An Unforgettable Journey

I want to chronicle an unforgettable journey.
 
It finished with the birth of my daughter under a halo of joy.  But the turning point - the point when everything came full circle - happened during a lonely lunch downtown a week earlier.  The lone-diner must have made some impression giving several fist-pumps in a dusty lounge area.

I hope to explain why those fist-pumps hung a "halo" onto my joy a week or so later.

This is not a book review of Infinite Jest.  Rather, I want to tell about reading that book in a crazy year and how it all led to a cheerful welcome to my daughter, Amalia, with the help of a British Bulldog.  The process included vigorous intellectual challenges to worldview, inescapable illustrations of a farcical and flawed world through a "post-modern" lens (and the worries associated therewith), and, finally, an anchor-drop back to a more "modern" philosophical safe haven that literally parted storm clouds after a flood.

It was a long and brutal battle through serious introspection and macro contemplation shaded with an unsettling skeptical tint... until Winston Churchill reminded me to welcome Amalia to the good in our world as well.

Infinitely Impactful

Infinite Jest will eventually invade any reader.  If you stick with this book (and I realize that is asking a lot), there will be a point when David Foster Wallace will infiltrate your being.

That moment came for me when a drug addict gave birth to a faceless baby.  I received a warning, so I braced myself, but DFW had a talent for invasion of personal space.  This scene impacted me personally based on two cases of mine, and, much like his manipulative quiz/essay/mind-f#@k from Brief Interviews with Hideous Men, I felt abused afterward.

Trayvon Martin and the Gray Muck of Reality

I love that clip, and I wish things were so simple.

We like to think of things either "are" or "are not" legal.  Only the legal world can create the need for me to quote simple forms of the verb "to be."  

But, I learned early in law school that there is only ever one answer... "it depends."  I want to write about my feelings on the Trayvon Martin murder case.

The only certain answer is that there will be no winners in this case.  After listening to some of the trial and hearing both closing arguments in the background while working, I believe that anyone who claims this case is "clear" or "simple" serves a preconceived notion, philosophy, or preference.  I have opinions, but I see nothing as clear.

George Zimmerman either murdered Trayvon Martin or he killed him for the lawful purpose of saving his own life.  Lesser-included-offenses aside (and that is a post for another day), it seems like one or the other. 

I have been glued to this case precisely because it illustrates the muddy gray between "legal" and "illegal."  It shows us just how chaotic our world is and how difficult simple truth can be. We have seen dueling mothers, a gun-control debate by proxy, and impassioned pleas on both sides for and against "stand your ground" laws.  In other words, we made it another battleground for the usual things even though it is simply a murder trial with interesting dynamics.

This is not easy.  This is a very tough case.  And it reflects so much about humanity.  It reflects how we all act and contrasts it with how we think we would act when faced with danger.  It shows how important it is to so many to fit this case into our own preferences (political, social, etc.).

This is one of those uncomfortable moments in front of the unflattering image of ourselves in a full-length mirror with bright fluorescent lights.  The lights bring it all to bear.  This case tells us so much about "us."

I don't know what I think about the truth from the evidence presented and I do not seek to influence anyone's opinion.  Rather, I have been ruminating about the nuances and I prefer to wade through the gray muck. 

No matter what happens in this case, people will be upset.  And that may tell us more about us than anything else.

Monte Cristo IV - Power of the Dark Side

I have finally finished The Count of Monte Cristo.  It sinks in slowly like metal-tank-tread resting on a wood block.  It eases its way into the very core of a reader and lingers with its simple reminder to "wait and hope."

It also leaves almost no witnesses.

The part that lingers for me tonight is the notion of removed action, but there are so many fascinating elements that I don't know where to start.  Nothing done by the Count of Monte Cristo himself would ever lead to conviction, much as with his rivals.  And, yet, he remains guilty and  purposeful in his deeds.  He may not pull triggers or open veins, but he orchestrates the opportunistic actions as purposefully as if he had done it all personally.

When I watched the 2002 movie of the same title, I left the theater impressed by the coldness and intensity of the vengeance portrayed.  My memory recorded an intense experience.  I watched that movie again tonight and came away with a different feeling: The movie is tame.

My Drug of Choice

I am reading Infinite Jest and only Infinite Jest. Well, at least until I need a break.  And that will happen.  But it will pull at me and call to me even when it repulses me.  

David Foster Wallace is apparently my drug of choice.  He makes me think too much.  His writing is a frustrating fixation, the intake of which I promise myself I can control (denial? Is it a river?).  I love his Vulcan-like intellect, but it wears me out and impacts my sleep.  I love everything about his style, but it can be infuriating at times and makes me see too much behind my eyelids.  I find truths of human psychology and gallows humor scattered in a field of tar and sap.

Dave brought up an analogy of DFW as my "crazy bitch" and I can't shout that down.  I just read Of Human Bondage, by W. Summerset Maugham, which featured a classic terrible girlfriend in American literature.  And, as Dave so well explained, I may have found my "Mildred."

Before I subject the internet to a basic text conversation that led to the analogy, I offer a bit of background.  I read The Pale King early in 2013 and loved it despite its trudging pace. (you can read that Here).  I started IJ shortly thereafter. It was good, but I had other book obligations and decided that IJ requires a certain level of concentration.  So, I proceeded to devour other books, assigned books, and my final book club book to clear the path for my one true fix.  

I have enjoyed my other books, but my peripheral has never lost sight of Infinite Jest.  And, for me, it isn't just about DFW the writer (OK, it is, but not quite 100%), but the subject matter itself as well.  I have written before that the farcical view is often therapeutic and there are parts of my day-to-day life that require a certain level of gallows humor for survival. I'll just say I often see the worst of many parts of life, and a systematically farcical look at a serious world is extremely appealing to me as an intellectual journey and exercise.  

Last week, I finally zeroed in on IJ exclusively.

Miller Time!

I keep crossing paths with Andre Miller.

When I worked as an intern at NBA Inside Stuff Magazine (then the official teen magazine of the NBA), I got to interview Andre Miller, then of the University of Utah, for one of the few mini-articles that included my own name.  I spoke to the late Rick Majerus, former Utah head coach, for the blurb.  Majerus spoke glowingly about Andre Miller.

'Dre took the Utes to the finals against a very talented Kentucky team and came up short.  I remember him playing brilliantly and I rooted for his underdog team to shock the world.  It did not hurt that I had interviewed him and found him to be kind and respectful.  Without getting into details, I'll just say that interviewing athletes isn't always like that.

I remember how important it was to coach Majerus that I understand how good a rebounder Miller was.  I remember my editor explaining to me how unimportant it was that I emphasize that when writing about a point guard.  My article was small and simple, but it was my first national publication credit.

I am just short of three months younger than 'Dre and I have followed his career since Utah.  That got easier when he became a Denver Nugget in 2003.  My friends and I shared 10-game Nuggets ticket packages back then and we followed the Nuggets closely.  I have always been impressed with Miller.  I know George Karl has only ever sung his praises.  He sounded exactly like Rick Majerus.

Miller was an alley-oop master and created some vicious dunks by Melo, K-Mart, Camby and J.R. Smith.  Then, in 2006, Miller was traded as part of the deal that brought Allen Iverson to Denver. I still remember George Karl talking about how disappointed he was to lose Miller.  Karl brought that up many times over the years.  I hated losing 'Dre.

In 2008, I came face-to-face with Miller at Mile High Stadium in Denver for the DNC nomination of Barrack Obama.  I remember seeing him, being certain it was him, and deciding not to invade his privacy.  He's such a low-key guy and I didn't want to intrude.

In 2011, Miller re-signed with Denver, only he is now known as "the Professor" and has survived on savvy in a young-man's game at age 37.  As you can see in the highlights, Miller can still throw a long oop, and he can still create with the ball.

Flash to this Saturday.  I took Jacob to see Game 1 of the playoffs.  The team was in a funk.  Miller took over in the fourth when no one else would.  He scored 28 points and made every shot when it was needed.  He did so many "professor" type things and dragged this team to an improbable victory.

I loved it.  That patented flat jumper, the passing, the up-and-under scoop shots...  It was all like it was when he was here from 2003-2006.

The Denver Nuggets cleared out for the final shot of the game for 37-year old Andre Miller to put the team's fate in his hands.  The way he played this game, I could not have felt better about the team's chances even if Melo were still available for late-game heroics.   Miller went left, cut right and went up and under the rim to take the lead with 1.3 seconds left.

I lost my voice at the game and could not have asked for a better experience.  It's nice to have 'Dre back around.

Have you ever had a week?

*NOTE:  I wrote this last night and today the Boston Marathon was bombed.  I am not surprised people would do such a thing because I see people do bad things all the time in my work.  I am sure many would feel like the singers watching the TV as they suffer inside at the scenes in front of them.  I had no idea how apt it would feel when I wrote this last night.  I do not edit it so it will stand as it was.



Have you ever had a week where you just feel bled?

I've had a few such weeks recently, as we all have, but these last few just about take the cake.  Much like the video above, I feel as if I've been slowly bled.  Pristine white turned to crimson as the time goes effortlessly, and yet, the blood flows smooth and quick without notice.

I am looking around at my stained clothes as week-three looms.  Wounded by a thousand paper cuts.  I may have overestimated the shelf-life of specializing in messes.

I love the video because they watch the depressing news on a TV (just sitting there) and just start bleeding.  I've always thought it was a clever performance and idea.

Update... what's going on?

So, what's new?  Here is a brief update and some contemplation.

-- Jacob lost two teeth in two days and now has lost all four of his bottom front teeth.

-- I do not like that too many of my posts have been mirrored to the 25 books site because it shows I am slacking.  I say this even though my goal is to write on my private book blog and not do much here.  So, I guess I'll try to keep it brief.

-- I just finished reading The Hobbit to Jacob tonight.  He wanted to start Fellowship of the Ring right away, but that will be tomorrow.  Jacob has listened to me read all seven of the Harry Potter books and has now sat through the first of Tolkien's four-part saga.  I predict he will sit through this one as well. We discussed the differences between movies and books.  The kid is sharp and asks very intelligent questions.

-- I continue to struggle with nuances that I described in the previous posts (about revenge and other basics posted about below).  I am going to try to focus my energies on flushing those thoughts out in the book.  I have been bad about writing lately for a few reasons.  My big-book mania has gotten in the way, work has been insanely busy and various other life changes have also led to some halting.  However, the story never leaves my mind and I find myself contemplating it often.

-- Much is changing for our family and the adjustments, both immediate and anticipated, are starting to be felt.  It is welcome and necessary, but that does not preclude discomfort.

-- I think the newer concepts to my mind that I most want to work through in the book are the burdens of logic and the mind-withering materialism of our world.  I have seen examples of these recently and really want to create scenes that hit those concepts.

-- For the first time I can remember, I did not fill out a March Madness bracket and did not even watch a single game.  I am starting to drift further and further from sports.  I am even starting to go back on my initial intention to involve Jacob in sports.  Even though I enjoyed sports growing up, I do not see the same fire in Jacob for that form of competition (he is INTENSELY competitive, but not for sport) and I am starting to look down my nose at it a bit.  The boy has brains and I don't want him to use his head to advance a football.  That said, I actually have begun to almost fear for his future based on his intellectual maturity.  I fear the gleam of wonder will be too quickly removed and will more quickly be invaded by the cynicism that follows advanced logical thought.  Wow, there is no way to express that concern without sounding elitist.  Yet, it remains my fear.  There is always some fear, whether extreme or small. I consider this one small in the immediate sense, but it does concern me long-term.  Cynicism injected too early can bring a deep melancholy.  I know, first-world problems, but still.  I'm a parent.

-- I should really be working on the project I promised to work on.  It will come. Although I have not written, it continues to simmer and move.

Count of Monte Cristo II: This time, It's Revenge!

March 23 met with a snowstorm, meaning we braved the elements to get Jacob to his promised Laser Tag Birthday celebration.  It also meant cancellation of last week's book discussion about the first 1/3 of the Count of Monte Cristo.  It was rescheduled for Saturday, March 30, and I got to go.

As always it was a good discussion and enlightening.  And, as with all discussions, I revisited it many times in my mind.  However, what I thought was an understood and widely-accepted maxim turned into the crux of the debate. It turns out that revenge has more sympathy as a motive than I ever expected.  I always believed (and still do) that revenge, although a very tempting motive, is ultimately a bad motive.  In my mind, the discussion got turned on its logical head and I've been trying to set it right in my own mind these last few days.

Two concepts raised in the discussion gave me pause.  First was the assertion that "forgive and forget" is selfish and that revenge (as opposed to justice) should be used as a protection for others.  The second was the assumption that anyone's feelings of "forgive and forget" should understandably fall aside once an "extreme" (undefined) injustice happens to a loved one.

I disagree with these points and feel more comfortable giving thorough reasons after reflection.  Forgiveness is gracious, but revenge is selfish, and this should hold true in the face of any injustice suffered.  But, as I will try to explain, I think the confusion resulted from a mixing of revenge and justice (two very different things).  I think we are tempted to fill in the gaps of our always-imperfect system of justice.  Some seem to allow or at least tolerate that those gaps may (or even should) be filled with revenge.  I just cannot go there.

The clip below from Les Miserable is one of my favorite.  The act of kindness and forgiveness from the bishop allowed Jean Valjean a level of self-reflection that inspired actual change and removed a criminal from the lives of others in a way temporary imprisonment never could.  It is also an example of the benefits of grace over revenge.

Count of Monte Cristo

Well, I am finally reading it.



This was among the very first downloads I ever made on my Kindle.  My original Kindle had it first when I received it as the best gift ever about five years ago.  The Count of Monte Cristo awaited my attention during the entire life-span of that device until its demise on the same day Osama Bin Laden found his end in May of 2011 (you can read about that here http://25booksayear.blogspot.com/2011/05/sunday-bloody-sunday.html).



The book was then resurrected on my new Kindle and awaited its time patiently, forgotten and burdened by solitude.  Only now, as I embark on many new journeys of my own, does it finally illuminate itself to me in e-ink.  And, much like Edmond Dantes, it strikes out at me with great vengeance and furious anger.  (like this...)







I love this book already.  I am so disappointed to miss our first book club meeting about this great work, and so I offer my thoughts for consideration here.  I will happily miss to attend to Jacob's seventh birthday celebration (Happy Birthday, Cub!), but I would love to talk about the book.

Marching Morons

I read Marching Morons by C.M. Kornbluth (a novella) early this year and thought it was pretty good.  It must have been an inspiration for the movie Idiocracy, which was pretty funny, but in that "oh, God, that's just too close to real" way.

Basic premise is that the smart folks become outnumbered and have to prop up and allow the world to function from the shadows while fewer and fewer maintain a level of intellect to keep things functional.  There are times when the world can seem like that, and especially so if you follow politics.

I am trying to illustrate something along those line in my writing project because it has been often on my mind after reading The Marching Morons.  I suppose I cannot eliminate having seen how things function "under the hood" (so to speak) as a possible cause for my recent contemplation.

It seems that many flash-point topics turn people into raving lunatics.  Gun control is the current manic-causing drug of choice among the populace.  It is a rotation.  Abortion, marriage, religion and all the other flash-point topics will come up again when it is their turn.  It all just keeps happening.

Battlestar Gallactica hammered the point home again and again: This has all happened before and it will all happen again.  Which begs the question... Are we getting dumber or have we always been pretty stupid and it just always looks like its getting worse?  I'm not sure one is better than the other.

So, has this all just happened before?  (Lame excuse for a cool BSG trailer)

Infinite Jest

Out of the blue, I started Infinite Jest, by David Foster Wallace.  This might be an insane decision on my part considering that I just finished The Pale King, but I am at a place right now that makes this book particularly appealing.  It just feels necessary that I read this particular book right now.

Why?  Now that is a good question.

Well, I've hit a point where dealing with certain serious matters has taken a jest-filled turn.  I have endeavored to swim up stream of late by taking a jester's view of a stuffy world.  From political debates, negotiations, and the everyday logical flaws that speckle this world like stars in the sky, everything just looks clown-shoes ridiculous to me.

Infinite Jest addresses our entertainment-based society in a silly way.  I recognize that I will enjoy such a topic now more than most any other time.  I started it last night and am hooked.  I would never have thought it possible for me to read two entire DFW books in a row, especially two as long as these two, without losing my entire mind.  It may happen yet (losing my mind, that is).

I may be a glutton for punishment, and it may take me a really long time and several breaks to finish this book, but it is apparently a masterpiece and I want in on that at the moment.

Happy reading all.

Prelude No More

Well... it has been more than five years and I am finally ready to drop the Prelude and get on with the book.

I have really enjoyed working on this blog, and I will keep it going the best I can.  I do not have many page views, but that was never my goal.  I enjoy thinking out loud and working through topics in writing.  I have even found myself forwarding older posts when a topic of conversation veers toward something I have written about.

I am pretty sure forwarding links to my thoughts has come across as rather vain.  But, it has been a pleasure to write my thoughts on this forum.  I am constructing my book from a story I wrote in 2010 and I have started a new blog page to flush it out.  If you receive an e-mail invitation, you will get to see it.  It is nowhere near done and will not likely be done anytime soon.  However, it will become my writing focus for the foreseeable future.

For me, this is a bucket-list item.  Probably my top bucket-list item at that.  I want to write a book.  I do not care if I publish it or not, but I must finish it.  It has become important to me.

At some point, I may publish my short story (the one that I base the book upon) on this site.  I will try to occasionally post updates here, but my focus will be on Schaden Street (which will make sense if you read the finished product).

I just think it is time to get this going.  I titled this site preludetoabook because I always knew the ultimate goal.  I am finally ready to tackle that goal and have started.  I have my chapters mapped and have started filling in the large gaps left by my story.  I am ready to do this, and I will.  I will read less and write more.  This will hurt my production level on this blog, but I am fine with that.

This is what I want to do, so I am going to do it.

LiveWrong

Last year my steady-but-cheap exercise bike finally had it and died a quick death.  One day it started clacking and black dust leaked from underneath.  It was dying fast, but I couldn't be without my routine.  My now-dead bike was already used when my brother gave it to me and it was small of frame.  But it fit my needs and I put thousands of miles on it over about two-and-a-half years.  I read many books while riding it and listened to a lot of music and contemplated many things.

When it was time to replace "Old Reliable," I did my research.  I set a budget, tried to find one with a lip that would fit my Kindle and set out to find something I would spend a lot of time on.  I found the perfect bike for my purposes.  It isn't overly fancy, but definitely not bottom-of-the line.  My final consideration was to determine how I felt about owning a LiveStrong brand bike.

Even writing that now, I can hardly believe it was a controversy in my mind.  Standing in the store, I felt a look on my face like I was in the presence of flatulence.  I had firmly resolved that Armstrong was a doper and I had to talk myself past that.  The reason I bought it, ultimately, was that a portion of all purchases of LiveStrong cycles of any kind go toward cancer research.  It was a tie-breaker.  I resolved that I would buy it and take the inevitable revelation when it came (and I had no doubt it would come).

Lance Armstrong used to be a hero of mine.  That changed over time, and the ramifications of all I grew to suspect came crashing down today.  I hardly care anymore, but the ethical dilemma has consumed me.

In 2001, you could not have found a bigger Lance Armstrong fan than me.  When Lance gave Jan Ullrich "the look" before blowing the German away in a cloud of arrogance and competitiveness in 2001, I was hooked.  That moment set me to jump out of my seat and taunt Ullrich from the couch.  The video of that look is above.

I owned, and wore, my LiveStrong bracelet and loved his book It's Not About the Bike.  I loved the part in the book when he described his first Tour de France win as he shouted "How do you like them apples!" to his trainer as his victory became certain.

I remember taking up cycling when basketball finally became too painful.  It was the logical choice, but Lance made it an enthusiastic one.  I trained hard for the 2002 Ride the Rockies and hit my goal of finishing it without taking the "sag wagon."  I had invested in my first truly-awesome bike (nicknamed "patches the Volpe" by Jen because of all the flat tires it got).  Still a novice, I pedaled every mile without clip-in shoes (I used tennis shoes) and felt the exhilaration of reaching the top of Red Mountain pass only to look to the side and realize just how high I had climbed.

 I remember animatedly imploring my boss at work at my 2004 summer job in Wyoming that he "simply must" watch Armstrong perform in the Tour.  I explained that he would miss greatness at its peak if he missed it.  That continued through 2005.  My status as a fan was still pretty strong, but I got tired of hearing about allegations.  I am not a conspiracy nut (quite the opposite, actually), so I never liked hearing the "witch hunt" narratives coming from other Armstrong fans and the man himself.

Still, the narrative I did believe was that his innocence was a given because he was the "most tested athlete in history."  For the next three years I just went with it and took the position that I really just didn't know, but I hoped he had been clean.

Then, in 2007, I read Game of Shadows, by Mark Fainaru-Wada and Lance Williams.  That book made the best argument Lance had into a joke.  Big time.

Game of Shadows killed my fan status.  I was done.  From that point on it was only a matter of time.  The book illustrated very clearly how easy it is to pass a drug test.  The book eventually brought down BALCO and outed many athletes, including Marion Jones (five Olympic medals).  I remember telling people that I would never follow track and field or cycling again.  The idea that other athletes were somehow not involved seemed impossible to me.

I remember just about falling out of my chair when a Sports Illustrated article about the notorious Victor Conte (BALCO's owner and leader) sitting at his table in front of two framed Denver Bronco jerseys.  Nooooooooooo!!!!!

Viewed through this new prism, I turned hostile to my once-hero.  Eventually, I just stopped thinking about it.  I still ride my indoor cycle religiously, but I almost never ride outside anymore.

As I rode my cycle this evening and looked at the yellow highlights and the yellow "LiveStrong" on the black panel down by my legs, I just shook my head.  I couldn't stop thinking about today's news that Armstrong finally has elected to confess (at least in part) and to apologize.  I shook my head thinking about how late this is and how unimportant it feels because it came only after he was inescapably-cornered by evidence.

It made me sad even though I thought that ship had sailed.  I think the contradiction became clear when I remembered that I had justified the purchase because of cancer research.  It would be true to state that Lance Armstrong raised many millions of dollars for cancer research and it would be foolish to argue that none of that money helped people survive cancer.  It would also be foolish to say that anywhere near as much money would have been raised if he had not won seven titles.

That leads to the ethical dilemma.  Was the good accomplished through cheating and lying worth it?  In a pure numbers sense with Machiavellian coldness, more people were helped than hurt.  But, I just cannot shake my preference for honesty.

I hate the message to kids that you should win at all costs and cheat if necessary.  I hate the idea that a generation of kids will have the example of a man who stood on top of the world because he cheated.  I do not want Jacob to consider the fame and notoriety if he faces a tough choice and finds himself offered an easy solution.

I cannot deny that his ruse and dishonesty did a measurable good.  That is a fact.  He was an inspiration to those fighting for their lives and advanced science for tremendous benefit.

But I will never feel good about how he did it.  I will never cease to believe that an equal or even greater good could have come from honesty.  It may not have been as much money in as short a time, but I believe it would have been longer-lasting and ultimately more successful.  Without cheating, and with perhaps just one Tour finish as an inspiring cancer survivor, I believe LiveStrong could have raised funds for a generation.  It certainly would not make people like me shake their heads at the logo today.

I simply cannot take any other position and keep any measure of hope in humanity.  And I choose to hope above all else.

Messed with by a Ghost

It took me about two seconds to realize I could never spoil this book for anyone by writing about it now.  Not even if I wanted to.

You cannot spoil this book because it has no resolution, but that is the point.  Life often goes unresolved.  I saw a quote the other day that expressed how unlikely it would be for real life to ever find a publisher.  It is over-long and often lacks resolution.  David Foster Wallace makes that point with his usual brilliant writing.  The book is thought-provoking, smart and hilarious.

DFW never finished The Pale King.  But, it wouldn't have a traditional "ending" even if he had finished it.  In fact, his notes indicate that, although plot lines were drawn out, nothing ever would ultimately resolve.

I have written before on this blog that DFW will mess with you.  He does that in this book as well.  He starts by introducing a concept, and in this book that concept is boredom.  He then discussed that concept and, before you know it, he illustrates it without telling you by creating the experience for you, the reader.  The reader does not realize it until the point becomes obvious.

In this case, he illustrates how to deal with boredom by using painstaking description of tedium.  You then realize that your own patience is being strained and tested.  But, and here is where his talent comes in, he makes you experience the tedium while captive and even engrossed.  How is that possible?  I'm not sure, and it makes me feel toyed with.  I find myself experiencing the sensation he seeks to prove and can only give a side-smile and think "touche, Mr. Wallace... touche."

One of the best examples of his manipulation of the reader is when a character says "rest assured that I am not Chris Fogle, and that I have no intention of inflicting on you a regurgitation of every last sentence and passing thought I happen to recall."

He then proceeds to regurgitate every possible detail and thought within the story.  So, how does DFW illustrate the mundane life in The Pale King?  Here are some:

- He takes you into a stuck elevator for an overly-long articulation of "what's wrong with Americans today" that seems so cliche and typical of every age and generation without having the characters make more than a passing reference of the hours that have gone by.   They pass the time with deep, even if well plumbed, discussion.  You feel the frustration of the character who is not interested while the others blather on.

- He takes you into a traffic jam and describes every single indication of discomfort for every passenger, the construction zone and every delay from traffic to speed bump.

- He takes you into the theoretical scenario of value-maximization that would happen in a progressive tax system where every customer would buy groceries in $5.00 increments to pay the least possible taxes and how that would absolutely happen because of the mythical "rational person" brought to us by theoretical economics.

- He takes you into the scattered mind of a man who cannot stop talking about himself.  You learn about everything from drugs he has used to the motivations to succeed and how impacting his father's death was on his life.  You also learn about the cartoon-ridiculous yet amusing way his father died.  Just try not to be ashamed of yourself for chuckling while this slapstick death is described in hushed tones.  It's... I mean, I chuckled and felt terrible for it.

- He engrosses you in a discussion between a computer-like man and an attractive woman about the concept of attractiveness and the reaction people have to being called interesting.  It is fantastic, but also another way to cut through a lull in the action at a gathering.

- One character sweats so profusely and his mind focuses on everything around him that could cause an outbreak of sweat.  He even tries to determine the level of attractiveness of a woman behind him to avoid allowing her appearance to inspire sweat.   He illustrates how many items one mind can focus on at a time.

- He illustrates the best way to hide information as the sharing of all information.  Specifically, he writes: "abstruse dullness is actually a much more effective shield than is secrecy.  For the great disadvantage of secrecy is that it's interesting.  People are drawn to secrets; they can't help it."  This concept crops up throughout the book.

- He takes you through the process of correcting an administrative snafu with himself as a fictional character (and although he tries to convince you it is autobiographical it is also fictional... and... just... my God... It's hard to say for sure).  DFW, whether real or fictional, jumps hoops to untangle himself from yet another David Wallace and their merged identities.

Other parts I loved included a detailed description of a story about "shit" that ends up explaining a nickname; a beautiful description of a nature scene that ends with speculation that bird chirps might actually be war cries; and a vivid description of flying in a plane.  One description of a cashier being caught picking his nose and the reaction of a customer includes one stream-of-conscious sentence that goes for pages and is just hilarious and disgusting at the same time.

My analysis is that these slices of the mundane-made-interesting illustrate an active, "unborable" mind.

And, that is why I do not feel capable of "spoiling" this book for anyone.  The experience is in the journey.  Knowing that he will discuss the mundane, and therefore knowing what mundane scenarios are featured, can ruin nothing.  The experience of this book is in taking the ride and imagining those mental places through his virtuosic wordsmithing.

This book is boring at times.  But, I can honestly say the boredom is the point.  The journey is not boring.  The book is not boring.  The topic is boredom and the human mind.  And DFW makes you bored so that you understand and even FEEL the frustration of the characters.  It's like an emotional scratch-and-sniff, if that were possible.  Scratch one sticker and feel the frustration of being dragged into a conversation for hours that you don't want while stuck with no way out.  Scratch this other sticker and you are suck in a car that never seems to get to where it is going.  Scratch yet another and feel just as trapped as if you were in a windowless room with a clock, as he describes below:

"Lock a fellow in a windowless room to perform rote tasks just tricky enough to make him have to think, but still rote, tasks involving numbers that connected to nothing he'd ever seen or care about, a stack of tasks that never went down, and nail a clock to the wall where he can see it, and just leave the man there to his mind's own devices."  

Depending on your personal tolerances, some scenes will be engrossing and others suffocating.

Also, DFW's writing is suffocating both in the good and frustrating sense.  There are times when you keep reading and reading with urgency not because there is a climax or cliffhanger, but because his language is so powerful, dense, fascinating and maddening at the same time.  It will make you tired from thought.

I made 179 notes and marks in this book. Here are a few more highlights at random.

- "She might actually have bared her teeth at me for an instant."

- "We think of ourselves now as eaters of the pie instead of makers of the pie.  So who makes the pie?"

"- I know I was nearly always the hero of any story or incident I ever told people about during this period - which, like the thing with the lone sideburn, is a memory that makes me wince now."

- "To give oneself to the care of others' money - this is effacement, perdurance, sacrifice, honor doughtiness, valor.  Hear this or not, as you will.  Learn it now, or later - the world has time.  Routine, repetition, tedium, monotony, ephemeracy, inconsequence, abstraction, disorder, boredom, angst, ennui - these are the true hero's enemies, and make no mistake, they are fearsome indeed.  For they are real."

- "As is well-known, parents can have vastly different ways of expressing love and concern. Of course, much of my interpretation is just speculative - there's obviously no way to know what he really meant."

I also highlighted words I had to look up in the dictionary.  I found 61 and list them below this post.

I cannot stop thinking about this book and even found myself talking to Jacob about how he handles boredom and how he should do so.  I loved it and am very happy to have read it.

WORDS I HAD TO LOOK UP

incised
obtruded
anfractuous
prolixly
anodized
Imbrication
confabulation
aphasia
Solipsismus
limn
florid
agglomeration
Banausic
peplum
logorrheic
circumambient
rictus
obverse
verdant
baize
baronial
unoccluded
orthogonal
blebular
marginalia
punctilious
priapstic
otios
hydrotically
obtundated
desiccated
neologisms
tchotchkes
dyspnea
ipsilateral spasticity
inanitive pica
dextrorotated
surfeit
ersatz
intubatory
semion
trilby
galvanic
etiology
monopsony
efficacious
jejune
anondize
proboscis
didactic
eclat
introrsus
agonists
hypertrophic
polyphony
eidetic
carbuncular
sardonic
eponymous
ontologically