius who’s an example of an actual prophet (predicting as he did solar light-bending) and his ventriloquist—a rain dance in hopes of a mana of knowledge, the smallest savor of scientific salvation, perchance? There’s also a reference to Finnegans Wake, a different kind of bible written in a post-Babel babble, maybe the only kind of book that should be written when “the word itself seems so outdated to me, lost in space.”

Continuing with the Einsteinian prediction of returning to an Australopithecus atmosfear, DeLillo demonstrates in more ways than one that we are in the infancy of our species, babies with atom bombs, and so it’s no mistake that the technological blackout this story is centered around occurs amid the anticipation of a football game. In Carl Sagan’s posthumous essay collection Billions & Billions: Thoughts on Life and Death at the Brink of the Millennium, there is a wonderful essay titled “Monday-Night Hunters”. It begins so:

“We can’t help ourselves. On Sunday afternoons and Monday nights in the fall of each year, we abandon everything to watch small moving images of 22 men—running into one another, falling down, picking themselves up, and kicking an elongated objected made from the skin of an animal. Every now and then, both the players and the sedentary spectators are moved to rapture or despair by the progress of the play. All over America, people (almost exclusively men), transfixed before glass screens, cheer or mutter in unison.”

Sagan goes on to explain the symbolic comparison to real conflict but also to the strong genetics of a hunter-gatherer lifestyle (or deathstyle), and more. The inexplicable cancellation of the game in The Silence is like baboon blue balls.

DeLillo asks the question, “What happens to people who live inside their phones?” In groggy confusion, in electric birth, people stand “in the hallway, becoming neighbors for the first time.” Although one person’s neighbor is another person’s enemy in the world of the tribal.

Besides, how many people know how a cellphone works, yet how many hours every day do we stare at its screen, giving in to “the nudge of dumb indulgence”? The same can be said of TV screens and all other black mirrors. After the shutdown, a character looks at her husband’s dead phone: “She hit buttons, shook the thing, stared into it, jabbed it with her thumbnail.” The same exploratory yet ultimately useless actions a tribesperson would enact when handed even a live phone, yet eventually a primate might discover that the stick is a tool with which to fish for termites or ants. What good is a phone in a pre- or post-technological wilderness?

As Sagan has warned elsewhere, we possess the greatest technology in the history of humankind yet the kind of humans who are using it are absolutely ignorant about the science involved, so when technology terminates for whatever reason (Local or global EMP? Solar flare? Alien invasion? Singularity? What does it matter?), we’ll know not of what to do other than to stare “into the blank screen,” the abyss that stares back with the darkened reflection of your gaping self, the rectangular death window, “our personal perceptions sinking into quantum dominance.” The gap will continue until we’re the lumps of lard on floating chairs like in the animated movie WALL-E, assuming our infantile instincts don’t destroy us first. Lard to lard, stones to stones.

[First impression: While something this short (it's a novelette at best) and sparse (even by later DeLillo standards) couldn't possibly be satisfying in and of itself, I'm grateful to be able to read more work from one of the masters of fiction. I do hope that this is not his last work because I need more, particularly on the thicker side. A 3- or perhaps 4-star reading experience, morsel that it is, but I'm giving it 5 in a hopeless attempt to even out the aggregated rating skewed by ungrateful readers, particularly those who are not even familiar with DeLillo's oeuvre.]

P.S. Whoever made the cover for the American edition should be fired and whoever made the cover for the UK edition should be given a raise because the latter designer was at least vaguely familiar with DeLillo's style.

I was really looking forward to this because I enjoyed Zero K by this author previously. However this book was not really a complete, just more of a short (and boring) story. A mass malfunction occurs for electronics and causes "silence." People do not know what to do. Thank goodness this was only 128 pages but nothing really happens and the dialogue is bland.

Just a no, skip this even though it is short.

THanks tp Netgalley, Don Delillo, Scrbner for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.

Available: 10/20/20

Thank you Net Galley for the free ARC. I would call this a short story rather than a novel. A sudden event shuts down all electronic communication. I wanted more.

Any new DeLillo novel is an event, so I was over the moon when I got an advance copy of this one. It's marketed as a coronavirus novel, but it doesn't take long to realize it's not. It's barely even a novel... kind of a novella or just a long short story. DeLillo's novellas don't get a lot of respect. He's a writer with big ideas that are hard to compress into a short space. The Body Artist didn't stay with me nearly as much as Underworld or even Zero K. But the novellas are almost like seeing a stand-up work out new material on stage. They're rough and fragmentary, but there are gems buried there.

This is a story about a mass shut-down of communication and power systems. In a way, it's DeLillo at his most apocalyptic, envisioning the silence of all the communication and technology systems he's written so perceptively about for decades. In another way, it may be DeLillo confronting his own death. If he will not be here to write about these communication and technological systems, will they still exist in the same way? Certainly not for him. Zero K was about the struggle against death, but in this death is accepted for what it is--a silence, albeit a silence in which other life still persists. It's a bittersweet little book.