Tag: DFW

DFW on the modern age.

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David Foster Wallace in interview. You’ll have to turn the volume up, as it’s quite quiet. It’s part one of ten – I’m up to three, and I’m pretty sure you should watch it. It starts on humour, and moves on to talk about the things we worship and the way we are as a society. It relates a lot to Infinite Jest, (although the book was published seven years before this) – I suspect it bridges the gap between that book and the unfinished The Pale King. It’s similar to his commencement address from Kenyon College in 2005 (now published as This Is Water) – which you can (and should) read here.

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J'adore.

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From Pictures for sad children. It’s perfection.

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something I have been waiting my whole life for.

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Well, ok, not my whole life, but the last month and a half at least. You may have noticed my burgeoning affection for David Foster Wallace, and his wonderous writing, since I discovered him at the end of last year. Now there is MOOOOORE.

Acutually there probably is more, lots more, since there are probably humungeous numbers of his essays and short stories out there uncollected, not to mention whatever else he was working on. But this isn’t about that. This is about Tennis. Or DFW and Tennis.

David Foster Wallace having been a junior tennis player, properly (as opposed to those of us who just played junior tennis for shits’n'giggles), gets tennis and is pretty much one of the best writers about the game I have ever read. His essay ‘How Tracy Austin Broke My Heart’ started my affection – because it is just so true. Really great sports people can’t explain it. It’s why the best sporting autobiographies are by the slightly less brilliantly talented. Why Will Greenwood’s autobiography is better than Jason Robinson’s, and so on. And then I came across his essay ‘Tennis Player Michael Joyce’s Professional Artistry as a Paradigm of Certain Stuff about Choice, Freedom, Discipline, Joy, Grotesquerie, and Human Completeness’ (which was originally an Esquire article called ‘The String Theory’), which became the best essay on tennis I’d ever read, despite his lack of affection for Andre Agassi.(1) I read Infinite Jest, which gave me a whole new appreciation for junior tennis, and made me wonder, whilst watching Wimbledon whether the likes of Murray, Monfils, Federer and those other former junior stars were ever as loopy as Hal, Pemulis, John-no-relation-Wayne, et al.  Read more...

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Infinite Jest

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So, in order to Get It Read, I packed David Foster Wallace’s Monumentally Huge Novel Infinite Jest in my bag for Tanzania. And now I find that bunches of other people are also reading it this summer, and blogging about it. For example – here at Infinite Summer, or here at A Supposedly Fun Thing. Matt Yglesias, of Think Progess is reading it too. There’s also an Infinite Jest wiki, and a guide to reading Infinite Jest that I really wish I’d seen in advance – although I would have skipped to page 223, because I am that person.

A little bit of me is doing the dance of ‘I read it first’. Because I have now finished Infinite Jest, so clearly I am ahead of the pack, making me cooler than cool. But a little bit of me is sad, because it is an amazing idea to read Infinite Jest at the same time as a bunch of other people, and share the experience with them. I keep wanting to talk to people about it, and no-one I know has read it. I think I have Eleanor convinced to read it now, because I kept telling her about it whilst we were away. And I know Joe wants to read it, he just needs to find the time. And time is the issue – I wouldn’t have had time to read Infinite Jest over the summer, because I am embarking on the final editing process of my thesis, and Big Fat Absorbing Books are a big no-no. So I’m just going to enjoy watching other people enjoy it. It’s an amazing piece of literature, though, and I’m going to read it again just as soon as I can find the time because I still need to puzzle out the ending a little. I know I love it, even without entirely getting it, but I want to try and get it a little better.  Read more...

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