Infinite Jest, by David Foster Wallace, is an imbroglio of words and phrases. But a pleasant imbroglio. It's unconventional in many ways for a novel (it has endnotes, and some endnotes have footnotes.) It feels scattered, because it is — but it's rich. Sum it up? Impossible. In part, I read it as a story of the price so many of us pay for entertainment, amusement, and escapism. Sports, drugs, alcohol, cartridges.
“Kittenplan has been trembling and feeling at the back of her vein-laced head and looking across the Mediterranean at Ingersoll like somebody who knows they’ll go to prison for what they want to do.”
Finished 08/09/17. Recommended by Aaron Green.