When I'm not working or at the gym or running or sleeping, I'm reading. Relegated to a lifestyle recently that borders monastic. Infinite Jest, a behemoth of a novel and David Foster Wallace's magnum opus, has consumed me. Referred to infrequently or perhaps frequently (depending on which dark corners of the internet or the real world you frequent) as the modern day Ulysses, Infinite Jest is accused of being a pretentious read. I can see that.
What started as a clambering effort to get the literary wheels turning now flows freely. I was for a time having to put forth sincere effort to feel anything emotive for the book. This all seemed to evaporate without my knowing perhaps 200 pages in. I acclimated to the voluminous diction DFW employs, and I adapted to the monolithic 500+ word run-on sentences that sometimes outlasted the pages they were written on. Furthermore, character depth can only increase over time when performed artfully, and DFW is nothing if not artful.
What seems interesting, as I read this book, is this: David Foster Wallace battled addiction and depression throughout his life, as is clearly apparent in this book, but he wrote Infinite Jest during a period of abstinence from substances. This makes sense to me, when I read the abundant clarity in his writing. However, more interestingly, this book DEMANDS that you be sober to read it as well. You simply would not be able to absorb the content elsewise. And so once you are interested in this book, and make it your priority, you would as a result shelf any vice you may have in order to comprehend the text.
Interesting!
I just purchased a chunk of music, the lineup of which pleases me. Have a gander if you want.
Until next time.
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