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3.76 AVERAGE
3.76 AVERAGE
This book was really good and was a much-needed break from reading creative nonfiction for creative nonfiction class. Wallace's writing is fresh and funny; reading the book was enjoyable, although not always easy due to structure and its realistic absurdness.
This was such an interesting and trippy read, one of a kind. The best way I can describe David Foster Wallace’s writing is that each page feels like a pop-up book, but there are pop-ups within pop-ups that reveal more and more as you dive deeper. You don’t always move forward with the plot in a conventional way, but you will slither through the lives and psyche of each oddball character in the most bizarre circumstances.
Some of the most enjoyable parts of the book for me were just reading about the strange situations that were drawn up. There was no shortage truly odd moments and some of the funniest lines I’ve read in a novel.
The fact that DFW was only 24 when he wrote this novel is mind-boggling, many writers would only dream to be at this level in the scope of their whole careers! This book started as his senior thesis and you can tell, some tidbits inspired from campus were probably still fresh in his mind (i.e. fraternity brothers taking out the bottom half of their staircase to install a diving board into a living room-converted pool of beer where sophomores had to drink their way to safety).
Truly made my head spin at times, I most definitely have more of the story to sort out and I am sure in 4 months I will have an epiphany for what some of it meant. Honestly one of the most enjoyable reads I have had in a while, scenes that really drew you in, and you really don’t know what is coming next. It serves as a great novel on its own, but also a solid taste for what was to come later on in DFW’s writing career.
Some of the most enjoyable parts of the book for me were just reading about the strange situations that were drawn up. There was no shortage truly odd moments and some of the funniest lines I’ve read in a novel.
The fact that DFW was only 24 when he wrote this novel is mind-boggling, many writers would only dream to be at this level in the scope of their whole careers! This book started as his senior thesis and you can tell, some tidbits inspired from campus were probably still fresh in his mind (i.e. fraternity brothers taking out the bottom half of their staircase to install a diving board into a living room-converted pool of beer where sophomores had to drink their way to safety).
Truly made my head spin at times, I most definitely have more of the story to sort out and I am sure in 4 months I will have an epiphany for what some of it meant. Honestly one of the most enjoyable reads I have had in a while, scenes that really drew you in, and you really don’t know what is coming next. It serves as a great novel on its own, but also a solid taste for what was to come later on in DFW’s writing career.
Great, weird, mind boggling, and intriguing are all words I would use to describe this book. It is a difficult read, especially if you are (like me) not that familiar with the pholosophers Wittgenstein and Derrida, however, it will provide great insights into both pholosophers when read.
challenging
dark
funny
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
DFW es el rey absoluto del absurdo. ¡Larga vida al rey!
Absurda, rocambolesca, hilarante, divertida, profunda, maravillosa... La búsqueda de un alguien que termina siendo en realidad la búsqueda de uno mismo. Magistral para ser una opera prima.
EDIT: Oficialmente he leído más en estos 13 días que en todo 2024.
Absurda, rocambolesca, hilarante, divertida, profunda, maravillosa... La búsqueda de un alguien que termina siendo en realidad la búsqueda de uno mismo. Magistral para ser una opera prima.
EDIT: Oficialmente he leído más en estos 13 días que en todo 2024.
This novel was published when Wallace was just 24 years old. The Broom of the System is set (mostly) in 1990 and the main character is Lenore, who works as a receptionist at Frequent and Vigorous Publishing. Yes, the name of the publishing house is Frequent and Vigorous, and that is what I love about David Foster Wallace. I also love his cast of characters: we meet Dr. J, whose patients ride into his therapy sessions on automated chairs; Rick Vigorous, who urinates when nervous; Lenore’s great-grandmother (also named Lenore) who sets her home thermostat at exactly 98.6 degrees; Wang Dang Lang, no comment; and a bird named Vlad the Impaler.
Lenore’s family, which includes a stoned brother who talks to his leg and a sister who puts on slightly creepy therapy plays with her children, owns Stonecipho Baby Foods and they are in some sort of competition with Gerber. Lenore’s great-grandmother goes missing and havoc is wreaked at Frequent and Vigorous Publishing when the phone lines become crossed and hundreds of calls are misdirected there. Then Vlad the Impaler becomes a sensation, a man tries to eat the entire world, and Wang Dang Lang reappears.
The Broom of the System is an incredibly funny, entertaining, and unique novel and I loved every minute of it.
Lenore’s family, which includes a stoned brother who talks to his leg and a sister who puts on slightly creepy therapy plays with her children, owns Stonecipho Baby Foods and they are in some sort of competition with Gerber. Lenore’s great-grandmother goes missing and havoc is wreaked at Frequent and Vigorous Publishing when the phone lines become crossed and hundreds of calls are misdirected there. Then Vlad the Impaler becomes a sensation, a man tries to eat the entire world, and Wang Dang Lang reappears.
The Broom of the System is an incredibly funny, entertaining, and unique novel and I loved every minute of it.
I guess not bad for a first book but tries too hard. I did like the main character.
Many hilarious, laugh out loud moments. In particular, Vlad the Impaler, the cockatiel character cracked me up. But too many pretentious (and seemingly pointless) ramblings with an ending that felt as though the author had become as bored with writing it as I was with listening to it. The narration by Robert Petkoff was quite brilliant however.
3.5 Stars. What DFW mastered is the art of writing compellingly in the moment. A sentence convinces you to read the next, a paragraph shows enough promise to nudge you on to the next. Broom has all of that, one wants to read on, but one questions what is one reading on to. The lead-up, in crude and fuzzy terms; a narrative sense, in pragmatic terms is lacking. Sure, it has the ingredients for a novel: Intriguing characters, a world, a theme, a story. But it is lacking in the last department, the story is, in no mild terms, sparse. In the other departments that work towards making a novel, Broom excels better than most fiction, particularly commendable is the precise balance between Surrealism and Realism -The greatest platform to tell a story- which DFW, advocated for and mastered. But still, one comes back to the lack of enough story. This is why, I think, his shorter fiction works better than Broom. The short stories are short enough to satiate the need for an engrossing read, there really is no need for a grand narrative in his short stories since he can captivate the reader with his other traits. But 467 pages of constant innovation, despite the innovation, seems mundane and loose, chiefly due to the consistency. IJ doesn't suffer from this problem since he does provide a grandeur narrative to get the more than 1000 pages going. The narrative of IJ isn't something that the reader really looks forward to, but it is there, and that fact provides comfort because we know that beneath genius musings and observations and truncated stories, which really are stalemate-ry, there is something that is going forward. It might not all come together in the end, just the fact that it has come together for the 600 or x00 pages is enough of a motivation to stick with it until the end. And even if doesn't come together, there was enough of other traits of IJ that can cause of celebration and satisfaction. And even if none of that happens, the 'brain conditioning' effect that 1000 page novels have on readers beguiles us into savouring the novel. Broom does not have that going for it. It falls short, it never pulls you in with its entirety, it just enchants with its truncated stories and episodes.
SECOND READING UPDATE
Decided to bump this up to 5 stars for the simple reason that I've now read it twice and generally any book I read more than once is one I call an outstanding read. More than that basic reasoning though, I really enjoy the playful language, the many puns, the clever juvenalia of the symbolism, and the gently mocking metafictional stories-within-stories. Also I've got a vested personal interest in anything pineal gland (Hail Eris!) which gland features significantly here as a jokey MacGuffin.
Beyond the fun, of which there is plenty, Wallace raises significant questions regarding language and whether and how it is always/only a proxy for experience. The many crises of Self vs Other, sometimes funny and sometimes distressing, are at the root of essentially all our real-world human interactions. The advanced-level tricks Wallace pulls off with everything are really impressive: sentences are cut off but we can still extrapolate their meaning, speakers aren't identified but we can still determine who is who enough to follow the conversations, holes are left in the plot but we can fill them in for ourselves... The form of the novel both models and becomes its function, which is really cool and a lot harder to pull off than would seem at first glance.
So, 5 stars - highly recommended to linguistic geeks and word nerds.
*
It feels weird calling DFW playful, but it's very hard not to get caught up in his linguistic acrobatics here. This is really good writing. It's a strange but effervescent balance of casual formality and rule-following goofiness. It also feels quite a lot sharper than Infinite Jest and The Pale King - like Wallace was writing with the intent to entertain first, edify second. Early enough in his craft that he was still eager to please, perhaps? Hadn't fully come into that pretentious image of the intellectually burdened artiste? Maybe.
This is an iffy time to be exploring DFW's wider works, here in the context of the #MeToo movement as allegations against him rise to the surface. Wallace is dead, so attacking or defending him specifically feels half-hearted; there are bigger (living) fish to fry. But Pandora's box is open and there's no escaping the questions that now darken his legacy: Can I still enjoy his writing? Large swathes of it speak to me personally. What does that mean? Should I worry about my own character? Because honestly I do worry about his, now. What does it say about me if I still read him, but don't like him, but do relate to him? Is it all as simple as "take what you want and leave the rest?"
I believe great art prompts deep reflection, and I have found that in reading this man's books.
4 stars, and certainly verging towards 5, but surpassed by his later work.
Decided to bump this up to 5 stars for the simple reason that I've now read it twice and generally any book I read more than once is one I call an outstanding read. More than that basic reasoning though, I really enjoy the playful language, the many puns, the clever juvenalia of the symbolism, and the gently mocking metafictional stories-within-stories. Also I've got a vested personal interest in anything pineal gland (Hail Eris!) which gland features significantly here as a jokey MacGuffin.
Beyond the fun, of which there is plenty, Wallace raises significant questions regarding language and whether and how it is always/only a proxy for experience. The many crises of Self vs Other, sometimes funny and sometimes distressing, are at the root of essentially all our real-world human interactions. The advanced-level tricks Wallace pulls off with everything are really impressive: sentences are cut off but we can still extrapolate their meaning, speakers aren't identified but we can still determine who is who enough to follow the conversations, holes are left in the plot but we can fill them in for ourselves... The form of the novel both models and becomes its function, which is really cool and a lot harder to pull off than would seem at first glance.
So, 5 stars - highly recommended to linguistic geeks and word nerds.
*
It feels weird calling DFW playful, but it's very hard not to get caught up in his linguistic acrobatics here. This is really good writing. It's a strange but effervescent balance of casual formality and rule-following goofiness. It also feels quite a lot sharper than Infinite Jest and The Pale King - like Wallace was writing with the intent to entertain first, edify second. Early enough in his craft that he was still eager to please, perhaps? Hadn't fully come into that pretentious image of the intellectually burdened artiste? Maybe.
This is an iffy time to be exploring DFW's wider works, here in the context of the #MeToo movement as allegations against him rise to the surface. Wallace is dead, so attacking or defending him specifically feels half-hearted; there are bigger (living) fish to fry. But Pandora's box is open and there's no escaping the questions that now darken his legacy: Can I still enjoy his writing? Large swathes of it speak to me personally. What does that mean? Should I worry about my own character? Because honestly I do worry about his, now. What does it say about me if I still read him, but don't like him, but do relate to him? Is it all as simple as "take what you want and leave the rest?"
I believe great art prompts deep reflection, and I have found that in reading this man's books.
4 stars, and certainly verging towards 5, but surpassed by his later work.