Monday, December 28, 2009

David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest

David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest. This took me six months to read and I'm still in too much anger or grief to write about it. So exasperating.
So, I loved this book. Even though it took 300 pages to really follow it, even though it was discursive to the point of madness, and even though sometimes I felt like I was swimming in a septic tank of misery. There were times when it was dull, not for the sake of dullness, but to make a point about dullness. But description dragged me in and won me over. Ennet House was perfect to the last detail - hysterical in its maddening triviality and the tiny miseries of living with other people. I loved Hal, and Mario, and Don Gately. I loved the stupid jokes, and I especially loved the words and their ridiculous use. I knew, knew, that the story could not possibly gather up all the threads and tie them off. Even more unlikely that there could be some kind of personal conclusion or completion, much less happiness. It's not like I wasn't warned. Still, I wanted to throw the book across the room when I finished it.

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