So I am just past the third week’s milestone in my first reading of Infinite Jest and I have Pynchon on my mind. If you haven’t read that far, don’t worry. I won’t put any spoilers here. This post is more about my reading method than anything in the text.

I got through my first significant chunk of Infinite Jest on a flight to Australia. I was seated on the aisle next to a Russian woman and her twelve-year-old son who was continuously airsick. Sleep was not much of an option for me as the woman got up to dispose of the neatly packaged vomit and stock up on fresh airsick bags about every hour and I had to get up to let her out. The flight was packed. There was nowhere to go.

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tags: Books | david foster wallace | fiction | infinite jest | Infinite Summer | reading