The Infinite Jest Challenge

So before I unveil to you and our three or four loyal readers the attempt that is my Infinite Jest themed place mat, I do want to address your curious desire to meet DFW in person. Because I have.

The funny thing about trying to remember somebody you saw for one evening four years ago is that you really can’t. Which is pretty useful when you’re writing fiction because all that’s left is the essence of the thing, but when trying to describe a memory of Him in the context of this blog, it’s kind of annoying that I didn’t take notes. Yes, I did just write Him. Because on this night, David Foster Wallace was to his dozens of geeked out fans flanking my left and right on that cold metal fold out chair Him himself. Not as in Himself, but Him, God Him.

It was 2004 and I was but a wee tyke in the world of literary gamesmanship and I crawled into that auditorium at the Hammer Museum in LA having read maybe one collection of His essays and a few stories. By the end of the reading that evening the one memorable thought I remember having was: good, I’ll never mix his name up with Dave Eggers’ again.

Which is why I really relate to this account of the evening’s proceedings by Mark Sarvas who himself is not a big fan of His fiction. In fact, if I’d known about Mr. Sarvas being in attendance, I would have been much more curious to talk to him (not Him) about his blog. Instead, I think this was the reading where I sat next to Alexander Payne who seemed like a very nice guy. On second thought, that can’t be true because I remember someone whispering to me at the reading containing aforementioned brush with Alexander Payne that he just divorced Sandra Oh. And that happened in 2005. See what happens when you don’t take notes? And why am I reinforcing the stereotype that celebrities are very readily accessible and in fact a part of our daily living here in Los Angeles? Oh well.

Mark Sarvas’ photo of the audience - I’m somewhere in that seething mass of fanboys and girls

I’ll just crib from Mr. Sarvas’ post and comment:

“I found Wallace to have a winning personality – he’s a charming reader, a gracious interviewee and a funny guy. He also strikes me as a total chameleon – no two of his publicity photos seem to resemble the other, and the guy on stage last night – who looked like a husky, genial if unassuming customer service rep at Circuit City – looked nothing like the photo advertising the event.” [DFW can resemble both you and John C. Reilly after all. And I confirm that DFW did in fact look like a sales representative. He has definitely rocking the polo.]

“I do admit to having felt a bit out of place at the reading, which was clearly peopled with acolytes and groupies. As we lined up in the courtyard, Wallace could be heard testing the sound system (wryly imitating Dubya, speaking of “hard work”) and I watched the Wallaceites look up eagerly, grasping every vatic utterance.” [There is also a great video of this moment when DFW very underhandedly insults a question from the member of the audience - everyone just ate it up. Lamb to the lions. It was the closest thing to a sporting event I think those fans had ever been to; not counting the junior level tennis tournaments they attended to research Infinte Jest]

“I did learn some interesting things – that he admits Infinite Jest is “tedious in some places,” [I remember him saying this and now that I read it I also remember thinking, "I will never read that book. Never." Let's have a moment of silence to the most edifying thing I've heard all day.]

“The most illuminating thing he [DFW] said, however, helped me codify why I don’t, finally, care for his fiction. He spoke at length on the subject of irony, on being a product of the TV generation, and he confessed that ‘drama, doing straight stuff feels cheesy’ – an impulse that he also admitted (though perhaps not entirely genuinely) felt like some sort of failure on his own part. But he admitted an ‘absolute terror of appearing sentimental’ and compared talking about things straight to ‘having a prostate exam.’

I believe that he’s a writer afraid to treat his characters both as humans and humanely because of this dread of sentimentality. But I think it’s a mistake to conflate the two, and it’s particularly disappointing coming from Wallace, since he’s written so eloquently on the subject of irony and its pitfalls” [What do you think about this, Liz? I think as a reader I am very sympathetic to Mark's plight, but at the same time I don't think DFW gave a fuck. The general tone of the evening was of a very controlled modesty leveled by an electric feeling of hype in the air. DFW mentioned several times how unsure he is of himself and I do believe him when he says that, being so regarded as a writer. But I think he is cocksure enough to know that he's going to play these literary games whether anyone likes it or not. The more I think about it, reading Infinite Jest is like encountering a massively swollen ego that has been massaged into an intricate mathetical structure.]

“Perhaps if he were to take some of the risks he describes, I’d find the shelter of his fiction to be a warmer more inviting place. But it’s a cold and alienating world of nameless babies and faceless bureaucrats and, to be frank, Kafka did it first and better, although when considered against the appreciative audience Friday night, I appear to hold a minority view.

But I really, really did like the guy a whole lot. And I’d even go hear him read again.” [I agree again. He really was entertaining, despite the fact that I don't remember his actual reading at all.]

P.S. Maybe hindsight will change things, but I need to reiterate to you (outside our private conversations that we have away from the magical land that is this blog) that I am really looking forward to finishing this book. It’s been exasperating and I keep thinking back to that comment you made that it’s hardly worth it slogging through the torrential rain to get to the one patch of dry land where the writing is actually affecting.