Well I finished David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest last night, after reading it for nearly two years. That says a lot about the book: it is a long and often frustrating read, and there were times I simply couldn't go on and had to put it down in order to read something else. Now most books, if I put them down, they're done for good. It is extremely rare for me to come back to something I've stopped. I returned again and again, partly because I wanted to conquer this challenge, partly because I became attached to the freakshow cast of characters and their messed up world, but mostly because the book is just jammed with fascinating ideas.
I'm not going to talk about the plot because it has such a loose, "figure it out yourself" quality, and because plot points are often presented from such bizarre and untrustworthy perspectives. For example, we know that the world depicted in the book is the result of much political upheaval in North America. We learn about the specifics of this upheaval only through the device of a children's puppet show, staged by a mildly retarded boy who learned everything he knows about storytelling and showmanship from his drunken father, a filmmaker who produced only oblique avant-garde films which were actively hostile to the audience. See what I mean? When none of the voices telling the story can be counted upon, the plot quickly fades away into the deep background. What you're left with is a book that isn't really about its story so much as it is about ideas. Infinite Jest's big idea is its depiction of a society which is a nightmarish funhouse-mirror reflection of ours.
Here is a near-future in which the powers that be in America (you know, corporations) have come up with the brilliant income-generating device of "Subsidized Time." The years are no longer numbered but given tawdry corporate names such as "Year of the Trial-Sized Dove Bar," and yes, "Year of the Depend Adult Undergarment." Amusingly, the years Before Subsidized have literally become B.S.-- History has no real meaning. The book adheres strictly to these naming conventions, which makes keeping track of time for the reader nearly impossible. This forces the reader into a similar place as the characters, a place where years past are as meaningless as advertisements. Everyone seems to be stuck in a "live for today," vacuum. At first I thought the whole subsidized time thing was just a sour joke, but in time I realized it is at the center of this fictional society.
More on this later...