In honor of David Foster Wallace

I’ve decided to finally read his rather massive novel, Infinite Jest.

I’m not usually one for grand gestures. In fact, I distrust them. But in this case, I couldn’t help myself. And lest you think that reading a book is far from a grand gesture, consider that it is 1,078 pages long, and we’re not talking a big font and a lot of white space. Infinite Jest is not some fucking James Patterson beach read. I’ve picked this book up many times since it was first published in 1996, and I was still living in Kalamazoo where I went to grad school at Western Michigan University, but have never gotten more than a few pages into it. The size of it just seemed too daunting. Not just the length, but the physical weight of it seemed like it cause a wrist sprain, even the paperback edition, which is what I’m reading now. And then of course there is the intellectual, philosphical weight. I’m sure much of it will go whizzing right over my head. But damn it! I’m committed to reading it this time.


3 responses to “In honor of David Foster Wallace

  1. I’m not sure I do either, Neil. But as of today I am on page 20. And I’m not completely lost.

    I figure if I could read Thomos Pynchon’s, V, and Moby Dick (3 times, brag brag) and Crime and Punishment and Anna Karinina, I can read Infinite Jest. Of course, when I read those books I was younger and had more eneregy, and I was single and had more time.

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