来，德里罗先后创作了13部小说，4部戏剧，还有众多短篇小说和散文。随着每一部小说的出版，德里罗逐渐显示了他在文学创作领域的天赋并且取得了巨大的成就。对于这么一位才华横溢的多产作家，尽管评论有褒有贬，但是很多评论家就其独特的题材和反传统的写作技巧这些方面颇有同感。德里罗的小说常常以当代美国的社会生活为关注焦点：政治阴谋，色情犯罪，狂热的谋杀者，恐怖主义者，化学事故等等。其中大部分事实上都是些令当代美国人震惊而又不愿意面对的社会问题。此外，德里罗擅长采用侦探小说，恐怖小说，科幻小说，灾难小说以及体育小说等小说形式来表现主题，借此他讽刺地批判了当代美国文化，同时也表达了对后现代社会中人类困境的关注。 本文以德里罗最为著名的小说之一《白噪音》为例，对后现代美国社会中的消费文化现象进行了剖析，尤其是符号消费带给人们的消极影响，并由此进一步说明小说中所刻画的人类生存危机事实上和弥漫于社会生活的消费文化有着紧密的联系。
充分展示了后现代社会中愈演愈烈的人类文明与自然生态的对立，真实记录了当代美国人精神上的焦虑、痛苦和危机感。是一部以后现代文化为背景的〃生态灾难小说〃。本文指出，德里罗对人类环境危机和精神生态的关注贯穿小说始终，生态意识是构筑这部作品独特魅力的重要因素。
《白噪音（White Noise）》（英文版）作者：唐·德里罗（Don DeLillo） TXT下载
White Noise
Don DeLillo
To Sue Buck and to Lois Wallace
I Waves and Radiation
1
The station wagons arrived at noon； a long shining line that coursed through the west campus。 In single file they eased around the orange I…beam sculpture and moved toward the dormitories。 The roofs of the station wagons were loaded down with carefully secured suitcases full of light and heavy clothing； with boxes of blankets； boots and shoes； stationery and books； sheets； pillows； quilts； with rolled…up rugs and sleeping bags； with bicycles； skis； rucksacks； English and Western saddles； inflated rafts。 As cars slowed to a crawl and stopped； students sprang out and raced to the rear doors to begin removing the objects inside； the stereo sets； radios； personal puters； small refrigerators and table ranges； the cartons of phonograph records and cassettes； the hairdryers and styling irons； the tennis rackets； soccer balls； hockey and lacrosse sticks； bows and arrows； the controlled substances； the birth control pills and devices； the jurik food still in shopping bags—onion…and…garlic chips； nacho thins； peanut creme patties； Waffelos and Kabooms； fruit chews and toffee popcorn； the Dum…Dum pops； the Mystic mints。
I've witnessed this spectacle every September for twenty…one years。 It is a brilliant event； invariably。 The students greet each other with ic cries and gestures of sodden collapse。 Their summer has been bloated with criminal pleasures； as always。 The parents stand sun…dazed near their automobiles； seeing images of themselves in every direction。 The conscientious suntans。 The well…made faces and wry looks。 They feel a sense of renewal； of munal recognition。 The women crisp and alert； in diet trim； knowing people's names。 Their husbands content to measure out the time； distant but ungrudging； acplished in parenthood； something about them suggesting massive insurance coverage。 This assembly of station wagons； as much as anything they might do in the course of the year； more than formal liturgies or laws； tells the parents they are a collection of the like…minded and the spiritually akin； a people； a nation。
I left my office and walked down the hill and into town。 There are houses in town with turrets and two…story porches where people sit in the shade of ancient maples。 There are Greek revival and Gothic churches。 There is an insane asylum with an elongated portico； ornamented dormers and a steeply pitched roof topped by a pineapple finial。 Babette and I and our children by previous marriages live at the end of a quiet street in what was once a wooded area with deep ravines。 There is an expressway beyond the backyard now； well below us； and at night as we settle into our brass bed the sparse traffic washes past； a remote and steady murmur around our sleep； as of dead souls babbling at the edge of a dream。
I am chairman of the department of Hitler studies at the College…on…the…Hill。 I invented Hitler studies in North America in March of 1968。 It was a cold bright day with intermittent winds out of the east。 When I suggested to the chancellor that we might build a whole department around Hitler's life and work； he was quick to see the possibilities。 It was an immediate and electrifying success。 The chancellor went on to serve as adviser to Nixon； Ford and Carter before his death on a ski lift in Austria。
At Fourth and Elm； cars turn left for the supermarket。 A policewoman crouched inside a boxlike vehicle patrols the area looking for cars parked illegally； for meter violations； lapsed inspection stickers。 On telephone poles all over town there are homemade signs concerning lost dogs and cats； sometimes in the handwriting of a child。
2
Babette is tall and fairly ample； there is a girth and heft to her。 Her hair is a fanatical blond mop； a particular tawny hue that used to be called dirty blond。 If she were a petite woman； the hair would be too cute； too mischievous and contrived。 Size gives her tousled aspect a certain seriousness。 Ample women do not plan such things。 They lack the guile for conspiracies of the body。
〃You should have been there；〃 I said to her。
〃Where？〃
〃It's the day of the station wagons。〃
〃Did I miss it again？ You're supposed to remind me。〃
〃They stretched all the way down past the music library and onto the interstate。 Blue； green； burgundy； brown。 They gleamed in the sun like a desert caravan。〃
〃You know I need reminding； Jack。〃
Babette； disheveled； has the careless dignity of someone too preoccupied with serious matters to know or care what she looks like。 Not that she is a gift…bearer of great things as the world generally reckons them。 She gathers and tends the children； teaches a course in an adult education program； belongs to a group of volunteers who read to the blind。 Once a week she reads to an elderly man named Treadwell who lives on the edge of town。 He is known as Old Man Treadwell； as if he were a landmark； a rock formation or brooding swamp。 She reads to him from the National Enquirer； the National Examiner； the National Express； the Globe； the World； the Star。 The old fellow demands his weekly dose of cult mysteries。 Why deny him？ The point is that Babette； whatever she is doing； makes me feel sweetly rewarded； bound up with a full…souled woman； a lover of daylight and dense life； the miscellaneous swarming air of families。 I watch her all the time doing things in measured sequence； skillfully； with seeming ease； unlike my former wives； who had a tendency to feel estranged from the objective world—a self…absorbed and high…strung bunch； with ties to the intelligence munity。
〃It's not the station wagons I wanted to see。 What are the people like？ Do the women wear plaid skirts； cable…knit sweaters？ Are the men in hacking jackets？ What's a hacking jacket？〃
〃They've grown fortable with their money；〃 I said。 〃They genuinely believe they're entitled to it。 This conviction gives them a kind of rude health。 They glow a little。〃
〃I have trouble imagining death at that ine level；〃 she said。
〃Maybe there is no death as we know it。 Just documents changing hands。〃
〃Not that we don't have a station wagon ourselves。〃
〃It's small； it's metallic gray； it has one whole rusted door。〃
〃Where is Wilder？〃 she said； routinely panic…stricken； calling out to the child； one of hers； sitting motionless on his tricycle in the backyard。
Babette and I do our talking in the kitchen。 The kitchen and the bedroom are the major chambers around here； the power haunts； the sources。 She and I are alike in this； that we regard the rest of the house as storage space for furniture； toys； all the unused objects of earlier marriages and different sets of children； the gifts of lost in…laws； the hand…me…downs and rummages。 Things； boxes。 Why do these possessions carry such sorrowful weight？ There is a darkness attached to them； a foreboding。 They make me wary not of personal failure and defeat but of something more general； something large in scope and content。
She came in with Wilder and seated him on the kitchen counter。 Denise and Steffie came downstairs and we talked about the school supplies they would need。 Soon it was time for lunch。 We entered a period of chaos and noise。 We milled about； bickered a little； dropped utensils。 Finally we were all satisfied with what we'd been able to snatch from the cupboards and refrigerator or swipe from each other and we began quietly plastering mustard or mayonnaise on our brightly colored food。 The mood was one of deadly serious anticipation； a reward hard…won。 The table was crowded and Babette and Denise elbowed each other twice； although neither spoke。 Wilder was still seated on the counter surrounded by open cartons； crumpled tinfoil； shiny bags of potato chips； bowls of pasty substances covered with plastic wrap； flip…top rings and twist ties； individually wrapped slices of orange cheese。 Heinrich came in； studied the scene carefully； my only son； then walked out the back door and disappeared。
〃This isn't the lunch I'd planned for myself；〃 Babette said。 〃I was seriously thinking yogurt and wheat germ。〃
〃Where have we heard that before？〃 Denise said。
〃Probably right here；〃 Steffie said。
〃She keeps buying that stuff。〃
〃But she never eats it；〃 Steffie said。
〃Because she thinks if she keeps buying it； she'll have to eat it just to get rid of it。 It's like she's trying to trick herself。〃
〃It takes up half the kitchen。〃
〃But she throws it away before she eats it because it goes bad；〃 Denise said。 〃So then she starts the whole thing all over again。〃
〃Wherever you look；〃 Steffie said； 〃there it is。〃
〃She feels guilty if she doesn't buy it； she feels guilty if she buys it and doesn't eat it； she feels guilty when she sees it in the fridge； she feels guilty when she throws it away。〃
〃It's like she smokes but she doesn't；〃 Steffie said。
Denise was eleven； a hard…nosed kid。 She led a more or less daily protest against those of her mother's habits that struck her as wasteful or dangerous。 I defended Babett