A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again: Essays and Arguments ANNOTATION
The author of Infinite Jest and Girl with Curious Hair turns his fierce curiosity and sharp, ironic sense of humor to nonfiction in his collection of musings on a wide range of topics, including the meaning of state fairs. 320 pp. Author readings. Print ads. 25,000 print.
FROM THE PUBLISHER
A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again collects David Foster Wallace's writings on a range of subjects that only he could bring together. From personal narratives to tennis, film, philosophy, and postmodern literary theory, no subject is outside the play of his imagination. In "Getting Away from Already Being Pretty Much Away from It All," a finalist for the 1995 National Magazine Award, Wallace gorges himself on corn dogs, gawks at baton twirlers, and gropes toward the true meaning of the all-American Institution the State Fair. In the title essay, one of the most talked about (and frequently photocopied) nonfiction pieces of the-year, Wallace reports with excruciating humor the agonies of enduring forced fun on a commercial cruiseliner. Wallace's sports obsession comes out in an essay about the unfathomable gulf between professional tennis players and the merely excellent. "E Unibus Pluram: Television and U.S. Fiction" explores the deep currents affecting both popular arts and literary craft, while "David Lynch Keeps His Head" is at once a portrait of the artist at work and an appreciation of the far-reaching cultural influence a popular artist can have.
FROM THE CRITICS
Publishers Weekly
Like the tennis champs who fascinate him, novelist Wallace (Infinite Jest; The Broom of the System) makes what he does look effortless and yet inspired. His instinct for the colloquial puts his masters Pynchon and DeLillo to shame, and the humane sobriety that he brings to his subjects-fictional or factual-should serve as a model to anyone writing cultural comment, whether it takes the form of stories or of essays like these. Readers of Wallace's fiction will take special interest in this collection: critics have already mined "Derivative Sport in Tornado Alley" (Wallace's memoir of his tennis-playing days) for the biographical sources of Infinite Jest. The witty, insightful essays on David Lynch and TV are a reminder of how thoroughly Wallace has internalized the writing-and thinking-habits of Stanley Cavell, the plain-language philosopher at Harvard, Wallace's alma mater. The reportage (on the Illinois State Fair, the Canadian Open and a Caribbean Cruise) is perhaps best described as post-gonzo: funny, slight and self-conscious without Norman Mailer's or Hunter Thompson's braggadocio. Only in the more academic essays, on Dostoyevski and the scholar H.L. Hix, does Wallace's gee-whiz modesty get in the way of his arguments. Still, even these have their moments: at the end of the Dostoyevski essay, Wallace blurts out that he wants "passionately serious ideological contemporary fiction [that is] also ingenious and radiantly transcendent fiction." From most writers, that would be hot air; from one as honest, subtle and ambitious as Wallace, it has the sound of a promise. (Feb.)
Library Journal
This collection of eight diverse articles, following on the heels of Foster's immense, popular novel, Infinite Jest (LJ 1/96), opens with "Derivative Sport in Tornado Alley," an autobiographical sketch that skillfully interweaves mathematics and tennis with the vicissitudes of Midwestern meteorology. A brilliant analysis of television's role in popular culture, a look at the Illinois State Fair, a review of filmmaker David Lynch, and a report on Wallace's week-long adventure on a luxury cruise are among the pieces that follow. Wallace's style is highly personal-some might say eccentric-but his writing is always intelligent, witty, and engaging. Libraries serving discriminating readers will want this book in their collections..-William Gargan, Brooklyn Coll. Lib., CUNY
Kirkus Reviews
This collection of essays by hot novelist Wallace (Infinite Jest, 1996, etc.) is sometimes tiresome but often truly rewarding.
Wallace is a fine prose stylist of the post-Beat school. His long sentences overflow with prepositional phrases; commas are scarce. At his best—which is to say, about half the time here—Wallace writes with an intensity that transforms rambling reportage into a sui generis mode of weird philosophizing. He makes deft use of footnotes to pile up insights beneath the flow of his main line of thought. Especially brilliant is the collection's opening essay, in which Wallace looks back on his childhood experiences as a midwestern junior tennis star through the lens of his collegiate obsession with mathematics. The tennis world, treated at length in Infinite Jest, resurfaces in a sensitive profile of rising American player Michael Joyce. Otherwise, Wallace's best work comes in two pieces that originally appeared in Harper's: a ferocious investigative report on the culture of luxury cruises, and the record of another carnival voyage, this one a trip to the Illinois State Fair. A book review competently discusses literary-theoretical debates over the death-of-the-author thesis. Elsewhere in the volume, Wallace takes determined dives into banality. A more judicious, albeit less focused, effort finds Wallace on the set with filmmaker David Lynch, whom he presents as a contemporary artistic hero. A sprawling meditation on televison and contemporary fiction lays out many intriguing theories, but its main point, that TV irony snares rather than liberates viewers, doesn't make news.
At his best, the exuberant Wallace amazes with his "Taoistic ability to control via noncontrol." But—to continue quoting from his opening tour-de-force, "Derivative Sport in Tornado Alley"—eschewing discipline exacts a price: "Force without law has no shape, only tendency and duration."
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