I have come across, by chance, this huge apotheosis of a novel "Infinite Jest" by David Foster Wallace, published in 1996. Despite its difficulty I can hardly put it down. It's difficult to say anything about it, -although it's inevitable to think that the author belongs to that group of anointed and then destroyed by the "gods" like Sylvia Plath, Hemingway etc. since he committed suicide in 2008...- what I can say is that it is a real feat of a work as much huge as intense, words swirling on the page in an apparent drunkenness but with a tremendous exhuberance, irony and conspicuousness.
I would be happy to hear if any of you has had the experience of reading this novel until the end, I am beyond page 200 now, the book is around 1000 pages!
2 comments:
You're a brave man Davide to tackle such a volume. I have not read such a book, let alone heard of it. It's sad that the author no longer lives to talk about his work or to write more.
Almost unbelievably, I've just been reading about this novel in this morning's paper. Haven't finished the review (poetry) in which it's mentioned, but definitely will now.
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