Some still think learning to “play the game” is that
sad day we put on the suit and mind our p’s and q’s to
the corporate guy whose house we used to toilet paper in our
idealistic and spirited teens. But there is a day more demanding
yet. For really playing the game, in a way that counts, means
saying something worthwhile. And without the protection of your
slacker pre-faded jeans, let me assure you that this is an
incredibly uncomfortable practice. Welcome to the great evolving
discourse of the human race, something our generation has come to
particularly suck at. Looks like grammar instruction wasn’t
the only thing they skimped on while we were elementary tots. Enter
David Foster Wallace, author of the ’90s’ Biggest Book
One Would Actually Read for Fun, “Infinite Jest.” In
his latest collection of essays, “Consider the
Lobster,” Wallace takes us behind the scenes of the media
extravaganzas that spend untold amounts of money trying to learn
how to shape our thoughts. Meanwhile, he’s got plenty to say
about both our use of adverbs and values and why we should at least
think twice about their purpose. Unlike your shocked high school
English teacher, Wallace will actually get you to listen because
he’s adopted in flying colors what seems like the only
effective form of communication left: humor. Face it, if
you’re not laughing within 30 seconds, you’ve probably
already changed the channel. Closed the book. Mocked the speaker in
a five-inch voice to the pal sitting next to you. If it’s not
funny, it’s not worth it, because it’s obviously BS
with an agenda. At least laughter lets us know whether to believe
it. After 20-odd years of hearing imperatives such as “Obey
Your Thirst” repeated in dire tones, it’s nearly
impossible to hear anything of serious intent and not roll your
eyes. It’s left our generation paralyzed by skepticism.
Don’t worry. Follow Wallace and his internal running
monologue through the U.S.’s media thicket of radio talk
shows, political campaigns, the porn industry, food festivals and
even dictionaries and he’ll almost roll his eyes for you.
Almost. But thankfully, instead of rolling, Wallace turns his zoom
lens on and shows us the quirks of the human beings who actually
drive this huge inhuman media tank. It comes as a near shock that
something as monstrous and invincible as the U.S. media machine is
packaged and delivered by guys who engineer indie records on their
time off, or are forced to drink strange cold antidotes under their
wife’s orders. Before long, you’ll catch on that this
incessant compulsion to roll eyes is perhaps a sign of (go ahead
and roll them) a postmodern society’s great discontent. For
Wallace’s humor isn’t really funny at all. The word I
would use to describe it is an eye-roll trigger in itself:
heartbreaking. Think of the previous decade’s practically
inaugurated slogan: “Whatever.” When Alicia
Silverstone’s “Clueless” character heard
something she didn’t like, she righted her offended world
with a “What. Ev. Er.” And whether life imitates art or
vice versa, you can practically hear the word dripping out of every
sitcom character, every coworker, every classmate and every
partygoer since. Not doing too well in your classes? Whatever.
Don’t quite agree with your lifestyle? Whatever. Have a
feeling the politicians don’t even know what they’re
talking about? Whatever. What stings about “Lobster” is
that Wallace will make you want to take back every
“whatever” you’ve ever let pass through your lips
like a repentant smoker who’s just been diagnosed with
cancer. So if I may copy Wallace’s same gracious manner, may
I suggest that you consider “obeying your thirst”
““ the one MTV and cannabis and sex and shopping have been
doing their dandiest to make you forget about. Consider your thirst
for what matters, the thirst you “whatevered” away in
the jaded grunge-rock ’90s. In today’s world,
it’s terrifying to believe something is actually sincerely
important, but at least it’s not so god-awful boring and
grimace-provoking. Wallace gives us hope that we can trade in all
our “whatevers” for a stimulation that even all vices
combined can’t provide and it won’t even cause a
hangover. Besides, Wallace’s “Lobster” satiates a
hell of a lot better than Sprite.
““ Erin Glass