There's a lot of talk about energy in what might loosely be termed the theatrical world (well, in the little bit I inhabit, anyway.) It's difficult to define exactly what it is, but it's obvious when something being put on stage hasn't got it. This has little or nothing to do with the amount of actual movement on stage; certain kinds of stillness can be possessed of an extraordinary energy. It's hard to do nothing really well on stage, but very important to know how to do it, and when to do it.
David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest is an amazing, stunning, overwhelming exercise in reflecting the manic energies of a certain kind of society, a certain mode of life. But this reader is longing for some sense of stillness.
It's strange when faced with such abundance to be concerned with something a novel lacks. And I'm not at all sure it's a fair comment to make on the book. But it's something I feel I have to say some 240 pages in.
Sunday, February 28, 2016
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