On Infinite Jest, DFW, and the Power of Fiction.

“What passes for hip cynical transcendence of sentiment is really some kind of fear of being really human, since to be really human is probably to be unavoidably sentimental and na?ve and goo-prone and generally pathetic.”

“Fiction is one of the few experiences where loneliness can be both confronted and relieved.”?

David Foster Wallace

I have attempted multiple times to write this. This man is so important to me that no matter what I write or how eloquently I state it, I will not adequately illustrate how I feel about this subject or bring him the praise and justice he deserves.

In high school, I had some burning questions about life that I needed to be answered. Questions like, “What does it mean to be human, let alone a good human?”, “What is the point of this existence?” and “Do you think that girl would make out with me?” To find answers to these questions, I turned to literature. I fell in love with the classics, books such as The Picture of Dorian Gray, the works of Ernest Hemingway, and Abraham Lincoln Vampire Hunter. Most of my questions got answered. Some, obviously, did not.

I would search my local used bookstore (shout out to the Book Garden), looking for any book that dared to look deep into our collective heart and soul like only art truly can. I would peruse the internet, looking for lists of what people deemed the “greatest books ever written.” And I found some treasured volumes that made a lasting impact on me.

During this period in my life, Time magazine came out with the 100 Best Novels ever written. A big fan of Time, I made it my life’s goal to read all 100. I circled the books that were most captivating to me at the time and made the half-hearted promise of a teenager to get to the others later. It was on this list that I first heard of the tome called Infinite Jest (as I write the first reference of this book in this essay, my heart flutters).

Due to unavailability at my used bookstore (come on Book Garden, get it together), I checked out Infinite Jest at the library. I would like to say that I read this book and it changed my life. What actually happened is that I read 100 pages of this 1000+ page book, left it at my bedside table, and then returned it late and incurred late fees. But, as the hypocritical teenage mind is, I vowed to return to it someday.

That someday was in college, where now with more personal funds, I was able to purchase a brand-new copy of Infinite Jest. I made yet another reading attempt, but it was lost to the droves of homework assigned to me. I shelved it for another day.

Fast forward another few years, I am finally out of college and with a little more free-time and literary freedom on my hands. I made the third and final attempt, refusing to read anything else until I reached the final page. I am happy to report that I succeeded.

Infinite Jest is sprawling novel, dividing its time between a tennis academy and a halfway house of sorts. Its characters consist young tennis prodigy, the massive man who serves as protector and overseer of the halfway house, a woman who may or may not be so beautiful that she hides her face under a veil, and a kicker for a professional football team. As a through-line through the novel, there is a movie circulating that is so entertaining that those who watch it become addicted to the point that they spend literally all their time watching the film, ultimately dying of dehydration.

Not only is the actual story verbose but is told through narrative prose and a slew of footnotes, making it one of the most interactive reading experiences yet. Those who ask me about reading the book will often hear me say, “Ya, around page 300, I just had to give up any preconceived notions of the book and give in to the books command of, ‘Read me on my terms, not on yours.’”

But Infinite Jest, to this day, is the only piece of literature that I have read that upon finishing it, I truly felt like I understood what it meant to be human.

David Foster Wallace would probably cringe to hear me talking so affectionately and zealously about him and his work, but I can’t help but feel that he would also recognize the holistic nature of fiction to both uplift, inform, and connect each one of us to each other.

There are some truths in this life that we all intrinsically know though in practice are near impossible to articulate in simple statements. We need story to truly define these truths to ourselves, giving them power and validity. This is the true power of fiction, the “lie that tells a higher truth.” Wallace, I believe, understood this. His greatest achievement, in my humble opinion, was using narrative and prose to both lay bare the human soul and bring these indescribable truths to light.

But what truths could we be referring to? To simply reduce what Infinite Jest is “about” or to summarize what “higher truths” the book is trying to capture would do it a disservice and ?is extremely difficult to do. I refuse to try to summarize and declare, “Infinite Jest is about (fill in the blank here) as shown through (fill in the blank here).” But I will say how I felt reading this book.

I felt the cost and need of addiction. I felt the yearning and dire search that we all have for some form of connection. I felt the pain and joy of family. I understood the ironic and dangerous effects of media, those of which we are now seeing in our social media landscape. I felt the dangers and hypocrisy of our own consumeristic trends.

But above else, I felt understood. That someone really knew what it felt like to be me. That beneath everything, we all are just trying our best and trying to be happy. I felt that shared sentiment that everyone has to simply feel like we are not alone, and that someone actually cares about us.

I have gone on to read many of David Foster Wallace’s other works, all of which cement, fortify, and expound on the original feelings that I had while reading Infinite Jest. But the beauty of Infinite Jest, like all great literature, is that it doesn’t just live within its own pages. It informs our daily lives, peeking out from behind our memory with small little whispers of “Remember when you felt that way while reading me?”

I feel a small hypocritical sense of embarrassment and self-consciousness talking about my love of Infinite Jest simply because I don’t want people to think, “Oh, look at me, I’m so smart because I like this big book.” But that sentiment, and especially in regard to this book, just shows both the dichotomy/hypocrisy of being human (meaning that we want to feel connection and true authenticity but put up walls to both). Infinite Jest is the most powerful and rewarding journey I have taken in attempting to tear those walls down. ?

I have struggled with how to end this train of thought on Wallace, trying to summarize the life, work, and personal influence that his work has had on me. Whether it is his commencement speech titled “This is Water” (which is a great introduction to David Foster Wallace and should be required listening to all humans) or the hilarity and general brilliance of his essays in A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again, his work has gone on to rejuvenate the deepest and most intimate parts of my being, that part of which people call the soul. Wallace took his own life in 2008 (a tragedy that I grieve) but yet his writing is so timeless and relevant that it lives on today, maybe with even greater importance. He may have said it best himself when he said, “It's weird to feel like you miss someone you're not even sure you know.”

I miss him, I cherish him, and I can’t thank him enough for what he gave to me, which is much more than just his words.