Part of the beauty of Infinite Jest is David Foster Wallace’s ability to go in-depth about all sorts of seemingly random subjects. With 1,100 pages (including footnotes), he has plenty of room to do so.
My review will be coming later this week, but I thought I’d give you a quick glance at few things you’ll learn about while reading Infinite Jest–if you dare take the challenge:
Look at the size of that beast.
Everybody’s got one–that book on the shelf, the one you bought 3 years ago, back when you really said you were going to read that 400 pager, and you really meant it.
But after page 50, you got a little bored, maybe a little overwhelmed, so you sat it back on the bookshelf–and there it stayed, staring you down, mocking you.
For me, that book was Infinite Jest. It wasn’t literally on my shelf, but it’s been a part of my reading to-do list for years now. A good friend and big Infinite Jest fan has been singing its praises to me for a decade, but I couldn’t get motivated to read it. Have you seen the size of this book?
The more you read Infinite Jest, the more aware you are of David Foster Wallace as an astute observer of human nature.
Even beyond Infinite Jest, this is evident in his essay about taking a cruise or his commencement speech at Kenyon College. If I can quickly steal DFW’s writing style, I would say, “The guy was like perceptive.”
One passage jumped out at me the other night. The main character, Hal Incandenza, is having a conversation with his handicapped brother, Mario (nicknamed Boo). They are discussing the different methods people use to lie:
If Infinite Jest was a half-marathon, I’d be somewhere around mile 11, just past the last water station, hamstrings tight, feet sore, sweat poring, and trying to will myself to the finish line.
As this week starts, that’s where I sit with Infinite Jest–now on page 822. I’m ready, seriously ready to finish this book. Don’t get me wrong: I’ve really enjoyed reading and writing about this book on the blog.
But it’s been 5 or 6 weeks now (I’ve lost count), and I’m ready for something new. This leads me to ask one question–is Infinite Jest too long?
I have now seen sucrose beaches and water a very bright blue. I have seen an all-red leisure suit with flared lapels. I have smelled suntan lotion spread over 2,100 pounds of hot flesh. I have been addressed as “Mon” in three different nations. I have seen 500 upscale Americans dance the Electric Slide. I have seen sunsets that looked computer-enhanced. I have (very briefly) joined in a conga line.
Not long before Infinite Jest was published, Harper’s Magazine gave David Foster Wallace a “plush” assignment: Go on a cruise and write about it. The preceding paragraph is how his essay about the experience opens.
The piece was originally titled “Shipping Out” but was renamed to “A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again” when it appeared in his book of essays by the same name.
David Foster Wallace (why do I always feel obligated to say his full name?) was known to be a bit of a grammar nerd. His mother taught English in college, so he grew up in a house where proper English was militantly stressed. He taught writing and literature at Pomona College for many years before he died.
I thought we’d have a little fun today and take one of DFW’s grammar tests that I found online–over at HTML Giant.
Sadly, I only got 5 of 10, and I write English for a living and fake my way as a copyeditor on occasion. How well can you do? Determine what’s wrong with each sentence. Go here for the answers.
Here’s how DFW opens his quiz: “IF NO ONE HAS YET TAUGHT YOU HOW TO AVOID OR REPAIR CLAUSES LIKE THE FOLLOWING, YOU SHOULD, IN MY OPINION, THINK SERIOUSLY ABOUT SUING SOMEBODY, PERHAPS AS CO-PLAINTIFF WITH WHOEVER’S PAID YOUR TUITION”
The plot is starting to develop.
Yes, I’m 500 pages into this book, and the plot is starting to develop.
I’m trusting that David Foster Wallace knows what he’s doing. To this point, it seems that the first half of the novel is focused on character development—the focal points being Hal Incandenza at the Enfield Tennis Academy, Don Gately at a Boston Drug Rehab Center, a guy named Marathe who is part of a group of wheelchair terrorists, and a “quadruple agent” (pretending to pretend to be a double agent) named Steeply who is dressed in drag.
I haven’t hidden the fact that I wasn’t a fan of Mrs. Dalloway–which is currently last in my rankings of the books I’ve read to this point. Interestingly, though, I’ve noticed some similarities between Mrs. Dalloway and Infinite Jest.
Both David Foster Wallace and Virginia Woolf didn’t mind writing a sentence with hundreds of words. I believe a couple of sentences in Infinite Jest last more than a full page.
But the difference being, in my opinion, that David Foster Wallace’s long sentences actually make sense to my small brain.
This guy could like write. (Photo via Steve Rhodes/Flickr)
Since I started 101 Books, I recall tearing up only once while reading–that was during one dreadfully depressing passage in Rabbit, Run.
It really takes a lot for a book to make my tear glands kick into gear. Although, I’ll admit that, after having a kid, I’m more prone to drop a happy tear every now and then for whatever reason.
There’s one passage in Infinite Jest that achieved that feat. At this point, I don’t even know how essential this passage was to the plot as a whole, but I only know it moved me.
Let me take you “behind the veil” of 101 Books. Truth is, I was reading Infinite Jest about a week before I posted about it.
I had to get a head start with this one, simply because of its length–and the fact that I don’t want to be posting about IJ for two months on this blog. That would wear everyone down. So while I was finishing up Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret, I had already started on Infinite Jest as well.
At this point, I’ve finished about 30% of the book–and I’m past the point where many readers give up and quit. And, I’ve got to admit, I’m starting to see why so many people are obsessed with this book. But I can also see why many readers get frustrated.