La broma infinita

Hay una parte del libro, casi por la mitad (ya no me acuerdo), en que le dicen a un protagonista que tiene que ponerse de rodillas todas las noches, al lado de la cama, antes de dormir, y agradecer por un día de sobriedad. El tipo no es creyente, entonces no le ve mucha gracia a eso. Pero la gente de las reuniones de adictos anónimos le dicen que no cuestione, sino que haga. Que lo siga haciendo. Que funciona. Lo peor es que sí, funciona.

Esto es algo que me quedó muy presente cuando acabé el libro. Digo, hay muchísimas cosas más. La soledad, la adicción, el éxito, la familia, los problemas de estar vivo, todo envuelto en un entorno futurista casi distópico, que de todas maneras no se siente tan lejano. Pero eso de simplemente hacer algo que uno a lo que no se le encuentra mucho sentido termina siendo revelador. Muchas de las críticas que se pueden encontrar acerca del libro pueden decir que es demasiado denso, o que se enfrascan en una pelea casi personal con el autor, y creo que no se trata de eso. El libro no lo deja fácil al comienzo, pero luego de seguir atravesando todo se llega a un momento en que es casi imposible soltarlo.

Y luego está la sensación que produce al terminarlo. Esto no se trata de la calidad del libro, no creo que pueda dar un juicio objetivo. Sin embargo, puedo decir que al final la recompensa sobrepasa todo lo que se piense, o sienta, al comenzarlo. Recomendaría que no traten de verlo como un libro intratable, ni que, a pesar de lo evidente, se fijen en el tamaño del mismo. Igual, es muy posible que terminen revisitándolo, casi inmediatamente. Así como lo dice el libro: "Le dijeron que se hincara sobre sus rodillas de mamut todas las mañanas y todos los días y rogase a Dios (tal como él lo concibiera) que le quitara ese terrible deseo y que volviera a golpear las viejas rodillas contra el suelo por la noche antes de acostarse y diera gracias a aquel Dios personal por el día pasado sin sustancias si lo había podido pasar. Le sugirieron que guardase los zapatos y las llaves bajo la cama como recordatorio de arrodillarse."

Y ahora soy yo el que se siente en una reunión de adictos anónimos.

Here is a novel that can have many different meanings, depending on who the reader is. There are several plots and theaters being acted out and they do converge in intriguing ways.

I am re-reading this with a small book discussion group, which is making it a different experience. One of the members stated that she was tackling this as a series of short stories, and I will be interested to hear how this came together for her when we reconvene in January.

To me, this tome is mostly about addiction and the various ways D.F. Wallace's characters came by their addictions. Whatever their drug of choice, it was always about passive escape--shoot up and trip, get drunk and forget, or--turn on the television for hours of passive entertainment. All of these things can be done by a loner, in a crowd or alone in a room. It becomes the same.

Part of the majesty of this big novel is the impressive number of characters that Wallace had to create for his many theaters. There is The Enfield Tennis Academy, The Ennet Drug and Alcohol Recovery House, and then there is the world of international politics and terrorism.

The terrorists are focused on finding a film cartridge known as The Entertainment, which is lethally addictive. Its creator was James O. Incandenza, the founder of The Enfield Tennis Academy. The Ennet House is just down the hill from this school and some of its recovering denizens had menial-type day jobs there. Meanwhile, there are terrorists and spies watching the area and Incandenza's family and friends...just to minimally sketch how it is that these characters and plots start to converge.

It's impossible, in one review, to describe everything, every reason I have for finding Infinite Jest to be The Entertainment. Perhaps one reason would be that it's a loop; once the reader (finally) makes it to the last page, the first inclination is to immediately go back and reread the beginning. However, there is no set conclusion.

Along the way, there are so many amazing scenes. Some of them are hard to read (as in Blue Velvet-like, violent and gross), some sad, but then there are funny episodes, too. There are also interesting literary allusions (probably much more of them than I noted!) the obvious one being Hamlet. The writing is incredibly creative.

When our book group reconvenes, I'll be fascinated to hear how many people believe in the wraith, and--what was really going on with Ortho Stice's bed? Who stole Michael Pemulis's stash? What exactly, is wrong with Hal? How do we interpret some of Don Gately's hospital bed dreams? What happens to Joelle v. D? So much to talk about....

There are also the chat forums and blogs devoted to theories and arguments about what exactly happened here. Many of these discussions and essays are quite good.

If David Foster Wallace's aim was to get his audience to be actively engaged, he succeeded.