Infinite Jest

1) "Recreational drugs are more or less traditional at any U.S. secondary school, maybe because of the unprecedented tensions: post-latency and puberty and angst and impending adulthood, etc. To help manage the intra-psychic storms, etc. Since the place's inception, there's always been a certain percentage of the high-caliber adolescent players at E.T.A. who manage their internal weathers chemically. Much of this is good clean temporary fun; but a traditionally smaller and harder-core set tends to rely on personal chemistry to manage E.T.A.'s special demands—dexedrine or low-volt methedrine before matches and benzodiazapenes to come back down after matches, with Mudslides or Blue Flames at some understanding Comm. Ave. nightspot or beers and bongs in some discreet Academy corner at night to short-circuit the up-and-down cycle, mushrooms or X or something from the Mild Designer class—or maybe occasionally a little Black Star, whenever there's a match- and demand-free weekend, to basically short out the whole motherboard and blow out all the circuits and slowly recover and be almost neurologically reborn and start the gradual cycle all over again..."

2) "Tennis's beauty's infinite roots are self-competitive. You compete with your own limits to transcend the self in imagination and execution. Disappear inside the game: break through limits: transcend: improve: win. Which is why tennis is an essentially tragic enterprise, to improve and grow as a serious junior, with ambitions. You seek to vanquish and transcend the limited self whose limits make the game possible in the first place. It is tragic and sad and chaotic and lovely. All life is the same, as citizens of the human State: the animating limits are within, to be killed and mourned, over and over again."

3) "'Uh oh. Dinnertime. Triangle's a-clangin' over in West.' 'Hey Hallie though? Hang on. Kidding aside for a second. What all do you know about Separatism?' Hal stopped for a moment. 'You mean in Canada?' 'Is there any other kind?'"

4) "The cable kabal's promise of 'empowerment,' the campaign argued, was still just the invitation to choose which of 504 visual spoon-feedings you'd sit there and open wide for. And so but what if, their campaign's appeal basically ran, what if, instead of sitting still for choosing the least of 504 infantile evils, the vox- and digitus-populi could choose to make its home entertainment literally and essentially adult? I.e. what if—according to InterLace—what if a viewer could more or less 100% choose what's on at any given time? Choose and rent, over PC and modem and fiber-optic line, from tens of thousands of second-run films, documentaries, the occasional sport, old beloved non–'Happy Days' programs, wholly new programs, cultural stuff, and c., all prepared by the time-tested, newly lean Big Four's mammoth vaults and production facilities and packaged and disseminated by InterLace TelEnt. in convenient fiber-optic pulses that fit directly on the new palm-sized 4.8-mb PC-diskettes InterLace was marketing as 'cartridges'? Viewable right there on your trusty PC's high-resolution monitor? Or, if you preferred and so chose, jackable into a good old premillennial wide-screen TV with at most a coaxial or two? Self-selected programming, chargeable on any major card or on a special low-finance-charge InterLace account available to any of the 76% of U.S. households possessed of PC, phone line, and verifiable credit? What if, Veals's spokeswoman ruminated aloud, what if the viewer could become her/his own programming director; what if s/he could define the very entertainment-happiness it was her/his right to pursue?"

5) "Bob Death smiles coolly (South Shore bikers are required to be extremely cool in everything they do) and manipulates a wooden match with his lip and says No, not that fish-one. He has to assume a kind of bar-shout to clear the noise of his idling hawg. He leans in more toward Gately and shouts that the one he was talking about was: This wise old whiskery fish swims up to three young fish and goes, 'Morning, boys, how's the water?' and swims away; and the three young fish watch him swim away and look at each other and go, 'What the fuck is water?' and swim away. The young biker leans back and smiles at Gately and gives an affable shrug and blatts away, a halter top's tits mashed against his back."

6) "The anhedonic can still speak about happiness and meaning et al., but she has become incapable of feeling anything in them, of understanding anything about them, of hoping anything about them, or of believing them to exist as anything more than concepts. Everything becomes an outline of the thing. Objects become schemata. The world becomes a map of the world. An anhedonic can navigate, but has no location. I.e. the anhedonic becomes, in the lingo of Boston AA, Unable To Identify."

7) "It's of some interest that the lively arts of the millennial U.S.A. treat anhedonia and internal emptiness as hip and cool. It's maybe the vestiges of the Romantic glorification of Weltschmerz, which means world-weariness or hip ennui. Maybe it's the fact that most of the arts here are produced by world-weary and sophisticated older people and then consumed by younger people who not only consume art but study it for clues on how to be cool, hip—and keep in mind that, for kids and younger people, to be hip and cool is the same as to be admired and accepted and included and so Unalone. Forget so-called peer-pressure. It's more like peer-hunger. No? We enter a spiritual puberty where we snap to the fact that the great transcendent horror is loneliness, excluded encagement in the self. Once we've hit this age, we will now give or take anything, wear any mask, to fit, be part-of, not be Alone, we young. The U.S. arts are our guide to inclusion. A how-to. We are shown how to fashion masks of ennui and jaded irony at a young age where the face is fictile enough to assume the shape of whatever it wears. And then it's stuck there, the weary cynicism that saves us from gooey sentiment and unsophisticated naïveté. Sentiment equals naïveté on this continent (at least since the Reconfiguration). One of the things sophisticated viewers have always liked about J. O. Incandenza's The American Century as Seen Through a Brick is its unsubtle thesis that naïveté is the last true terrible sin in the theology of millennial America."

8) "This is why Moms are so obsessively loving, why they try so hard no matter what private troubles or issues or addictions they have of their own, why they seem to value your welfare above their own, and why there's always a slight, like, twinge of selfishness about their obsessive mother-love: they're trying to make amends for a murder neither of you quite remember, except maybe in dreams."

9) "No one single instant of it was unendurable. Here was a second right here: he endured it. What was undealable-with was the thought of all the instants all lined up and stretching ahead, glittering. And the projected future fear of the A.D.A., whoever was out there in a hat eating Third World fast food; the fear of getting convicted of Nuckslaughter, of V.I.P.-suffocation; of a lifetime on the edge of his bunk in M.C.I. Walpole, remembering. It's too much to think about. To Abide there. But none of it's as of now real. What's real is the tube and Noxzema and pain. And this could be done just like the Old Cold Bird. He could just hunker down in the space between each heartbeat and make each heartbeat a wall and live in there. Not let his head look over. What's unendurable is what his own head could make of it all. What his head could report to him, looking over and ahead and reporting. But he could choose not to listen; he could treat his head like G. Day or R. Lenz: clueless noise. He hadn't quite gotten this before now, how it wasn't just the matter of riding out the cravings for a Substance: everything unendurable was in the head, was the head not Abiding in the Present but hopping the wall and doing a recon and then returning with unendurable news you then somehow believed."

10) "'They'll have to move us around to different sites. It's a pain in the ass, but Schtitt's done it before. I think the real variable'll be whether the Québec kids got into Logan last night before whenever it was this hit.' 'Logan'll be shut down you're saying.' 'But I think we'd have heard if they got in last night. Freer and Struck were keeping tabs on an F.A.A. link ever since supper, Mario said.' 'Boys are looking to get X'd by some slow-witted hairy-legged foreign girls or what?' 'My guess is they're stuck up at Dorval. I'll bet C.T. is on the case even now. Get some sort of announcement at breakfast, probably.'em!"

11) "Something like a shadow flanked the vividness and lucidity of the world."

12) "It now lately sometimes seemed like a kind of black miracle to me that people could actually care deeply about a subject or pursuit, and could go on caring this way for years on end. Could dedicate their entire lives to it. It seemed admirable and at the same time pathetic. We are all dying to give our lives away to something, maybe. God or Satan, politics or grammar, topology or philately—the object seemed incidental to this will to give oneself away, utterly. To games or needles, to some other person. Something pathetic about it. A flight-from in the form of a plunging-into. Flight from exactly what? These rooms blandly filled with excrement and meat? To what purpose? This was why they started us here so young: to give ourselves away before the age when the questions why and to what grow real beaks and claws. It was kind, in a way. Modern German is better equipped for combining gerundives and prepositions than is its mongrel cousin. The original sense of addiction involved being bound over, dedicated, either legally or spiritually. To devote one's life, plunge in. I had researched this. Stice had asked whether I believed in ghosts. It's always seemed a little preposterous that Hamlet, for all his paralyzing doubt about everything, never once doubts the reality of the ghost. Never questions whether his own madness might not in fact be unfeigned. Stice had promised something boggling to look at. That is, whether Hamlet might be only feigning feigning."

This books is amazing in many ways but is hard to compare to other more conventional stories and novels. It has a unique narrative structure and a radically chaotic use of language. I have to say I was skeptical at first and nearly gave up on this at several points, but it drew me in and by the end I was in love with its weird, quirky natures. The story itself is disjointed and a bit uninteresting when distilled from the way it is told and language used to tell it. That said it draws you in and is strong enough to hold up the novel through what is a marathon length telling. A lot of what happens in the book seems to be in service of some other purpose than serving to move the story along. It seems to be making points about society, human nature, morality and humanity in an almost back handed way that seems like an afterthought at first, but as this pattern becomes more and more common, it becomes apparent that these statements are more the point than the telling of the actual story. I loved this book and do not regret the 60 hours I put into listening to it.

#Bookwyrm #bookstodon

Here is a novel that can have many different meanings, depending on who the reader is. There are several plots and theaters being acted out and they do converge in intriguing ways.

I am re-reading this with a small book discussion group, which is making it a different experience. One of the members stated that she was tackling this as a series of short stories, and I will be interested to hear how this came together for her when we reconvene in January.

To me, this tome is mostly about addiction and the various ways D.F. Wallace's characters came by their addictions. Whatever their drug of choice, it was always about passive escape--shoot up and trip, get drunk and forget, or--turn on the television for hours of passive entertainment. All of these things can be done by a loner, in a crowd or alone in a room. It becomes the same.

Part of the majesty of this big novel is the impressive number of characters that Wallace had to create for his many theaters. There is The Enfield Tennis Academy, The Ennet Drug and Alcohol Recovery House, and then there is the world of international politics and terrorism.

The terrorists are focused on finding a film cartridge known as The Entertainment, which is lethally addictive. Its creator was James O. Incandenza, the founder of The Enfield Tennis Academy. The Ennet House is just down the hill from this school and some of its recovering denizens had menial-type day jobs there. Meanwhile, there are terrorists and spies watching the area and Incandenza's family and friends...just to minimally sketch how it is that these characters and plots start to converge.

It's impossible, in one review, to describe everything, every reason I have for finding Infinite Jest to be The Entertainment. Perhaps one reason would be that it's a loop; once the reader (finally) makes it to the last page, the first inclination is to immediately go back and reread the beginning. However, there is no set conclusion.

Along the way, there are so many amazing scenes. Some of them are hard to read (as in Blue Velvet-like, violent and gross), some sad, but then there are funny episodes, too. There are also interesting literary allusions (probably much more of them than I noted!) the obvious one being Hamlet. The writing is incredibly creative.

When our book group reconvenes, I'll be fascinated to hear how many people believe in the wraith, and--what was really going on with Ortho Stice's bed? Who stole Michael Pemulis's stash? What exactly, is wrong with Hal? How do we interpret some of Don Gately's hospital bed dreams? What happens to Joelle v. D? So much to talk about....

There are also the chat forums and blogs devoted to theories and arguments about what exactly happened here. Many of these discussions and essays are quite good.

If David Foster Wallace's aim was to get his audience to be actively engaged, he succeeded.

In the not so distant future, the residents of a Boston halfway house for recovering addicts and the students of the Enfield Tennis Academy both search for the master copy of a bizarre movie that is so entertaining the viewers die in a state of catatonic bliss. That movie is called Infinite Jest and it is said that anyone who watches it will lose all desire to do anything but watch it. This semi-parodic novel questions what entertainment is and why it dominates our lives.

I’m not going to lie, this book is both lengthy and difficult to read but in the end it is worth the effort. You will need three bookmarks for this book, one for where you are up to, another for the endnotes and the third for the timeline that sits around page 80. You do need to read the endnotes, this book relies heavily on them; they include definitions, side thoughts, in depth details and even a filmology. You will also need to know the timeline because David Foster Wallace likes to jump around a bit, so it helps to keep up. This is where it gets tricky; in the book’s future each year has a corporate sponsorship, so you have Year of the Whopper, Year of the Tucks Medicated Pad, Year of the Trial-Size Dove Bar and so on. It helps to know in what order the years are in so you can piece it all together. While all this might help you keep track of what’s going on there is still the fact that this book is piled with subplot after subplot and you will have to keep track of more characters than A Game of Thrones novel. You will need to keep notes and it might even be a good idea to get a study guide because this book will take you on a very interesting ride.

As I said before, this book is not easy; I took my time with it and slowly chipped away at this book for two months but I still think I’ve missed a lot. While there are some tangents that happen in the endnotes, this book jumps around so much that sometimes you get lost and have to go back. There shouldn’t be any shame in doing this as Wallace’s writing voice is a postmodern mixture of high- and low-brow linguistic traits which is very difficult to become familiar with. He also uses juxtaposes, colloquialisms and polysyllabic and highly esoteric words so you will need to spend some time researching.

Now that I’ve talked about the difficulties of reading the book, I should probably talk about my thoughts on it. Infinite Jest starts off rather dense, you really need to push through the first few hundred pages before things start to make any real sense. So why is this book considered a masterpiece, magnum opus or anything else it has been referred to? It’s not to read; rather it is a book that will challenge us, to rattle us out of complacency. For me I think David Foster Wallace has the ability to take something like substance addiction, recovery programs, depression, abuse, death, relationships, popular entertainment and even tennis and look at it in a very careful way. The way Wallace explores each topic may make you feel uncomfortable and it is confronting but you do gain a deeper understanding. Yet the book doesn’t remain dry and depressing; Wallace has a very unique way of using humour to basically satirise the issues without making fun of them.

This book is a parody and comment on American culture, yet this is also a semi-autobiographical novel of the issues facing the author. Creating this funny but bitter sweet novel that I found difficult not to associate with the life of David Foster Wallace; his depression that lead to his suicide. There is a lot going on in this novel and to go through all the major themes within this novel would probably turn this review into something too long to read so if you want to talk about themes I’ll leave that for the comments. So just a brief overview; the main character Hal Incandenza is an intelligent tennis prodigy dealing with the intense pressure put on him to succeed in a junior Tennis Academy, dealing with a drug addiction and the ongoing strain (both physical and emotional) to reach his full potential. While that is an understated summary, all the subplots makes it hard to cover, this is just the basis of the book.

Addiction and depression would be the two major themes in the most brutally confronting depiction of the struggles I’ve ever read. No other book has given me the insight like this one. I feel like the depiction of depression is often wrong in books and movies; depression is a complex thing, it’s not a state, it’s an overall feeling that can’t be shaked. One of the characters in the book; Kate tried to commit suicide because “[she] just didn’t want to feel this way anymore” and “[she’d] rather feel nothing than this”. This tragically honest view on depression really opened my eyes on the state of mind and the struggles that people dealing with depression go through, and for this only, Infinite Jest was worth reading.

The futuristic America created in Infinite Jest feels very much like western society now, just with the increased corporate involvement but that is the way the world is heading. I am reminded of dystopian classics with his satire of society and the social/cultural commentary. It really covers a lot of interesting topics and, while it is difficult, well worth reading.

This is one of those books I plan to re-read once I have a degree in Literature behind me; while I got a lot out of this novel, I am hit with the feeling that I’ve only scratched the surface. This is rather impressive novel overall, never have I seen a novel with over 60% of Goodreads users rating the book five stars and for good reason, the book covers a lot of topics and does it really well. Blending serious topics with an awkward sense of humour is balanced perfectly, and I highly recommend reading Infinite Jest; even if it is only to increase your pretentious levels.

This review originally appeared on my blog; literary-exploration.com/2013/04/12/book-review-infinite-jest/

Well.

Dave Eggers once wrote that he spent an entire month reading this when it was released. And added that it's impossible to mutter an "eh" when finished with it, saying the book will change your life for the better.

I think he's right about it changing things.

The first 15 pages stormed me. Then, I felt David Foster Wallace was merely trying to impress and masturbate onto pages in some self-loving way that Jonathan Franzen can be prone to coming close to; after appx. 150-200 pages, however, that went away.

This book is filled with subjects and words and places but it's coherent, funny, inspiring and disgusting, bewildering, simple and complex. At times it felt like a drag, but mostly it's really, really good.

Every sentence feels thoughtful and sincere, and at the same time, I got the feeling (which is still in-place) that's simple; all you need is genius.

Well.

Dave Eggers once wrote that he spent an entire month reading this when it was released. And added that it's impossible to mutter an "eh" when finished with it, saying the book will change your life for the better.

I think he's right about it changing things.

The first 15 pages stormed me. Then, I felt David Foster Wallace was merely trying to impress and masturbate onto pages in some self-loving way that Jonathan Franzen can be prone to coming close to; after appx. 150-200 pages, however, that went away.

This book is filled with subjects and words and places but it's coherent, funny, inspiring and disgusting, bewildering, simple and complex. At times it felt like a drag, but mostly it's really, really good.

Every sentence feels thoughtful and sincere, and at the same time, I got the feeling (which is still in-place) that's simple; all you need is genius.