In contemporary American fiction, a new tendency seems to be springing up, that is to say, language is gradually becoming certain person-like presence, which serves as a reaction to the lamentable fact that outstanding signifier and covered signified have already put us in the prison of linguistic language, tantalizing not even to think about getting out. Rivka Galchen, Jonathan Lethem, and Don DeLillo have insightfully rejected language, our usual representative tool, as such objective being, but a creative process as well as active will, which includes things not said also. They let their respective unreliable narrator, namely Leo, Lionel, and Jack, play with familiarity and arouse the reader’s sympathy to highlight the subjectivity of language, as opposed to the extreme objectivity of language advocated by modern linguistics. However, their focus on the person-like or personified language merely brings temporary release from the insanity of the contemporary life, to which their attitudes are rather ambiguous: they either intentionally alert us not to slide from one extreme to another or they themselves are not quite certain about the ultimate solution, but let their fictional constructs sidestep the issue altogether, finding a way not to confront it. Either way, the three of them artfully articulate the secretive and ambiguous despair that we can’t tell clearly but recognize immediately.