Don DeLillo’s “Running Dog,” first published in 1978, is a novel that dives deep into the clandestine intersections of politics, art, and crime, mirroring the paranoia and complexity of the Cold War era. As with many of DeLillo’s works, “Running Dog” is more than a straightforward narrative; it’s a labyrinthine exploration of the systems of power and the nature of obsession. The novel’s title, taken from a term used by the Nazis to describe the secret police of their puppet regimes, hints at the underlying themes of manipulation and control that pervade the book.
The story of “Running Dog” unfolds around a plot to uncover a lost collection of pornographic films supposedly made in Hitler’s bunker in the closing days of World War II. As various characters – from a New York senator’s aide to a war photographer turned mercenary – converge on this elusive prize, the narrative spirals into a wide-ranging critique of America’s political and cultural corruption.
One of the central characters, Moll Robbins, a reporter for a radical magazine called “Running Dog,” becomes entangled in this quest. Through her, DeLillo explores themes of voyeurism and exploitation. Moll’s pursuit of the films is as much about unveiling the truth as it is about understanding the darker undercurrents of power and desire. DeLillo sharply notes, “She wanted to see how deep the truth went,” capturing Moll’s profound need to expose the realities lurking beneath the surface of political and sexual power.
DeLillo’s narrative is rich with his characteristic sharp dialogue and precise descriptions. He has a unique ability to capture the essence of an era—the late 1970s—marked by disillusionment with government and a burgeoning fascination with conspiracy theories. “People found their true dimension in the secret lives of others,” DeLillo writes, summarizing the voyeuristic impulse that drives many of the characters.
The quest for the films serves as a powerful metaphor for the search for authenticity in a postmodern world cluttered with fabricated images and narratives. DeLillo seems to suggest that in the pursuit of this authenticity, what is revealed is not just hidden histories but also the obsessions and vanities of those who seek them. This is particularly evident in the character of Glenn Selvy, who works for the senator and whose motivations are an intricate blend of personal ambition and moral ambiguity. DeLillo writes, “His own life was a series of overlays, and he had lived too close to power to think of it as anything but a natural force, with its own laws and imperatives.” Selvy’s realization reflects a broader commentary on the nature of power itself—impersonal, relentless, and self-perpetuating.
Throughout “Running Dog,” DeLillo intersperses philosophical musings that elevate the plot from a mere political thriller to a contemplative piece on the human condition. The narrative is steeped in the paranoia of the era, yet it transcends specific historical and political confines to address universal questions about truth and illusion.
The novel also delves into the art world, critiquing its commodification and the way it mirrors the larger manipulations in politics and media. DeLillo portrays the art collectors and dealers in the book as part of a system that is as morally ambiguous and potentially corrupt as any political regime. This theme is encapsulated in the character of Lightborne, an art dealer who muses, “Art is a form of dirty trick played on the rich by the poor, with the complicity of the critics.” This cynical view highlights DeLillo’s skepticism about the purity of any pursuit, whether artistic or political.
“Running Dog” ultimately reveals the complexity of its characters’ motivations, entwining their personal histories with broader social and political forces. The novel’s climax, involving the revelation of the films’ contents, serves not only as a resolution to the plot but also as a comment on the futility and danger of obsession. The revelation that the films might not even exist or hold the expected content is a typical DeLillian twist, underscoring the illusory nature of the characters’ quests.
In “Running Dog,” DeLillo offers a powerful critique of American culture, drawing from themes that resonate deeply in his later works, like “Libra” and “Underworld.” The novel is a snapshot of a particular moment in American history, yet its exploration of power, obsession, and art remains timeless and provocative.
DeLillo’s prose is both dense and cinematic, with scenes painted in vivid detail and dialogue that cuts to the core of his characters’ psyches. His ability to weave complex narratives that explore philosophical questions while still engaging the reader in a compelling story is on full display in “Running Dog.” This novel is not just an artifact of the 1970s; it is a continuing conversation about the depths of human desire and the elusive nature of truth, making it a critical and enduring piece of American literature.
