I was reading Infinite Jest today. This was a book suggested to me by a friend. I have heard it said that if you want to look hip, trendy, and intellectual, this book is a must to be seen reading. Unfortunately, I have a Kindle. And I was alone. So no one actually saw me reading it. That means, of course, that I have to blog about reading it to get my pseudo-intellectual street cred.
At this point, I should mention I have been reading this book, off and on, for five months and change. My Kindle doesn't show page numbers, but assures me I'm only 10 % into it. It's dense. Difficult to get into. But I made a break-through today and started to enjoy it. And then I hit the line.
Before I reveal the line, let me explain where I stand on what I feel good writing is. Good writers don't waste words. Every sentence, every detail, everything in a novel should either a) advance the action or b) reveal something about a character or a situation. I think I have that idea courtesy of Kurt Vonnegut. I'm almost sure of it. But I do believe it.
And now, the line: "The door was much newer than the wood surrounding it."
Out of context, it doesn't look like much. In context, this line is sheer genius. The scene: a group of young men are discussing the staff and the actions taken by the staff at an institution of advanced training. They are in a room in a building in which several groups are having the same type of discussion. They speak of how they (the students) are being manipulated.
The line stuck out of the surrounding prose like a sore thumb. At least it did for me. It stopped me cold. Why? I didn't know. I applied my ferocious reading and literary analysis skills to determining the purpose of the line. I mean, I've got a couple of degrees saying I should be able to read this and know what it means.
But I didn't.
I tried to believe for a while that what was meant was that the surrounding and upholding structure of the system in which the young men were participants had been around for a while (the wood), and that the difficulties and obstacles they were facing (the door) was a more recent development. That worked for a while. But as I sat reflecting more deeply, I wasn't sure.
Maybe the door represented the boys themselves, barring their own entrance (exit?) into the (out of the?) inevitability of greater understanding.
Maybe I should say now that I haven't been challenging myself as much as I should lately. I haven't been reading complex texts. I don't have a peer group to bounce ideas off of, or in turn try to have a deeper understanding myself. I've been teaching sixth graders for the last couple of months.
So the line haunts me. And it will continue to do so. And that is good writing.
