Infinite Jest made a huge impression on me about a year and a half ago, the kind of impression which leaves a compelling need to pursue an author’s oeuvre in its entirety paired with a profound fear of doing so. (Yep. This will be the no. 6 for my Not A Rat’s Chance in Hell challenge.)
Brief Interviews is a collection of short stories, vignettes, and, of course, interviews. Although there is the feel of a common theme, defining that theme is not so easy. The interviews with men, hideous or otherwise, are largely concerned with sex, but this is not a book about men and sex, or even just sex.
‘I always think,”What if I can’t?” Then I always think,”Oh shit, don’t think that.” Because thinking about it can make it happen. Not like it’s happened that often. But I get scared about it. We all do. Anybody tells you they don’t they’re full of it. They’re always scared it might happen. Then I always think, “I wouldn’t even be worried about it if she wasn’t here.” Then I get pissed off. It’s like I think she’s expecting something. That if she wasn’t lying there expecting it and wondering and like, evaluating, it wouldn’t have occurred to me. Then I get almost kind of pissed off. I’ll get so pissed off, I’ll stop even giving a shit about can I or not. It’s like I want to show her up. It’s like,”OK, bitch, you asked for it.” Then everything goes fine.’
That vignette, quoted here in its entirety, comes across as a distinctly masculine viewpoint. At least in terms of sex. On a broader level, there is a manipulation here of which the subject/catalyst may be wholly unaware, and the end result is a zero-sum. A creepy, solipsistic zero-sum. Pseudo-social interaction. Transcending the gender divide.
It is that anti-interaction/solipsism thing which is the main theme of the book. I assert that confidently, but the same arguments also favour a theme of narcissism, which crops up both metaphorically, in the guise of people obsessively viewing themselves through the eyes of others, and with actual mirrors. It might be either or neither of those things. Sometimes you don’t want to look too closely beneath the surface of DFW.
Wallace visits some old favourites: depression, abusive relationships, depression, some really quite trying meta-meta-meta-fiction. (You don’t get it, but you can see it would be really clever if you did. Yeah, kind of annoying.) Media. And did I mention the depression?
Reading about depression as told by DFW is hard. And when he does it unsympathetically it is harder. No. I don’t know what he was doing. But I did feel it. The pain and cynicism and despair. And doubt. Difficult to identify the source and recipient of those feelings. ‘Pathetic’ is a word that crops up repeatedly in these stories, used savagely. It is time to indulge in hyperbole: reading Wallace is like being flayed alive.
There’s a chance here that I am giving the impression of a bitter, depressing book. Well. It is. But there are also flashes of wonderful Wallace humour, like his sci-fi definition of ‘date.’
‘…date as intergender “social engagement” could connote either of two highly distinct endeavours: (A) the mutual exploration of possibilities for long-term neurogenetic compatibility [...] leading to legally codified intergender union and
P.G.I. and soft offspring; or (B) the unilateral pursuit of an immediate, vigorous, and uncodified episode of genital interface without regard to neurogenic compatibility or soft offspring or even a telephone call the next day…’
Perhaps the best executed story is BI #46 07-97 NUTLEY NJ, in which the interviewee argues against a knee-jerk reaction to suffering and degradation. The story twists and turns, and forces the reader to change sides, with extreme prejudice, on several occasions before delivering the final gut punch. And even though that made me cry, I took it in good part. There was no sentimental tugging at heart-strings, it was just intense.
Most incomprehensible story is Tri-Stan: I Sold Sissee Nar to Ecko. A nod to Ulysses here seems likely, and shades of Infinite Jest. Horrible thing to read. And Agon M. Nar? The mythical reference eluded me for a frustratingly long period of time. But a media story featuring ads infinitum. See. Humour.
To sum up. Initially thought that my fears were justified. That Brief Interviews couldn’t come close to Infinite Jest. I was wrong. Wallace’s insight, varied use of style, dexterous phraseology, humour, and ability to get under your skin are all here. It may not have the scope of Infinite Jest, but it is DFW.
And is the spell broken? May I now read DFW with impunity? Oh, yes.
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