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100 Books in One Year #35: Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace

Cannonball Read / Brian Prisco

Book Reviews | January 15, 2009 | Comments (18)

I feel like I’ve just taken the world’s largest intellectual dump of my life. Everyone kept telling me to count this mammoth tome as three or four books. But no. It’s one. One massive, glorious, ludicrous, pretentious, fascinating, mind-apocalypsing epic. It required almost six weeks and two bookmarks to read through this and it’s nearly 100 page footnote section. And it was worth it.

I feel like I’ve accomplished something. I feel like I’ve been through rehab. I feel like I’ve done every recreational drug imaginable. I feel like I’ve given birth. I feel changed as a person. And I feel relieved to finally close the pages.

This isn’t so much a book as a life-altering experience. And as such, I can’t recommend it to everyone. It’s not for everyone. Most people would heft this monstrosity and sigh despondently trying to wade through its dense and cerebral text. I don’t say that as some sort of holier-than-thou scholar. Wallace isn’t for everyone. He’s operating on a level beyond most people’s comprehension. He’s a fucking cultural elitist, and he knows it, and he’s cool with that.

I have to compare this to things because you cannot encapsulate the actual plot, because there isn’t really one, but it’s so complexly structure, it feels like there is one. It’s at times like reading Dostoevsky, Bret Easton Ellis, Welsh, or especially Joyce. It’s in it’s own language — a post collegiate, scientific, farting contest. I’ve never been able to make my way through Joyce, because it crushes my mind. Same with Pynchon. But that’s where Wallace roosts. He’s equally more accessible and less.

The book takes place in Boston, particularly in the regions where I used to haunt when I was a grad student at B.U. It’s about a wealthy family who owns a tennis academy, and the students grappling with what it means to be a young athlete. It’s about art and entertainment, particularly avant garde filmmaking. It’s about drug addiction, about rehab programs, and AA programs, and casual users. It’s about what people do to make themselves happy, and whether or not it’s working. It’s about our battle with Canada. It’s a slice of life with nougaty chunks of hilarity and sobriety and neurosis. It’s a hell of a read.

Wallace takes us in and out of this world that exists about three steps over on the tesseract from our real world. He operates in this realistic parallel universe, and it’s charmingly scientifically advanced and beneath us in equal strides. He introduces us to a massive varying cast of characters: bobbing in and out of first and third person, using anecdotal narrative, dialogue snatches, and using a vocabulary that meshes street slang with effete fifteen dollar words. It’s the second book of his that I have had the pleasure of reading — the first being The Broom of the System, which had a profound effect on me. So much so that I still vow to get the symbol “….” tattooed on me at some point.

But again, I can’t say that everyone will love this book and should snatch it up. First of all, you’ll break your fucking wrists. It’s well over 1000 pages in massive paperback. Secondly, it’s densely packed. I’m a hell of a reader, and I could only go about 30 or 40 pages a night without giving myself an aneurysm. It wanders aimlessly. It’s more like a pastiche of these people’s lives that intersect at random. It’s also high-falutin’ in it’s approach.

I’m proud that I read this. This, and East of Eden, are my massive undertakings in the Cannonball. I’m terribly sad that Wallace passed. Depression haunts us all. This book sings with Wallace’s fight. And while he maintains a pragmatism about the war, you can also see points where the unbearable weight of melancholy sinks him. It’s not something meant to give you hope or a candle to curse the darkness. It’s more like hearing voices in the darkness and knowing that there are other people struggling with you, and you aren’t alone.

This review is part of the Cannonball Read series. Details are here and the growing number of participants and their blogs are here.









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Comments

Brian, I have de-lurked to say that I have been really enjoying your reviews for the Cannonball Read and had been wondering where you had got to. Now I know...I love Wallace, especially his non-fiction essays and short stories, but I have had this book sitting in my reading pile for months now and have barely cracked it. I think I am going to go back and give it another try.

Posted by: Amelia at January 15, 2009 8:58 AM

This, along with "Kavalier and Clay," has been on my book shelf for years now. I want to read it. I know I should read it. But I have a job and stuff, and I worry I'll lose the thread of the novel (such as it is) if I have to put it down for a few days (or a week).

And no disrespect intended, but I thought that was a picture of Pete Wentz when I first looked at it. And considering that "infinite jest" was included in the title, it seemed appropriate enough.

Posted by: jimbob at January 15, 2009 9:09 AM

Kudos, man, for gettin' er done. And a lovely review. Did you read the footnotes *after* the text, or in sequence with the text? I found the story changed (or my thin grasp of it did) depending on how I read the combined works. I'm still sad that he died.

I want to make a short film of Blood Sister: One Tough Nun

Posted by: lauren at January 15, 2009 9:23 AM

I read "Infinte Jest" in college, or maybe just after. It was a long, hard slog and I never read anything else by David Foster Wallace. I (rightly or wrongly, doesn't matter, just did) kind of lumped this book with "Atlas Shrugged" in the "big books I've read and will never touch again" category. Now I feel like I should give him another try.

Posted by: Captain Tuttle at January 15, 2009 9:36 AM

I got about 3/4 of the way through it, and finally admitted defeat.

It's not that I didn't enjoy it. I did, quite a bit. Wallace writes in such a manner that I felt to really get into the groove of it, I needed to be on meth or something. I needed to have that total focus and commitment, and keep it up for long stretches at a time. And I just can't do that anymore. There's too many demands on me to devote a good month to doing nothing but reading Infinite Jest.

If you're intimidated by the size of this book, though, his essays are definitely worth a go. I always recommend people start with Consider the Lobster.

Posted by: Wednesday at January 15, 2009 9:56 AM

I adore his essays, but I haven't conquered "Infinite Jest" as yet. I detest Pynchon, so seeing DFW in the same category hasn't spurred me on.

God, my list of "shit I'm embarrassed I've never read" continues to grow.

Posted by: samantha t at January 15, 2009 10:31 AM

I read this book over winter break and immediately decided I have to read it again this summer. I love Wallace's style. The hardest part about the novel is trying to explain its appeal to other people. I kept finding myself saying "I'm reading this really great book about youth tennis and drug addicts and Canadians and ... "

Posted by: Nate at January 15, 2009 10:53 AM

Thank you for not including footnotes in your review. You wouldn't believe how many reviews of this book I've read that included footnotes. Schmucks.

Posted by: ernesto at January 15, 2009 11:12 AM

I just picked it back up and I also swear by the two-bookmark system. I've been picking at it for just about a month now, and its so dense that sometimes I have to sit back and chew on what I just read. Dave Eggers said it best when he said it demands your full attention and can't be read in a crowded cafe or with a child on your lap. I hole up alone in my room and don't tell anyone where I've gone to, lugging this massive tome.

Posted by: Optimus Rhyme at January 15, 2009 11:21 AM

Tried once several years ago and got through about 100 pages. Tried again this summer and made it through almost 200. Glorious. Infuriating. Ultimately beyond my capacity each time. The academy entrance interview at the beginning might be the most harrowing thing I've ever read -- until I got to the pot-smoking shut-in episode.

I will have to rent a mountain cabin for approximately three weeks in order to read this (I'll have to start over again, too), because it requires every iota of my attention. Not for the faint of heart.

Posted by: sansho1 at January 15, 2009 12:13 PM

Interesting review, and I'll be sure to check this out when I feel ready enough to do so.

Just one thing, though, Brian: you appear to have accidentally credited yourself as the author of this book in the headline...

Posted by: vic at January 15, 2009 12:22 PM

I was so confused. I thought you had written this book.

I've just woken up, and the title is wrong! nyah.

Posted by: figgy at January 15, 2009 12:42 PM

Man, and I was all impressed with myself that I was about to polish off a book that runs about 750 pages. Damnit.

This is one of those books I keep hearing about and thinking I should get around to reading it. But then when I finally picked up A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius I don't think I got 20 pages before I went "Fuck this shit" and put it down. I'm worried that that will happen again if I get around to Infinite Jest and it will make people think I'm intellectually simple.

Posted by: Genny (also Rusty) at January 15, 2009 12:49 PM

This sounds a lot like Cryptonomicron in that it is incredibly dense and requires a shit ton of concentration to get through. I must admit I don't know if I am up for it. I made it through about an 1/8 of Cryptonomicron before admitting defeat and using it as a doorstop. And that was even though the opening chapter featured one of the best written introductions I've ever read.

Posted by: Stella at January 15, 2009 2:59 PM

Wait, so you're writing a book review of your own book?


"100 Books in One Year #35: Infinite Jest by Brian Prisco

Cannonball Read / Brian Prisco"

Who is this Wallace person and where is the proper introduction?

Or is this one of those hipster douchebag things that I should already "Just Know"?

Your review might be good, but tend to the basics before launching into eternity.

Posted by: Recondite at January 15, 2009 3:27 PM

I'm late to the game, I know, but I wanted to chime in with my two pennies and say that I also TRIED. About 200 pages in and I gave up. Just slammed the damn thing shut and drove it back to the library. I must add that I did have to extend my check-out time once.

Wallace's writing is just, hmm how to describe it?, out of this fucking world. My favorite book, House of Leaves, is wacky I know, but this is beyond my comprehension.

Posted by: Agent Scully at January 15, 2009 4:10 PM

I want to read it but I haven't managed to work up the capacity. I think I will have to train with some more accessible intellectual snobbery till I have worked out my brain sufficiently for the marathon I suspect this is. If you see what I mean.

Posted by: catag at January 15, 2009 6:16 PM

Kudos, Brian, for not taking the coward's way out in the cannonball read and instead tackling one a beast like this.

I'm nearly finished reading Oblivion, Wallace's short story collection, right now and I don't think a single story has actually come to a conclusion, instead opting to wander off to its most cerebral corners. I kind of love it, but I'm interested to see how it works out in novel form. Glad to see you give it the stamp of approval.

Posted by: Macafee at January 15, 2009 7:13 PM