As the week before last came to a close, I realized that with only about 50 pages to go in Infinite Jest, the planets had aligned perfectly so that I would finish the book on September 12, exactly one year to the day since David Foster Wallace's death. How fitting! But it was not to be. A few little things like "family obligations" and "work" butted in, and the next thing I knew, September 12 had come and gone.
Anyhow, I finished yesterday, still well within the Infinite Summer deadline. As eager as I was to keep reading, I did not want it to end, because now I will never again get to read about Don Gately, Joelle Van Dyne, Hal Incandenza, and all the rest—until I reread, that is.
I'm not going to provide any spoilers here, but I will say that the ending did not satisfy my need to know more about these people and how their stories connect. I'm told that that's why people reread this book ... again and again.
I want to thank the folks at Infinite Summer for pushing me to finally tackle this daunting book. I am a better person for having read it—really! If nothing else, I learned more about addiction and "identifying" from this book than I ever thought I would as an "outsider." But there is something else—I worked hard as a reader of this book, with words and puns and allusions and connections, and I'm proud that I rose to the task.
I don't expect Andy to read this book (not his thing), but I've already flagged a few sections for him to read, just so he can get a feel for what I've been crowing about for 3 months now. The humor alone is worth sharing.
DFW, wherever you are now, thank you for writing this book and for inspiring me to push myself beyond the bounds of what I normally consider "reading material." I hope you are at peace.