Consider the Lobster: And Other Essays by David Foster Wallace

I’ve never read Wallace, mostly because his best known work (”Infinite Jest”) is so long. But I tend to like writers that digress and use footnotes for asides, so I thought maybe this collection of ten essays would give me enough of a taste to know if I should check out his other stuff. Ranging in length from 7 to 80 pages, the essays all appeared previously (albeit often truncated) in various magazines such as Harper’s, The Atlantic, Gourmet, Rolling Stone, Premier, etc. They can be roughly categorized into three categories: brief review, personal piece, and long in-depth topical examination.

The brief reviews generally tend to take an item and use it as a staging area for discussing something more interesting than the given subject. For example, in “Certainly the End of Something or Other”, Wallace uses his review of John Updike’s novel Toward the End of Time to highlight the general narcissism and shallowness of writers such as Updike, Philip Roth, and Norman Mailer. His 20-page review of Joseph Frank’s biography of Dostoevsky is largely dedicated to making a larger point about literary criticism, and his 25-page review of tennis player Tracy Austin’s autobiography is similarly dedicated to identifying the fundamental problem of sports memoirs. I have to admit that the essential point of the shortest piece, “Some Remarks on Kafka’s Funniness”, eluded me.

The two more personal pieces are strikingly different, but in each one gets a vivid impression of Wallace working through his own feelings. In, “The View From Mrs. Thompson’s”, he uses 13 pages to recount his own September 11 experience in Bloomington, Indiana. As one reads of the mysterious sprouting of flags, Wallace’s hunt for a flag of his own, and his spending the day watching the footage with old ladies who’ve never been to New York, his mounting alienation from his neighbors is fascinating. The titular story is ostensibly a standard travel piece on a Maine lobster festival, but rapidly evolves into a thoughtful meditation (with scientific research) on the ethics of preparing and eating lobster.

The four in-depth essays are the real stars of the book, in each Wallace gets deep into his material and wallows in it with intellectual vigor and above all, wit. In the 50-page “Big Red Son”, he covers the porn Oscars and emerges with scenes and quotes so surreal they must be true. Over the course of the 50-page “Authority and American Usage”, he takes a topic close to his heart as a writing instructor and provides a layman’s overview of the Prescriptivist vs. Descriptivist “usage wars”. The underbelly of political campaigning is exposed in the 80-page “Up Simba”, detailing his week on the John McCain’s 2000 campaign trail — the ultimate lesson is that if you want the most astute and nuanced political analysis, turn to the camera and sound techs, not the journos. Finally, the 70-page “Host” takes us into the world of talk radio, via a profile of an LA radio personality. All of these long pieces are wonderful (albeit in very different ways), as they allow Wallace’s intellect the space to range free and elaborate.

Ultimately, it’s not hard to see why Wallace is a MacArthur Foundation “Genius” award-winner. His combination of smarts, thoughtfulness, self-awareness, wit, and ability to write killer prose simply can’t be ignored. One does have to raise an eyebrow at his overuse of footnotes, however. While I’m a big fan of footnotes (yes, even in fiction), I find Wallace’s use of footnotes within footnotes rather tiresome (not to mention tough on the eyes). In many instances, it seems like the material could have been handled much more elegantly within the text, or within a parenthetical. This is especially true of “Host”, which is very nearly ruined by the attempt to use boxed text and arrows to replace footnotes. There’s no textual reason for the method, and the experiment doesn’t work at all, only serving to highlight the unnecessary divisions of information and reducing their navigability.

Although a few of the pieces failed to totally captivate me, and the overfootnoting grated (especially in it’s final iteration), this is still a highly entertaining and enlightening book. Chuck Klosterman’s essays are like potato chips — yummy, hard to stop at just one, and not super filling. Wallace’s are generally a full nutritious meal at your favorite restaurant.

A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again: Essays and Arguments by David Foster Wallace

The wit just doesn’t quit in Chapters 3 (the Illinois State Fair) and 7 (a seven-night cruise aboard the m.v. Zenith, which the author renames the Nadir).

Don’t think I’ve ever seen travel or destination writing that so perfectly captured the idiocy of luxury travel, the streaked-glass humidity in Miami, the quirks of one’s dining companions at a cruise ship table, the sullen expressions on the vendors in Cozumel, the snarkiness of carnies at a state fair, the exultant spirit of the Prairie State Cloggers busting moves to Aretha, and pretty much every other detail that captures Wallace’s eye.

Chapters 1, 2, 4, 5 and 6 went right over my head, but if you are into tennis, post-modernism or mathematics, you might do fine. Here Wallace thinks about various topics as opposed to experiencing them.

And even if you only like chapters 3 and 7, that’s a good 200 pages of wild reading.

The author has a little habit of inserting footnotes* that make his story fold in on itself.

* that run across multiple pages and sometimes there are footnotes ** to the footnotes
** which can be confusing ***.
*** but the guy’s writing is so incredibly fun. He won’t say “an all-male audience listened to the ship’s captain,” Instead it’s, “Of the 40 or so Naderites at this lecture, the total number of women is: 0.” Note to self: steal some of this writer’s technique.

Yes, Wallace is a writer’s writer, puckish and observant, who engaging lets his silences (like the pauses in jazz, or empty spaces in a Japanese rock garden) speak volumes. Once you get in the Wallace groove, he gets funnier and funnier. See for example the delicious understatement in passage about the dessert competitions at the state fair on page 111 … followed by some pained hints about hospitals, and transverse colon rupture. It’s like reading the winners of the Bulwer Lytton contest, you smile a little, and then it just gets punchier and punchier.

Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace

With “Infinite Jest,” David Foster Wallace has created an exhaustive, and exhausting, look at modern life. Set in a twisted but strangely recognizable near-future North American semi-dystopia, the book sets forth Wallace’s own post-apocalyptic vision. Wallace’s future hasn’t been ravaged by nuclear war, but rather by Americans’ increasing dependence on material possessions, controlled substances, and above all, entertainment. Although you have to navigate through Wallace’s myriad (and often entertaining) rhetorical excesses to find them, this book is filled with profound statements on the nature of choice and the pull of addiction.

The radically non-linear plot is centered on a likably dysfunctional family named the Incandenzas. James Incandenza (aka Himself), a tennis-academy founder and wannabe film artiste, has killed himself by sticking his head in a microwave before the book’s action, leaving his promiscuous wife and three sons: the emotionless tennis/lexicographal prodigy Hal, professional football punter Orin, and the deformed but endearing Mario. Their everyday problems may be removed from what most readers experience, but Wallace still manages to make the Incandenzas, including the late and eccentric Himself, into relatable characters in one way or another.

Himself has also left another legacy in the form of “Infinite Jest,” an entertainment cartridge (the book takes place after conventional TV has given way to all-cartridge viewing) so addictive that it turns the viewer into a mindless zombie with no desire whatsoever to do anything but watch the film again. A group of murderous and legless Quebecois separists (the Wheelchair Assassins, who provided the inspiration for my reviewer name) are trying to get a hold of a master copy of this tape to distribute throughout the newly created Organization Of North American Nations. If this cartridge sounds like a metaphor, it’s because it is. It isn’t hard to guess that Wallace probably feels modern-day notions of entertainment are rotting our brains and free will even as we speak, albeit a lot more slowly and insidiously.

The plot isn’t the main attraction here, though. It merely serves a springboard for some inspired weirdness. Not even Chuck Palahniuk displays such a gift for alternating between the profound and oddball as Wallace. In one scene, two characters are having a philosophical debate about the nature of choice in modern-day society. In another, Wallace is expounding on Orin Incandenza’s gift for punting a football (as a raging football fan, I found this passage especially enthralling). In another, we get to see how the United States ceded its toxic waste-infested Northeast corner to Canada to form O.N.A.N. What do these three passages have to do with each other? Little to nothing, but they’re all gripping just the same.

Wallace devotes long passages to the state of America life in his near future and how it got that way. His descriptions of the evolution of entertainment from TV to viewing cartridges displays a remarkable perception of how entertainment works and what people want from it. Wallace occasionally delves into winding, wordy descriptions of Himself’s film work, which apparently straddled a fine line between profound and pretentious. Himself’s films, with names like “Blood Sister: One Tough Nun,” “Baby Pictures Of Famous Dictators” and “Good Looking Men In Small Clever Rooms That Utilize Every Centimeter Of Available Space With Mind-Boggling Efficiency,” serve as catalysts for speculations on what people like Himself hope to achieve through film, how others view it, and what our views of entertainment say about us as individuals.

The book, as this site’s editorial review mentions, contains an enormous cast befitting a work of such magnitude, and Wallace has a knack for creating flawed, but likeable, characters. Much of the action takes place at a tennis academy and drug addicts’ halfway house in the fictional Massachusetts town of Enfield, and Wallace paints vivid portraits of the residents of both of these institutions. Everyone is this book seemingly has some sort of issue, whether in their past or present, and there are few if any characters here who could be described as completely “normal.” But that’s part of what makes reading this book fun.

Of course, the most attention-grabbing aspect of the book is Wallace’s stunning verbal dexterity. This guy can seemingly make words do whatever he wants them to do, and I often found myself enthralled by passages that had little if anything to do with any conventional plot mechanism. Wallace’s description of an amazingly abstract and complex tennis-academy game called Eschaton may not serve any real purpose in the narrative, but it had me glued to the pages just the same. He even manages to make tennis, a sport in which I have no interest whatsoever, seem fascinating because he writes with such a wide-ranging scope and grasp of detail.

Of course, with a book this long (about a thousand pages), what I’ve written is just an overview. Everyone can get something different out of this book, and if some of the less enthusiastic reviews on this site are any indication, some people will get nothing out of it. But you still owe it to yourself to read it and find out for yourself what it holds for you. So if you have an extra three months or so on your hands, “Infinite Jest” is definitely worth your time.

Oblivion: Stories by David Foster Wallace

David Foster Wallace is a unique writer and has developed a following who seem enchanted with the emperor’s new clothes. That is in no way a put-down: there are many writers who have a style of writing that appeals to certain readers and not others, and that does not discount those writers’ gifts. For example, there are many readers who have yet to wade through all the volumes of Marcel Proust’s “A la Recherche du Temps Perdu (In Search of Lost Time),” or have struggled through James Joyce’s “Ulysses” or “Finnegan’s Wake” , or have been frustrated with TS Eliot’s phrasing, Virginia Wolff’s and Gertrude Stein’s styles, etc. My frustration with reading David Foster Wallace in general, and OBLIVION in particular, is that it all seems so self indulgent. Yes, we all love to be challenged into following thought lines that meander for pages, sometimes as a single sentence, if the thought pursued is additive. Wallace is obviously bright and is most assuredly clever and can write hilarious insights into the foibles of living in 2004. Some of these stories are uncommonly terse and complete: “Incarnations of Burned Children” is a masterpiece of short story development in a matter of a few dense pages. But for the most part, for this reader, Wallace puts us on a roller coaster ride that feels more like an intellectual sideshow gag than one concerned with a story. “Mister Squishy” is more a novella that just doesn’t seem to know how to get where it wants to go. Yes, a healthy dollop of patience and indulgence and extended periods of time will uncover some excellent wordsmithing, but Wallace is an acquired taste. I just haven’t acquired it.

Brief Interviews with Hideous Men by David Foster Wallace

There’s no doubt in my mind that DFW is the best fiction writer living in this country. _Brief Interviews_ is astoundingly funny and sad and completely pertinent. Entertainment AND pertinence — I wish more American writers could fuse the 2 half as masterfully as DFW. _BI_ is structurally amazing, too: nobody else could construct DFW’s lengthy sentences and always, consistently, remain crystal clear. So then but only thing I found lacking in this book was about ten more stories.

The Broom of the System by David Foster Wallace

I would have adored this book, except for two things. One is the character of Rick Vigorous, and the second is every scene in which he appears. To misquote and mangle Will Rogers, I have metafiction I didn’t like! You can see the genius that would produce Infinite Jest in certain scenes and especially in the minor (unfortunately) character of Stonecipher LaVache Beadsman. He’s quite good. The book has other glimmers of joy in it, no doubt, but all in all I just didn’t want to read it very much. What can you do to suspend your disbelief when you have characters named Judith Prietht and Candy Mandible?

Girl With Curious Hair by David Foster Wallace

Wallace seems to be playing with all possible styles in this one; I get the distinct feeling talking with him would involve many sentence fragments punctuated by insane non-sequitors.

This collection is notable for a couple of “must-reads”: the story with the poor guy who’s eyeballs fall out at the worst possible moments and a very different crowd who attend a Keith Jarrett concert. Worth the price just to indulge in these two excursions into Wallace’s world…

Everything and More by David Foster Wallace

Sorry if this book is an affront to some “Harvard” scholars and “PhD physicists” (or those that pretend to be the above) but for people in the real word, alas I am a lowly engineer, this book is a lot of FUN TO READ. It could even encourage some readers to want to learn more about the topic. I don’t understand why some math and science professionals are always insulted when non-science writers, especially one as talented as David Foster Wallace, try their hand at writing on math and science. Wallace doesn’t pretend to be an “expert” but he knows how to keep us interested and, yes, sometimes inspire us. He provides a detailed bibiliography for those who want to learn more. Best popular math book I’ve read since Paul Hoffman’s, The Man Who Loved Only Numbers and David Ruelle’s, Chance and Chaos.

McCain’s Promise: Aboard the Straight Talk Express with John McCain and a Whole Bunch of Actual Reporters, Thinking About Hope by David Foster Wallace and Jacob Weisberg

but author david foster wallace committed suicide two days ago. not sure what that says about the current state of presidential politics, if anything. rest in peace, david. a huge loss.

The Best American Essays 2007 (The Best American Series by David Foster Wallace and Robert Atwan

The diverse collection of 22 essays address some of the most urgent issues we’re facing today. Here are some highlights:

“A Carnivore’s Credo” by Roger Scruton: He writes a unique defense of meat-eating and rebukes vegetarianism.

“What Should a Billionaire Give–and What Should You?” by Peter Singer. He presents what many will find to be an extreme view of charity.

“Dragon Slayers”by Jarald Walker. The author, an African American, refutes a definition of embattled victimization as too limiting to African Americans.

“Apocalypse Now” by Edward O. Wilson. Wilson’s attempt to bridge the gulf between science and religion in a “letter” to Baptists challenges the practices of both the scientific and religious community.

“An Orgy of Power” by George Gessert. The author shows the disturbing use of torture in US policy as being out of bounds historically.

“Loaded” by Garret Keizer. A “progressive” defense of gun ownership rooted in a Hobbesian worldview lays out the gun debate in a way I’ve never seen.

“What the Dog Saw” by Malcolm Gladwell. The author profiles “dog whisperer”and shows that many American dog owners unwittingly harm their dogs when they treat their pets like humans.

“Petrified” by John Lahr. He shows the curse of stage-fright and self-consciousness and why there is a moral imperative to overcome these afflictions.

“Onward, Christian Liberals” by Marilynne Robinson. The author rebukes “fundamentalism” by arguing that it is a betrayal of real Christianity.

David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest: A Reader’s Guide by Stephen Burn

A remarkable book - and a fitting tribute to DFW’s wonderful novel. Quite how Stephen Burn has managed to cram so much lucid opinion and information into a book of this brevity is beyond me, but he should be warmly applauded for doing so. One quibble only, for the publishers: labelling this book a ‘readers guide’ is doing it a disservice. Burn’s book is much, much more than that.

Up, Simba! by David Foster Wallace

It’s hard *not* to find something written by or about David Foster Wallace these days, and this e-book is an interesting addition to the journalistic pieces like the ones he’s written for Harper’s. For one thing, Wallace’s mordant wit is as sharp and evenly placed here as ever. Better yet: the e-book contains material that was cut (Wallace explains why in the e-book) from the original publication in Rolling Stone. The e-book also helps you navigate through Wallace’s footnotes easily and quickly.

Chesterton is at his best in his criticism, and this is no exception. His novels show something o the Dickensian flare, but nowhere is he more apreciative of the master than here.

Chesterton is indeed at his best writing about Dickens. Before you buy this edition, be forewarned that the editors have cut almost 20pp. from Chesterton’s introduction, leaving a mere 2pp.

Zip file of the entire book 244 MB

At six foot four, weighing in at 300 pounds, Chesterton was certainly the biggest writer of the Victorian/ Edwardian era. But why was he always laughing? “I suppose I enjoy myself more than other people because there’s such a lot of me having a good time.” If that doesn’t make you want to read this book, nothing will. But that’s only from the Introduction of this 300 page book, the tip, if you will, of the iceberg.

As with Ahlquist’s earlier book, The Apostle of Common Sense, this book is collected from TV shows that played on EWTN. However, the reaction I continually had when watching the first series on video was “Ah! Let me write that down!” The great thing about that book (and this one) is that it is written down. Not only that, the book ends with a biography of all the books by Chesterton, with brief and very helpful annotations (notes) on each book. Most of the Chesterton I’ve read I found out about either from Dale’s other book or his notes on books sent out by the American Chesterton Society, of which he is president.

In between these two bookends, as it were, I expected quotes from GKC, but it’s more than that, with our host providing what are likely slightly revised transcripts of the shows. So you get a cornucopia of Chesterton, with footnotes of where it came from so you can track down those books, but also Dale’s engaging writing. In my view, he is the Boswell if Chesterton is Johnson. It’s as if he were introducing us to a particularly zany uncle or grandfather who afterwards we can not wait to visit.

Rock savvy readers will place my title as a spoken aside from “Stairway to Heaven”, but this book gives the answer. “Angels can fly because they take themselves lightly,” quipped GKC. For all his poundage, so did he. Ahlquist invites us to that forgotten realm where easy laughter is part and parcel of common sense.

Tina Modotti was a restless soul on an journey through art, politics, and history. A courageous fighter and humanitarian until the end. Tina is a true heroine with a strong passion for life, and love for photography.

Tina Modotti was not only a good photographer, she was a GREAT one! I don’t think we would even know who she was today if it wasn’t for her wonderful photographs. I loved this little book and it’s a perfect companion to Margaret Hooks’ excellent biography: Tina Modotti, Photographer and revolutionary. All Tina fans should have this!

Tina Mondotti on Modotti’s photos of postrevolutionary Mexico in the 1920s and also reveals how feminists changed her image in the 1980s, providing an intriguing survey of the changing critical attention to her works and revealing the extent of her achievements. This blends biography, art criticism and social history and provides far more depth and detail than the usual Mondotti monograph.

As someone who has followed the Modotti saga for several years, I was struck by the depth and beauty of Albers’ rendering of Tina Modotti’s complex life. Shadows, Fire, Snow is a joy to read!

Zip file of the entire book

I have never been much of a poetry reader–mostly because I have often found it to be obtuse or irrelevant. My opinion changed, though, after reading Eric Shaffer’s work. I loved PORTABLE PLANET (his first collection of poems), and LIVING IN THE MONASTERY, WORKING IN THE KITCHEN was even better! His poetry is fresh, humorous and filled with simple images that manage to evoke complex emotions. “Will good and evil deeds be weighed?/Who ponders such nonsense is lost.” — simple truth, eloquently stated. Buy this book and forget your preconceived notions about poetry. Eric Shaffer will blow them out of the water!

These lyrics, from a 9th century zen monk who knows his way around work and play, arrogance and humility, keep bringing us back: to work, to our places in the pecking order, to friends and how they do and do not understand us, to seeing our suffering for what it is and what it is not. Shih te announces, “The kitchen I work in is dark, / but clean as a kernal of uncooked rice . . . My broom stands by the stove, / palm-polished wood in easy reach / should I wish to sweep red dust around the room.” And in a time when the retreat centers and spiritual workshops are full, Shih te takes a sly look at his buddy Han Shan: “Most days I refuse / Cold Peak’s invitation to the clouds. / In the kitchen, fire cooks rice / but only with the willing work of water. / I am happy as I am, / and that’s enough.”
Like his PORTABLE PLANET, these poems come with a set of instructions: “Do your work. Stop. Listen. Eat. Wash your bowls. Sit still. Breathe.” I hesitated to read anymore; what else could there be? But there’s more!

Nothing to do on a Friday night or snowbound in front of the fireplace? Fear not! Your entertainment has arrived. This novel showcases Robert Louis Stevenson’s penchant for what today is called “dark comedy.” It might be described as tongue-in-cheek reportage of a flurry of characters who find ingenious ways of fobbing off onto others a box containing a corpse, though not the corpse of the man who was thought to be the corpse, who actually is not even dead! It gets complicated, you see. The best thing about the book–other than its hilarious plot and ironic tone–is the way Stevenson picks through the mind of each character in search of something rational. Like the novel *A Simple Plan*, so much of the text comprises interior dialogue that it would be hard to turn this into a movie, but it was done once (in the 1960s) and is due, I think, for a re-make. Owen Wilson would be a natural for this one!

Zip file of the entire book (182 MB)