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The list of these things for me would be rather long, probably.
Book #31: A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again
Author: David Foster Wallace
Provenance: Borrowed from Westmount Library
Everyone knows that one's reading time is limited, and so if you haven't read any particular book, or even a particular author, it can't really come as too much of a surprise. When you haven't even heard of a prominent author, though, that can be rather embarrassing, and so it is to my discredit that I confess before Wallace's suicide, I'd never heard of him. There were all these outpourings of horror that such a talented figure should off himself, and I was left frantically searching to see who he was, even. So I'd decided that at some point, I should give his stuff a try, and even if it took a few years, I did get there. I'd been told starting with his essay collections first made a better intro to feeling out his style than the fiction, so I started with this, the first one.
I can fairly easily say that you get into the writing fairly quickly, and that the professions of admiration for Wallace's style are not off-base. As with most of these cases, there is of course varying quality within the collection - one feels the short book review might not belong, and while the essay on television is interesting and in some ways prescient, I feel it's also rather dated, as well. Looking at it as an analysis of the state of TV at the time makes it feel more valid; after all, it's nearly 20 years past now, that essay, and it still reads well enough.
I did enjoy the Lost Highway and David Lynch essay, and the playing with structure that involved, but I think my favorite pieces in the book really are the ones that can be described as almost travelogues: the piece from a Montreal tennis tournament on tennis player Michael Joyce and what it means to be very, very good and dedicated, but still never as good as one could be, the sacrifices and the gains; the post from the Illinois State Fair, with the looks at the differences in culture; the essay from the long cruise, and the changes that come over one when everything is taken care of. They're long essays, quite sizable chunks of work, and yet getting through them, footnotes and all, never feels like a chore.
I guess that this is the point of Wallace, from what I know: all the desire to be rigorous, to get across all the information one can precisely, while still looking to entertain. There are some very funny passages, after all, but overall, the pleasure of the reading is from getting a different, curious viewpoint, trying to really grapple with the world around him and figure out how to fit things into coherent themes and views, without trivializing the people and experiences in front of him, even if he didn't personally enjoy them. The style of the essays, with the footnotes and the length of the sentences and the drive to connect with everyone he can wherever he is, is definitely different; it's not quite academic, which I appreciate. I do enough academic reading.
On the whole, then, I did enjoy the collection. I don't think I'm as rapturous about him as many people seem to be, but I do get what the fuss is about, and I'll probably try the other big essay collection before too long. But at least I can say, as an author and a character, he's definitely worth knowing about. I'm glad I gave it a try.
Next up: Um. Well. Let's see what I feel like tomorrow. Discount Armageddon, perhaps.
Book #31: A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again
Author: David Foster Wallace
Provenance: Borrowed from Westmount Library
Everyone knows that one's reading time is limited, and so if you haven't read any particular book, or even a particular author, it can't really come as too much of a surprise. When you haven't even heard of a prominent author, though, that can be rather embarrassing, and so it is to my discredit that I confess before Wallace's suicide, I'd never heard of him. There were all these outpourings of horror that such a talented figure should off himself, and I was left frantically searching to see who he was, even. So I'd decided that at some point, I should give his stuff a try, and even if it took a few years, I did get there. I'd been told starting with his essay collections first made a better intro to feeling out his style than the fiction, so I started with this, the first one.
I can fairly easily say that you get into the writing fairly quickly, and that the professions of admiration for Wallace's style are not off-base. As with most of these cases, there is of course varying quality within the collection - one feels the short book review might not belong, and while the essay on television is interesting and in some ways prescient, I feel it's also rather dated, as well. Looking at it as an analysis of the state of TV at the time makes it feel more valid; after all, it's nearly 20 years past now, that essay, and it still reads well enough.
I did enjoy the Lost Highway and David Lynch essay, and the playing with structure that involved, but I think my favorite pieces in the book really are the ones that can be described as almost travelogues: the piece from a Montreal tennis tournament on tennis player Michael Joyce and what it means to be very, very good and dedicated, but still never as good as one could be, the sacrifices and the gains; the post from the Illinois State Fair, with the looks at the differences in culture; the essay from the long cruise, and the changes that come over one when everything is taken care of. They're long essays, quite sizable chunks of work, and yet getting through them, footnotes and all, never feels like a chore.
I guess that this is the point of Wallace, from what I know: all the desire to be rigorous, to get across all the information one can precisely, while still looking to entertain. There are some very funny passages, after all, but overall, the pleasure of the reading is from getting a different, curious viewpoint, trying to really grapple with the world around him and figure out how to fit things into coherent themes and views, without trivializing the people and experiences in front of him, even if he didn't personally enjoy them. The style of the essays, with the footnotes and the length of the sentences and the drive to connect with everyone he can wherever he is, is definitely different; it's not quite academic, which I appreciate. I do enough academic reading.
On the whole, then, I did enjoy the collection. I don't think I'm as rapturous about him as many people seem to be, but I do get what the fuss is about, and I'll probably try the other big essay collection before too long. But at least I can say, as an author and a character, he's definitely worth knowing about. I'm glad I gave it a try.
Next up: Um. Well. Let's see what I feel like tomorrow. Discount Armageddon, perhaps.
