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Jesse Rose

5.0 out of 5 stars

Brilliant, Powerful, Uneven, Unforgettable

Reviewed in the United States on August 8, 2013

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Early on during my attendance at the University of Montana in Missoula, I attempted to read this book. I had been impressed by the phonebook-esque length, the tiny, crimped font, and enticing plot described on the back ever since I spotted it on a shelf at Hastings during my high school years. My copy had been purchased in 2006, the ten-year anniversary of the book's publication, and it had been marked down to $10 versus the typical $16 price tag; it had also been stamped as a special "anniversary copy."

Sadly, a few pages in, I just didn't get it and resigned, eventually giving away that particular edition to a local used bookstore. The narrative described a plethora of details that seemed unnecessary to the plot (what plot? har-har) and I stopped reading once I encountered a sentence that made zero sense to me: "I would yield to the urge to bolt for the door ahead of them if I could know that bolting for the door is what the men in this room would see." Like, huh? What else would they see, Dave? I just couldn't bring myself to read another word. The book had already stopped playing by one of my cardinal rules, which was to always make sense to the reader, always.

In a couple of years, things changed. Because of my college English lit classes, I was soon subjected to a barrage of mind-melting literature capable of completely changing the way I looked at fiction, especially the one-two punch of massive prose bricks Ulysses and Gravity's Rainbow, both of which had been paired with separate books written by scholars just devoted to explain the avalanche of random references and symbols. It soon became apparent to me that just because a book didn't always make sense or hit the usual narrative notes, it didn't always mean that it was an inferior work. Both Ulysses and GR equally frustrated and astounded me depending on which section I was reading, and they both eventually made their way onto my "favorite books" list due to their complexity and inimitable composition.

And but so I went ahead and gave IJ another chance. For a college graduation gift, I had received my requested present of a 2nd-generation Kindle. I downloaded a free sample of IJ and found that it was the longest sample Amazon had (and still has) ever sent me - it hit close the 70-page mark in the physical book. I started reading and kept on reading until the end of the sample. Like a spaceship gravitating toward a gaping black hole, unable to turn itself away from the hole's crushing pull, I was compelled to outright buy the book and read the rest of it.

I won't bother to waste my words here on the peculiar and sprawling plot, as it frequently defies description (and can be summarized in other reviews here). Same goes for the unconventional structure: most people know about the voluminous collection of footnotes, but there's far more intricacy to it than that. Instead, I will keep it brief and to the absolute essential of what you should know about this book: It is amazing. It really is. Ever since I read it, it still remains the best novel I've ever read. And a lot of people (including those who choose to read it as a part of "Infinite Summer") feel or will feel the same way.

A lot of times, when I read a book for a certain length of time, I start feeling the itch to just hurry up and finish it as soon as possible so I can get onto the next book. It must be an addiction to novelty and newness or something, but it happens with almost every book I read: a desire to read every last word so I can soon stand in front of my bookshelf, twiddling my fingers with glee whilst weighing the options of what I'll read next. With IJ, that never happened. During the three months that it took me to read it, I had the sensation of feeling like 1100 pages were just not enough. With characters and concepts this unique and compelling, I needed at least another 2200 pages, minimum.

Oddly enough, even though this is my favorite book as yet, it is by no means perfect. As hinted at by the "bolting for the door" line above, DFW does not always make complete sense and sometimes leaves you scratching your noggin, wondering what he meant. Nor is every single passage golden and hallowed: some sections go on and on to your detriment and consternation (I'm thinking specifically between the long-winded, philosophical conversations in the desert shared between Marathe and Steeply, easily the worst and most boring sections of the book).

In addition, the book ends on an apparently random and unsatisfying note, leaving a lot of unresolved plot points and likely serving up a cold helping of dissatisfaction upon the first read-through -- the opposite of the warm and fuzzy feeling avid readers have of closing a book and thinking, "There was absolutely no better way that could have ended." (I'm planning on reading Chris Hager's lengthy and reference-laden undergrad thesis which defends and explains IJ's ending -- I just recently found it on DFW website "The Howling Fantods," but I haven't got the time right now to plow through it and underline important points with a pen.)

Despite these downsides, however, there is so much stuff that just works: the chilling, deadly methods of the Wheelchair Assassins; Poor Tony Krause's nightmarish drug detox in a public library bathroom; Joelle Van Dyne's attempted suicide in the bathroom of a party; the apocalyptic Eschaton match; a hilarious description of the rise and subsequent failure of video-phone technology; Gately's robbery and accidental murder of M. DuPlessis early on in the book; and so much more. Joelle, Orin, Mario, Pemulis, John "No Relation" Wayne, and especially my main man Gately are all ranked among my favorite fictional characters ever written.

One thing I dislike about some post-modern authors is their apparent clinical detachment from their own characters; while everything is beautifully and eloquently written, I often get a sense of coldness, as though the writers do not feel very much for or through their own characters. In this, there is a heavy lack of what I think of as "heart." (I sensed this frequently throughout Don Delillo's "White Noise," whose characters seemed kind of flat and emotionless.)

DFW, on the other hand, put so much heart in this particular work that it's sometimes too much to take. Whether it's addressing the pain of addiction, the heartbreak of losing a loved one, the horror of child abuse, or the pure inability to connect with others or experience happiness, it's clear that DFW surely channeled many of his own fears and insecurities through his fictional creations and put much of himself down on the page as a result.

In contrast, there are also many parts of the book that are simply and uproariously hilarious. DFW boasted a very sharp and immediate sense of humor along his skills of prosaic manipulation. The edifice of Ennet House Drug and Alcohol Recovery House[sic], Don Gately's shrewd but uneducated observations & criminal upbringing, and the overall world of consumerism gone horrifically wrong as encouraged by the rampant rise of corporations are all fertile fields for the novel's more humorous sensibilities. There were many times that IJ brought on a spate of giggling in me so pronounced that I had to just put down the book and allow it to pass before I could continue.

Now, be advised that this book is not for everyone. Lord, no. Just because I and others enjoyed it so greatly does not mean that everybody will feel the same way. It's a very challenging and demanding work, and it seems designed for a very particular audience. Anyone hoping for a nicely-defined plot or simple themes will find him-or-herself quickly thwarted. Others looking for some kind of a point to the apparently pointless ramblings of admittedly inconsequential details or conversations that pack hundreds of pages, a lot of them enjoyable but ultimately unimportant to any overarching theme, will also go bananas with vexation.

IJ was never designed to nab a Pulitzer or a National Book Award, never designed to go down in the annals of literary greatness as one of those books that speak volumes to whoever reads it over the span of centuries. I think that it will connect most with collegiate types who grew up Gen-X and beyond, the ones who have, as children or young adults, especially experienced the constant bombardment of unconscious marketing by huge conglomerates, as well as the ubiquity of "the entertainment" whether through television and video cassettes or (later on) DVDs and the Internet. Anyone who has grown up in this age of easy access to non-stop stimulation will likely understand what DFW intended to lambaste with this particular book.

Now down to brass tacks: I own both the Kindle copy and the regular paperback edition (obtained at a used book sale along with a copy of Michael Chabon's The Yiddish Policeman's Union for a $1, probably the best used book purchase I've ever made). Given the size of this beast, I would heartily recommend the Kindle format for a first-time reader if you've got the appropriate technology. The Kindle version makes flipping back and forth between the main text and the footnotes a breeze, and let's face it, do you really want to lug that huge book around? (Unless maybe you're trying to broadcast to other people what it is that you're reading so you can more easily strike up a conversation with someone who has parallel literary tastes to you, to which I say go right ahead and get the door-stopper, then.)

We lost a genius and heartfelt mind in 2008 when Wallace committed suicide, but at the very least, he has left behind this amazing and one-of-a-kind labor of love that continues to inspire and confound the people who read it long after he left us. Not sure if you'll enjoy the book or not? Try downloading the free sample. As far as I know, it's just as long as it was when I first began this massive undertaking, and it'll give you a very good sense of what you're about to experience for the next couple of months. If you're not the intended audience, you can always put the book down. But if you are, you'll find that you too can't stop reading, and your life will likely be as irrevocably changed as mine was by this extraordinary book. Welcome to Infinite Jest.

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mark jabbour

5.0 out of 5 stars

A working vacation

Reviewed in the United States on February 21, 2011

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INFINTE JEST. (1996) David Foster Wallace.

Everything you have heard, read, and that has been said about Infinite Jest is true. Should YOU read it? Is the only relevant question. This book is work--it's going into the gym and the classroom. (It is 1079 pages and holding it requires strength and strategy. And Kindle, iPod, or cd isn't a remedy because of the classroom aspect--you will want to highlight, and write in the margins; and it requires two bookmarks--one for the body and one for the endnotes.) This book, though a novel, is a journey into the mind of David Foster Wallace and is one long suicide (Wallace hung himself 12 years after publication at age 46) note. But it is not grim and dour. It is, at times, gruesome and frightening, yes, and also funny, and always insightful into the human condition and especially the American pursuit of happiness and pleasure along with the concurrent escape from discomfort and pain. And mostly about the inherent and ironic conflict between pleasure and pain--how the relief of pain into pleasure ultimately creates more pain, which causes one to seek more relief/pleasure, i.e. a psychological and physiological trap--a cage with no way out ... except maybe through a Twelve-step program which is SO boring so as to be not worth the effort. And then, there is reincarnation--which DFW never calls by name (something he does with the Psychoanalytic Reaction Formation, also) but which plays a huge part in the story. Both.

Should YOU read it? I rank it as one of the four best books of all time. I lived with it for three weeks pretty much not doing anything else but reading and thinking about what Wallace was saying. I stopped drinking (One theme is addiction) and didn't bother to go out or watch any entertainment or do any work of my own (writing). It, the book, moved into my mind--took up residence in my apartment, became my roommate. Of course that is ironic also because the book's first name was "A FAILED ENTERTAINMENT," and the book is the most entertaining thing I've ever experienced - passively; but then it is work so it's not completely passive, as say watching something - "spectation" Wallace calls it. What the book is is inside the brain of a particular personality who happens to be a genius with a photographic memory (which again he doesn't name but describes: "Hal [a central character] can summon a kind of mental Xerox of anything he'd ever read and basically read it all over again, at will, ... ." (Pg. 797) I think parts of Wallace surface in all of the characters (there are scores of them) and what he does is to debate through interior and exterior dialogue, btw & w/in characters. Ideas/thoughts/philosophy (and of course this is discussed. He also critiques his own writing style via this, his technique,) Wallace's personality is, if categorized by the trait theory of The Big Five (OCEAN) [I think]: Extremely high O (open) slightly less but still very high C (conscientiousness), somewhat low E (extraversion, i.e Introverted), somewhat low A (agreeableness) and somewhat above average N (neuroticism). Add to that an extremely high I.Q. with that memory thing, a large physical presence (6'2, 200lbs.) and a cute and interesting face and you've got the man. If you think you can relate to those characteristics--you'll probably be taken by, and drawn into the novel as I was. [About being high O. Highly Open persons tend to be bored by people below them on the continuum, which looks like arrogance, elitism, snobbery, creative showoffishness, etc. Openness is the trait most associated with creativity. They also tend to be low in A (a `pussified' trait) for obvious reasons.]

That by way of introduction. Briefly now, a look at Infinite Jest by way of the six elements of a story.

Title: Perfect, either one. Defines the book.

Plot: There is only a very almost inconsequential one. It is sometimes a distraction. It is about the relationship btwn the USA and Canada and the use and disposal/reuse of energy and territory. In an interesting way - it is woven into the pleasure/pain conundrum and so therefore worth some consideration. The personal and political intersect with, I think, some very bizarre drug enhanced imaginative thoughts and ideas. Free association.

Characterization: There are three main protagonists. Hal Incandenza, a 17 yr.old, privileged white boy, at an elite youth tennis academy in Massachusetts; founded by his father (alcoholic) and run by his mother (OCD). Hal is addicted to marijuana and nicotine and a gifted and highly rated tennis prospect. He has younger residents/students/players he mentors, as well as two brothers who play prominent roles. Don Gately, a 29 yr. old, staff resident of a halfway house for recovering substance abusers, located adjacent to the tennis academy. Don is 9 months sober and oversees other recovering addicts. He is recovering from addiction to downers and a life of crime. Remy Marathe, (of unknown age) a legless Canadian, and member of a group of wheel chair assassins involved with the USA v. Canada's political/environmental/territorial mess. There are numerous sub-characters within these three facets of the story - the tennis academy, the halfway house, and the governments of the two countries. There is a prominent female character, Joelle van Dyne. She is involved with Orin Incandenza (Hal's older brother); James Incandenza (Hal's father); Mario Incandenza (Hal's younger, deformed, brother); and Don. She is also a person of interest i/r/t Remy's work. She is addicted to crack cocaine and a girl of exceptional beauty--the P.G.O.A.T.--the Prettiest Girl On The Planet. To me, none of the characters were all that likable.

Setting: The story takes place mostly in and around Boston, Mass. USA in the near future [The book being written in the mid 90's.] year of 2007. It is spring through fall and there is rain, humid heat, and snow. The "action" is mostly in and around the tennis academy, the halfway house and the seedy underbelly of Boston. There is also the desert SW around Tucson. Wallace is the best I've ever read of painting landscape and cityscape with words. He is also the best at the littlest details of people behavior. [Reading him is in some ways like opening your eyes to the world for the first time.] The zeitgeist is a future that revolves around telecommunications and entertainment, both voice and video. It is eerily accurate i/r/t where we are today. [It was written pre Internet & wireless explosion.]

Style: This is maybe where most people simply go batty and throw the book against the wall. There is no consistent POV or voice save for Wallace's. He breaks every rule (for writing) there is ... and yet he pulls it off. All the characters pretty much talk the same, with the same idiosyncrasies, i.e. Wallace's. He uses conjoined conjunctions up the wazoo: "And so but... That thus this is why... So and but that night's next ..." etc. He repeats words: "Then he considered that this was the only dream he could recall where even in the dream he knew that it was a dream, much less lay there considering the fact that he was considering the up-front dream quality of the dream he was dreaming." [then he adds, mocking himself] "It quickly got so multileveled and confusing that his eyes rolled back in his head." (pg. 830) Events are not lineal. Sometimes events and persons don't become clear for 100s of pages. He makes up words. He uses obscure words. He uses acronyms up the wazoo. He uses endnotes that are stories in and of themselves. The endnotes sometimes explain the main story. There can be page upon page w/o a paragraph break. His segues sometimes are just barely, and then ... the sidebar has next to nothing to do with anything except - the central theme(s). This is the where the personality factor of Openness factors in--if you're not of a like mind/brain--it'll drive you nuts. The story has no ending, the book ends.

Theme: The strongest case for reading this book. DFW says the book is about: Tennis; Addiction; & Entertainment. It is that, and more. Some readers struggle with the minutiae of tennis. But the game of tennis and the discipline required is a metaphor for life, in Wallace's mind. This is what is taught at the academy, and also all the AA stuff, characters and references. Delay of gratification and effort and struggle are their own rewards ... blah,blah, blah and yada, yada. Life is a GAME and it is not about you or who wins that matters. Ironically--nothing matters. Addiction is covered from head to toe, from its genesis to its usually horrific conclusion. You think you're not, addicted, maybe you should read this book for that reason. Entertainment and the individual and that relationship- ship's- ships' (Wallace's style is infectious) exploitation by design and by fate (Never named.). Then there is the issue of control, choice, and self-determination, which is the underpinning of The Game, Addictions, & Entertainment. Is it (control) really just a delusion? So why not - seek pleasure and submit to ecstasy? And running beneath the underpinning is all the unnamed Freudian stuff (Also, never named.)--that childhood decides. That even the best of intentions can have disastrous consequences, and not even here to get into all the horror of the ubiquitous neglectful, abusive, and incestuous parenting stuff that Wallace explores. And finally [not really possible] Wallace's take on reincarnation--that YOU will be killed by a woman, and that that woman will be your mother in your next life.

Got time? Time to explore who you are and why you do what you do--to step outside your cage and study yourself as subject? Take a vacation ... haha.

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an individual

5.0 out of 5 stars

brilliant encyclopedic novel

Reviewed in Canada on February 15, 2022

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This book is long, and is a slog at times, but the passages of brilliance encourage you forward, and in the end it is a rewarding experience. I initially skipped a few of the end notes, but they are several that are an integral part of the story, so I would recommend reading them all, to have a more immersive experience, the way DFW intended.

The book is hard to summarize, and the plot is difficult to follow at times, but there are universal truths dispersed throughout, particularly regarding addiction and familial psychology, and even tennis, that create a feeling you want to read it again, or at least those profound sections.

If you have read anything about DFW, you realize how autobiographical IJ is; from his days of youth tennis, to his struggles with addiction. It can be read as an insight into the troubled soul of a brilliant writer, but it is also much more than that; an exploration of what it is to be human in a culture obsessed with entertainment and destructive addictions, and how our loneliness pushes us further into these traps.