This book has been on my shelf for about 10 years. Since the late nineties, it’s been skulking there in the corner. Bright-oranged and baby-blued, unmissable in girth and shelf-sagging heft. (Can’t find it? Look for the low spot on Shelf “W”.) This year marked my third attempt at getting through, though I must confess that my motives had not been pure.
My first swing at INFJ was driven by thoughts of Ought. As a recent graduate in the fantastic field of English Literature, I knew that it was my duty to continue my education. (Call me old-fashioned, but I still buy into the idea that the goal of a Liberal Arts Education is to learn how to educate one’s self, ’til death or senility do we part.) I had heard tale of this this new scribbler, this inscrutable hotshot Dave Wallace, and felt I ought to size him up as only I, college graduate, could. So I read The Girl With Curious Hair and started in on INFJ. Didn’t get far. At all. I had cash-in-hand waitering jobs to attend to. (English Major career opportunities and all that.)
A few years later, the urge hit me again. This time, I needed to get a few new intellectual bragging rights to wave around. Rock ‘n Roll was good kicks, but my new venue for social performance was lousy with grad students. I figured that tackling the Gen X version of Ulysses would do the trick the next time someone asked, “Read anything good lately?” Unfortunately, the answer “I’ve read INFJ” is just as satisfying at a cocktail party as “I’m reading INFJ.” And since nobody else had finished it either, there weren’t many questions relating to the captivating climax and the delicious denouement. There was no need to complete the quest, as long as it loitered on the back of the john with a bookmark stuck firmly in place.
But this year he came up a lot. New people that I’d met in new circles found him worth reading, indeed, worth finishing. He seemed to have something to say. So I licked a finger and held it to the wind, catching more and more interviews, essays, addresses, and other bandanna-brained dives into the icky depths of modern life. In death, his once-shelved specter loomed large. I started to love the guy, the man, DFW.
Motivational rudder righted, compass reset, and course corrected, I set sail once again.
i’m assuming there’s a part 2, etc. — because the title implies that you did finish this novel this time (infinite summer?).
and if you did, i’m assuming you’ll share its impact (or lack thereof)…
oh yes, there is a part two in the works. that’s the hard part. many expectations, mixed bag, etc. gotta figure it all out.
infinite summer was one of the factors that coincidentally contributed to completion, although I had a head start on those guys.
stay tuned!