What did you guys think of this book? Personally I enjoyed it, especially the first 50 pages. However...

Wow

George rr Martin ruined the word "quibble" for me with his Tolkien quote.

Wow i really likede these post it was so intense and full of staisfying and nourishing EMOTIONALITY . You were like an arrow shooting straight at my MIND and thus i was torn to sspllaterring pieeces of meat jst in front of your eye. Just a single notice from my side though, you may not have realized it after all buty ou made a typo there you wrote Study After School but i don't think this can be written in big-letters in the sententical structure of your posts ok?! Now regarding your question which i find is grandiously excavatred footage documentary is that when i read Inifinite Jest i f´thought wow who IS THIS GUY David Foster Wallace. I read it and then went: What is going on here, what happened RIGHT NOW. I went on google and checked for plot synposis but i found just papers on how DFW is so smart and how triangles and infinity are structurally included in this book. My god i know tat already it's so ibvious but what about what's happening on narratological level here? Since google did not know i took a walk towards the DFW Center for Suicide and Entertainment that is situatied right next to my street on the left side of a boulevard that stretched this whole city of mine without any kind of shame or guilt. The boulevard sat there fat and proud showing itself bare and unabashed. Children who walk their cover their eyes and man walk with erections but not me because i was so focussed on finding my answer. I ran towards the DFW Center of Suicide and Entertainment and there was a lady named koyoooko waiting for me at the reception she said to me that she was so glad to finally greet me and i was: What did you just say? You have never even heard of me in your life and i pointed out that she wasa nasty liar with narrow eyes and she cried not but rather disappeared and left me standing there with no clues. I said: No, not this time. Not at this hour of th day and walked up everal stairs until i met a buro where there was sitting the CEO. I was totally surprised because it was Hideo Kojima. He sat there smoking a cigarette with passive-aggressive politeness and motioned me to sit down on the floor in a monkesque seating position whihc i then did, for no reason whatsoever. I said: Hello Hideo Kojima. I must say: This is unexpected. What are you doing here? Hideo Kojima shook his finger and said in japanese, i just read the subtitltes, he said: No no no Felicitas. No no. What are you doing here, no? That is the real question?? Explain to me in five seconds how anything hin your life is related to this buiuilding. I quickly shouted: WHAT HAPPENS IN INFINITE Jest. And Hideo Kohjima laughed. Ah! I see haha! You did not understand what happened in Infinite Jest! That's so embarrassing! Hahhahah! He pointed his fingers at me and laughed and then tthe whole building crew entered the room and laughed and some people threw eggs at my facial expression of shame and profound humiliation. I said: But what shall i do now? CREW + KOHJIMI sang choralically: START W

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just finished The Pale King AMA

On a scale of 1 to 10, how reddit is it?

You tell me

lol

But to be honest the narrator isn't necessarily the author, that's not a bad way of evoking the 70s/maybe early 80s

oh fugg

What exactly is "reddit" about that passage?

>cheap trick
-13 reddit

>Pop culture as identity
>Being able to describe differences in the use of technology between groups qualifying as insight or something that adds to a story
>Namedropping a bunch of classic rock bands as a bone thrown to people who otherwise might lose interest in the story if proper nouns that they know from IRl don't show up regularly
Reminds me of fucking Ready Player One, the most Reddit book ever published.

>Pop culture as identity

could also be Veeky Forums

>Being able to describe differences in the use of technology between groups qualifying as insight or something that adds to a story

this sentence is painful to read and I have no idea what type of genius argument you're trying to make or how it would prove your point

>Namedropping a bunch of classic rock bands as a bone thrown to people who otherwise might lose interest in the story if proper nouns that they know from IRl don't show up regularly

what makes you think that's the purpose of the passage? tip: provide context

>could also be Veeky Forums
Yes, and it also is Reddit.
>this sentence is painful to read
So is the passage out of The Pale King but I trudged through it. Maybe you could try a bit harder to understand the simple point I'm making: that noticing that white people use headphones but black people use the built-in speakers on Sony products to listen to music doesn't amount to insight.
>what makes you think that's the purpose of the passage? tip: provide context
Provide what context? The only context available is that in the picture of the text provided. What else would the purpose be? Even if that isn't the purpose, who cares? The author is dead, literally and figuratively.

>What else would the purpose be? Even if that isn't the purpose, who cares?

You're saying the novel is "reddit" (whatever the fuck that means) and justifying that by saying the author is trying to display insight into technological preferences and maintaining the reader's interest using classic rock bands, then saying that might not be the purpose and who cares. You're an idiot.

Your refusal to recognize the use of the word "Reddit" ITT despite the fact that other people understand each other when using it is probably a sign of the authoritarian personality. I may be an idiot, but at least I won't be Hitler when I grow up.
By the way,

After School is good though.

youtu.be/zmS3Qh_SFwU

its not the narrator

its also a joke

How many fucking Infinite Jest threads do we need?

More

Over 9,000

crazy, two years ago IJ was regarded as A-List canonical on Veeky Forums

Its just nu-Veeky Forums going through it's teenager phase.

It's just contrarianism. You'll notice that nobody ever has any serious arguments.

cosmoetica.com/B1349-JH1.htm
Get fucked

Poasting my critique again

The sooner you accept that DFW is overrated, the better. I read 50 pages of Infinite Jest in high school and gave up. I've read 2 books by Alastair Reynolds, amounting to pretty much the same number of pages, both of which were written in a more technically demanding style than anything I read in IJ or The Broom of the System, both of which touched on deeper themes than DFW gets to, neither of which fundamentally fails in completing the ambitious projects underlying their plots and structures, but neither of which received anything like the amount of praise or intellectual labor that has gone toward Infinite Jest and its interpretation. In other words, DFW is worse than an above-average genre fiction writer in every area that counts (except maybe characterization, if you count psychological problems related to turn-of-the-millennium WASP affluence as characterization but don't count Sky Tanner Mirabel or Felka as adequately characterized). What does this tell you about how he stacks up next to the actual great writers of the 20th century? How does The Broom of the System's theoretical underpinning stack up next to the Wittgensteinian project that inspired it? To what extent was DFW anything but a low-E.Q. middling-I.Q. tryhard rich kid with connections to publishers?
These are the questions that keep me up at night.
And when I say I "gave up" on IJ, I mean that I stopped reading because I wasn't at all interested in reading 30-page footnotes about fictitious movies. I'm still not, six years later. I'm not interested in reading books to say that I've read them. I'm interested in reading books that interest me. This may make you think I'm retarded. Maybe I am. There's a place for footnotes, but I don't understand why this information couldn't be better conveyed via experiences that the characters actually have. Going back to Alastair Reynolds, these are very information-dense books--but nowhere does Reynolds decided that he has to attach a footnote explaining what a lighthugger or entoptics or medichines are. He just explains them in the text, or makes the various functions of his imaginary machines glaringly obvious to the reader. Why didn't DFW convey vital information outside of footnotes? Maybe it was because he couldn't--maybe it was because he spent so much time trying so hard to be smart that he failed to realize how writers of information-rich fiction go about revealing their worlds. DFW could have learned a thing or two from Frank Herbert of Dan Simmons, even--but he obviously didn't. The great task of literature in the 21st century is the annihilation of the barrier between myth, sci-fi/fantasy/speculative fiction, and non-genre literature, just to prevent people like DFW from being canonized as he has.

Corrections:
>I've read 2 books by Alastair Reynolds,
Should say
>In the past week, I've read 2 books by Alastair Reynolds,

You didn't even finish the book and yet you think you're making a serious argument.

Sorry, it doesn't work like that.

Sorry, I don't give a fuck. I have my opinions and you can't make me read Infinite Jest. Neither can I, for that matter, because I have no reason to think that it's a good book. Could you come up with a better argument, one that offers instances of Wallace's writing that are good?

I'm not trying to make you read it you defensive man baby.

I said that nobody has any serious arguments against it, and you reply with 500 words that amount to "I didn't enjoy the first 50 pages so it's overrated." I don't give a FUCK if you ever read the book in the future, but there's no way you can make that pass for a serious argument and you should feel ashamed for trying.

It left me completely bored because of the lack of emotional content. Maybe you will say DFW "shows doesn't tell" regarding emotions but I would answer that he does not, that the only emotion conveyed in that text is dismal sentimentality towards the only environment in which the Wallaces of the world feel safe: institutions and absolute condescending incomprehension/repressed fear towards anything that is not institutional. Like above user said it simply was not worth it to me to finish it for the sake of having finished. I am currently reading the P+V "War and Peace" and loving it so I'm not averse to doorstoppers nor to densely laden prose (I very much enjoy the occasional post-structuralist) IJ really sucked is all.

>You didn't even finish eating the whole pile of shit how can you say it tastes like shit?

He never even gave any serious arguments justifying that the first 50 pages should be considered shit. Nor is there any reason to believe that, assuming the first fifty pages are shit, the rest of the book is also shit. A might lead to B, and B to C, but that doesn't make C true if A isn't true.

He said that IJ "fundamentally fails in completing the ambitious projects underlying [its] plots and structures" without any explanation all, and then goes on to say he didn't even read past the first 50 pages. He's an idiot, as are you.

>The ya makes me want to talk but I haven't read the books so here are some books I read

Crackheads are sleepwalkers.

He was shitting on the side-walk, looking at me with a cheeky grin. "David Foster Wallace," he shouted, his bright blue turd flapping in the air. "David Foster Wallace!"
[...]
Five hundred million years elapse. The earth is a charred wasteland, and the wind she howls inconsolable: David... Foster... Wallaaaaaace.

>nobody has any serious arguments against it
You triple nigger, more than one has been posted ITT. You can deny that things like exist all you want, but we all know that critiques exist of this book.
You're an idiot if you slogged through 1,000 miles of shit and then refuse to admit that your shoes are dirty. I'm smart because I know that you slogged through 1,000 miles of shit, laughing at you because you're too ashamed of ending the charade of wisdom that you base around your appreciation of DFW to shower.

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This image is top-of-the-notch avantgarde memery. I will write a madman-post later in response, though i'm somewhat paranoid as to why you have chosen to respond with a Fitzcarraldo-image to my post. Sean, are you fucking with me?!

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Don't like this one too much. Struggling to figure out why, because i'm simultaneously trying to figure out why Kafka appears "heroic" to so many.

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Show all you've got. I will gift you a (you) for every single one.

This here i like more, though i feel nostalgic for the minimalism of the first image

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FUcking awesome bro

Great minimalism, it really makes one think......

Here a rec of mine: Kuroi Ame.

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In terms of drawing this is my favourite. Love both faces

good movie

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I like the confusion it evokes. It's pleasantly nonsensical, it leaves a tingling desire to find out the cause for this effect, pleasant because it also feels ok to not know.

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Very nice drawing

To be a bit more specific: I especially like the ass and feet of that girl

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That hand is very eery.

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>This is the book that never ends,
>Yes it goes on and on my friends
>Some people, started reading it not knowing what it was,
>And they will keep on reading it forever just because,
>This is the book that never ends,
>Yes it goes on and on my friends,
>Some people.....

Great. I wish i hadn't deleted my Autismodrawings. I think you'd dig them.

I'm entering the next zone you little cretin what you can'T SEE FROM THAT LIGHTTOWER YOU CALL CONSCIOUS IS THAT I DON#t even care THAT YOU HACKED MY COMPOUTER AND CHECKED WHAT FIMS I#VE BEEN WATCHING OKß1 gOOD; Its toally ok that you know that i'm watching Fitzcarraldo two weeks ago and also ordered Herzogs diary on making it and watched Le Burden of Dreams and also some passages of Mein Bester Feind. I don't care, ok?! He said and then walked upwards until he was on his roof from where he could see hence all the world before his little eyes. The categories of seeing are narrow ssaid Calibrator Joey and counted them with his fingers. 7, there are seven. One Two Three for Seven . Suddenly a frricken police helicoptor showed up on the roof and people with uniforms forom the police shouted: Hey you don't die you stupid mongoloid. Suicide is anti-legal in this polis. Calibrator Joe couldn't bear being watched in such a private matter as reflecting on life on the roof of my house so he jumped but not into death of self but rather into another world of beings. There he found the Drawer. The Drawer was a man of small stature but grandiose gestures. His fingers were filled to the brim with grace and his face was that of a coonosoir of human affairs. In fact a tinge of deep deep sadness played in the corners of his static smile. Yes, Calibrator Joe concluded, this man is suffering from the weight of his own existance. I can sense that he's seeking escape in absurdist images which he draws. But i can also sense more. I can sense that he's got a big big fetish for Incest Hentais. Where did that come from he wondered but did not think furtherly about it, being aware that he had been silent for 2 minutes while The Drawe waited anxiously and increasingly nervously on the steps of the door that lead to the outward nature of all. Come in said Drawer with forgiving acceptance. Come in now, there is no need to fear. I heard you were agitated because i knew what you had watched no? calibrator Joe was filled with shame. Shame was pouring out of his ears and spoiling the expensive wood that made up the floor of this building. "oh let me clean this" said Calibrator Joe and took out his handkerchiefs which were wet - from tears as The Drawer saw. He went closer to Calibrator Jim and touched him on his shoulders. Are you a sad man, Calibrator Joe? He asked. Calibrator Joe felt uncomfortable. He felt in a way like an animal in front of an actual jhman being. as if he wished to be an animal wishing to be petted, to feel th eother mans touch only to be comforted and wave his tail around like a dog would but something in thim hesitotted and he said: Sadness is for weak man. I'm Calibrator Joe. He pushed The Drawe away and went out of the house and walked down the stairs that led out of thehouse into the nature of all. Trying to forget these feelingz he stole melons from The Drawers gardens in an act of open rebellion and disapproval of unexpected emotionality.

quit your quibble quibble

wOAH

Still better than Infinite Jest

Furniture Mike could already see the sun going up from his window because it was early in the morning so early that one could say: Late Night Early Morning. But e did not care, he was a man of foolish bravery. He once had said: I'm not even going to sleep tonight and pulled it through. This made him an heroic figure of modernity argued some observors of this act of arabian burlesquery. But today other matters were important to Furniture Mike. He had seen something strange and new something new and uncategroized. He was trying to find the fitting terms whil tactical rhymths emerged in the back of his mind and lead him astray from a path of clarity in thought and abstraction. tthe motifc were passions unknown, his soul an animated vehicle of actions unexpected. He tried to think but could not. Rhythmical patters emerged inside his ears and where once was brain now was DIGITAL CONSCOUSNESS. DIGITAL CONSCIOUSNESS he spelled out into the empty and clean air. Digital consciousness - he said and thought and wrote several times into cyberspace, leaving no trace of individuality. Digital Cyberbrain he wrote out loud into the masses of passing data. Cyberconsciousness of masses he reflected silently and slowly. Flow of Information. River forms data into Gestalt, he scribbled onto his notebook. Natural Selection through method of Acceptance/Rejection in UrSuppe. Virtual Seele he said. Physical and Mind separated... he emailed to his mother. He left a note for his roommate saying: Existance of total Languality - Dissolution of Material self Y/N. and then went into the bathroom. He wrote: Meme Singularity 20 times onto the toilet seat and licked dirty water off the stained toilet insides. Destiny: Human Revolution Through Chain of Linguistic Retaliation. He configured his router newly and ate potato chips. EGO MANIFESTS IN ANONIMITY DOUBLY he wrote on a potato chip and ate it.IT WRITES IN ME THEREFORE IT IS it wrote on his asscheeks. A person walked into his room and eyed him. He could not see her anymore. Wired Into The MainFrame of Human Instrumentality he spoke out loud into the vibrating air of his room. The person moved towards him in slow steps. BECOMING IS OUR CYBERRELIGION he mumbled into her ear. She took his Mouth and kissed him with passionate intesity. He spoke: CAN YOU READ THESE WORDS into her moith while her lip playefully touched his teeth and tongue.Her hand grabbed his hair with toying heavyness and he hacked into the mainframe with his CYBERBRAIN. She was THERE too. She said nothing but stared at him. She was a FIGURE without FLESH. her Eyes were Empty White. They were no Eyes. He moved his head across it's axis and stared into Digital Infinity. Streams of Information were not visualized. moving beyond the borders of digital cyber control we are he announced. it's all moving in faster now, hold your seatbelets he said. Hold them tightly. Grab the lamposts and don't let loooseee and as he said it a sudden rift LIGHT SHONE INTO HIS EMPTY EYE

Water flew down the rain. It ran then down the street and sank down into the ground in the ground in became plant and flew upawrads into sky and stood as tree. A world was born this moment. It Observed it with languid apathy. I knew it would occur this way, it said into the microphone. This is my world, it said. And saw the tree on earth under rain in light of It, as the Sun who shone at will. And there be Man. It said thus and there was Man. There also be Niggerz it said. And niggers danced in circles. Now some more water and all drowned. It was slightly amuzed and clapped in applaud at itself. Good job. It said to itself. Now go beyond. And it went beyond. Now make Woman out of sand. And sandwoman flowwed tdown the Sahara. Make them mor egraceful it said to itself. And they moved like Snakes, SAND through SAND. Now some water and it all drowned. Very nice. Very well done, it congratulated itself. There was a thunerstorm in the distance. It noticed so and wondered. It can hear water. And feets walking through the sand beneath the world of tworlds. I shall see. And it wandered down the space onto the world of worlds where a thunderstorm brew heavily . A single tanimal was hesitating in sand. It's eyes green like leafs of summer trees and it's feet sensible in their design for sandish surroundings. It was a deer. It saw it and the thundestorm disappeared. White noise came up and consumed the Worlds of Worlds.Atomic bombs consumed the flesh of a hundred Nations in the eyes of mankind. Burned Flesh all across Earth, we saw it all. In their eyes the reflection of their melting eyes. A man walked down the stairs. Shadows implanted into ruins. The Art of our doom, a young man said enthusiastically and imaged a folk of shadow creatures dancing happily in the ruins of New York. There Atomic bombs had struck with no regards for human existance. Burned Flesh. The world of Burned Flesh a new sect in deep forests called it. All Flesh was burned in this world. All souls were burned. There once was Man, a shaman said to his flock. There once was Man, the people thought. Forest burned a thousnad kilometres wide. A thunderstorm emerges in the eyes of burned flesh. Black Rainz onto the molten eyes of Shadow Corpses a diary entry spoke - it was as it was, she said to her sister. A bomb flash killed all. White Noise emerged and consumed all. A violin penetrated nothingness and told the story oF The World of Worldz. Eyes opened and saw what was there. It looked back into the abyss of all. A dancing ball quite the barock the females said with glistening smiles and beautiful dresses. Shall we dance me lady and poet with thndering eyes whispered into the ears of natalia, the beauty of moon in her heart and the forms of diligence containing it. I think that is agreeable, she said with an inversed smirk that twisted more and more. People danced and music played from instruments. Jolly Laughter was heard and walls of noises carried the souls of all into realmz "Shall we?"

"mother mother father father" little girl whispered with terminal disease in her voice "it's john greene there". Father and Mothers hearts were drowning in pain. "That's wonderful, my girl. Shall we go to him". The girl nodded, moving closer every moment to her early death. "Yes" she said. John Greene was drinking starbucks cofffee and writing to friends on whatsapp. He thought he was funny and contained a lughter at his own jokes. "I'm senisitve" he thought. "I'm a pretty sensitive guy." the girl opened the door to starbucks and made steps in a relatively normal way thus moving towardshis table. Mother and Father stared from outside through the tainted glass. The father said: Our dauhter is dying soon. The mother responded:
yes
YES
the soul is out.
They chuckeld.The daughter inside was almost crying for she was so sad that her fragile body was soon to do from terminal disease and she had been told that life was wonderful by John Greene. In her hands she carred a knife but it was obscured by the fooling brightness of her lovely little child eyes, a promie of innocence and goodness. A promise to betray, one could say. Jon Greene was a happpy man. "I'm relatively happy at the moment" he thought. "Soon i'm going to write a new novel. I have several ideas. 9 Ideas."

Father and mother stood outsdie and waited. Father was a large man with a belly and hair everywhere. His penis was large and thick his ass very hairy. Mother had smal tits but father liked it. Her hair was long and brown, her eyes exotic but he rpersonality was shy. A shyness that contained a promise of more and there was more. She was a treaure of great gifts, waiting for the right key to unlock her, or so John Greene would have writen. Her Ass was satisfying". Father would slap her when daughter was at hospital busy with dying. He would whisper things into her ear. No they stodd outside and waited pateintly. They stared at gray buildings who provided economical beneifts to the world. "You can never see people in wondows" mfather said. She noded. "Trei"

John Greene thought: "Starbucks is the best." he posted a selfie with Starbucks on Instagram. "I could make some more money i think. For the family" He felt manly. "I have suffered in my life" He did a doodle on a piece of pape. "But many people have suffered much more than me. blacks f.I should be tahnkful, i should be shameful" superego strick-

The girl with terminal diseases had reached his able, she was 9/10rd dead. Her body was undeveloped. It would soon take reverse course and rot instead of grow. Reduce instead of increase MASS. She was unhappy with herself and stared at feet that were hers. "John Green, Mr." John Green looked up and saw her face. "Hello" he said with a friendly and likeable expression of trust. "I'm a god person after all? I'm really agreeabl. I don't pick my nose i thinkWhat i do is solid and friendly. I know how to write love stories. It's because i've read my mothers books. I could wr-" STABBINGZ OCCUR

great short story
would read again
i like te story and style was

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I go away for two days and now it's a meme to pretend you have schizophrenia