The Pale King

Just to get this out of the way, whatever I may say about this book, you should read it. Any criticisms of it have to be considered in light of the fact it's written by DFW and therefore, even at its worst, much better than the best work of most other authors.

That said, this is a strange book. As far as I can tell it's mostly non-fiction, and it takes no great detective work to figure this out since DFW lays it out quite clearly in Chapter 9 which doubles as an Author's Foreword. He tells us that despite the foreword coming after the disclaimer that all characters and events are fictional, that this is only because:

I need this legal protection in order to inform you that what follows is, in reality, not fiction at all, but substantially true and accurate. That The Pale King is, in point of fact, more like a memoir than any kind of made-up story.

Here is the real truth: What follows is substantially true and accurate. At least, it's a mainly true and accurate partial record of what I saw and heard and did, of whom I knew and worked alongside and under, and of what-all eventuated at IRS Post 047, the Midwest Regional Examination Center, Peoria IL, in 1985–86.

The point I'm trying to drive home here is that it's still all substantially true—i.e., the book this Foreword is part of—regardless of the various ways some of the forthcoming §s have had to be distorted, depersonalized, polyphonized, or otherwise jazzed up in order to conform to the specs of the legal disclaimer.

The Pale King is basically a nonfiction memoir, with additional elements of reconstructive journalism, organizational psychology, elementary civics and tax theory, & c. Our mutual contract here is based on the presumptions of (a) my veracity, and (b) your understanding that any features or semions that might appear to undercut that veracity are in fact protective legal devices, not unlike the boilerplate that accompanies sweepstakes and civil contracts, and thus are not meant to be decoded or ‘read' so much as merely acquiesced to as part of the cost of our doing business together, so to speak, in today's commercial climate.

I can't think anyone really believes that today's so-called ‘information society' is just about information. Everyone knows it's about something else, way down.

The underlying bureaucratic key is the ability to deal with boredom. To function effectively in an environment that precludes everything vital and human. To breathe, so to speak, without air.
The key is the ability, whether innate or conditioned, to find the other side of the rote, the picayune, the meaningless, the repetitive, the pointlessly complex. To be, in a word, unborable. I met, in the years 1984 and '85, two such men.

It is the key to modern life. If you are immune to boredom, there is literally nothing you cannot accomplish.

Hola, dacht ik bij de eerste bladzijde: ik beklaag de vertalers die hier iets van moeten maken.

Gatver, dacht ik een paar bladzijden later: dat soort gimmicky schrijverij, met van die muren tekst zonder paragrafen en zinnen van ettelijke bladzijden lang - was ik dat niet al zeer zwaar beu gelezen in de middelbare school, ergens na De man die zijn haar kort liet knippen?

(En neen, het is inderdaad geen goed teken als ik begin te schrijven over een boek terwijl ik het nog aan het lezen ben. Da's meestal dat ik bang ben dat het me niet zal aanstaan. Zucht.)

Het was al lang geleden, maar ik voel me na nog een paar tiental bladzijden als een kanaalzwemmer die net vertrokken is aan Cap Gris Nez, en plots blijkt in erwtensoep te zwemmen. ‘t Is ongetwijfeld voedzaam en goed voor u, maar erin zwemmen? Aangenaam is anders.

Ergens eind 1656 schreef Blaise Pascal: “Mes Révérends Pères, mes lettres n'avaient pas accoutumé de se suivre de si près, ni d'être si étendues. Le peu de temps que j'ai eu a été cause de l'un et de l'autre. Je n'ai fait celle-ci plus longue que parce que je n'ai pas eu le loisir de la faire plus courte.” Ik vrees dat Wallace ook ergens tegen een tijdslimiet gelopen is, hier kon nog verschrikkelijk hard in gesneden worden.

En dan vraag ik me plots af of ik aan het lezen ben over personages, dan wel over karikaturen van personages? Ik weet het niet. Eéndimensionaal zullen ze wel niet zijn, vermoed ik, daarvoor worden er echt veel te veel woorden geschreven.

Maar er is zoiets als overdrijven. Een persoon neerzetten in ettelijke bakken zinnenbrij van pointillistische stream of consciousness, en dan aan de lezer overlaten om er iets uit te distilleren, da's ook een optie. Ik ben persoonlijk meer een voorstander van boeken waar de schrijven er zélf net wat meer werk in steekt.

Nog maar 6% van het boek, en less zou verdomd serieus veel more zijn, dacht ik bij het begin van §7. ‘t Is voorlopig vooral fucking vermoeiend, David Foster Wallace.

Ik lag in bed toen ik aan 11% van het boek raakte, en ik kreunde luidop “urgh, néé”. “Author's Foreword”, is de titel van het hoofdstuk, en het is exact dat: DFW die ons aanspreekt. Om ons, ook weer veel te lang en veel te gedetailleerd, uit te leggen dat het écht allemaal gebeurd is. Manifest niet, natuurlijk, hij zegt het zélf, alleen “The characters and events in this book are fictitious” is echt écht waar. Cringe. Cringe, cringe, cringe. Scholier-van-twaalf-cringe.

...en dan gaat het gewoon weer verder, het boek. 16%, en alweer ettelijke pagina's over een jongen die veel zweet. Ik weet op het eerste gezicht niet of het een nieuw personage is of niet. En ik heb bij deze besloten niet meer álle voetnoten te lezen.

(nog een paar dagen verder) Ik weiger dit boek neer te leggen.

Ik lees hier en daar flitsen van dingen die graag zou lezen, ik vermoed dat er ergens iets aan de hand is en dat ik op termijn zal zien dat wat een eindeloze reeks onverbonden nonsens lijkt, eigenlijk een ingenieuze kaleidoskoop zal zijn, maar miljaar.

Ik zit over de helft van het boek, zegt de teller van mijn Kindle me, en het steekt me als sinds veel te veel tijd enorm veel te veel tegen. Hier en daar een flits en dan weer een dood eind, dat is het patroon zowat tot nog toe. Kijk, omdat gedeelde smart halve smart is, bij deze §25:

‘Irrelevant' Chris Fogle turns a page. Howard Cardwell turns a page. Ken Wax turns a page. Matt Redgate turns a page. ‘Groovy' Bruce Channing attaches a form to a file. Ann Williams turns a page. Anand Singh turns two pages at once by mistake and turns one back which makes a slightly different sound. David Cusk turns a page. Sandra Pounder turns a page. Robert Atkins turns two separate pages of two separate files at the same time. Ken Wax turns a page. Lane Dean Jr. turns a page. Olive Borden turns a page. Chris Acquistipace turns a page. David Cusk turns a page. Rosellen Brown turns a page. Matt Redgate turns a page. R. Jarvis Brown turns a page. Ann Williams sniffs slightly and turns a page. Meredith Rand does something to a cuticle. ‘Irrelevant' Chris Fogle turns a page. Ken Wax turns a page. Howard Cardwell turns a page. Kenneth ‘Type of Thing' Hindle detaches a Memo 402-C(1) from a file. ‘Second-Knuckle' Bob McKenzie looks up briefly while turning a page. David Cusk turns a page. A yawn proceeds across one Chalk's row by unconscious influence. Ryne Hobratschk turns a page. Latrice Theakston turns a page. Rotes Group Room 2 hushed and brightly lit, half a football field in length. Howard Cardwell shifts slightly in his chair and turns a page. Lane Dean Jr. traces his jaw's outline with his ring finger. Ed Shackleford turns a page. Elpidia Carter turns a page. Ken Wax attaches a Memo 20 to a file. Anand Singh turns a page. Jay Landauer and Ann Williams turn a page almost precisely in sync although they are in different rows and cannot see each other. Boris Kratz bobs with a slight Hassidic motion as he crosschecks a page with a column of figures. Ken Wax turns a page. Harriet Candelaria turns a page. Matt Redgate turns a page. Ambient room temperature 80° F. Sandra Pounder makes a minute adjustment to a file so that the page she is looking at is at a slightly different angle to her. ‘Irrelevant' Chris Fogle turns a page. David Cusk turns a page. Each Tingle's two-tiered hemisphere of boxes. ‘Groovy' Bruce Channing turns a page. Ken Wax turns a page. Six wigglers per Chalk, four Chalks per Team, six Teams per group. Latrice Theakston turns a page. Olive Borden turns a page. Plus administration and support. Bob Mc-Kenzie turns a page. Anand Singh turns a page and then almost instantly turns another page. Ken Wax turns a page. Chris ‘The Maestro' Acquistipace turns a page. David Cusk turns a page. Harriet Candelaria turns a page. Boris Kratz turns a page. Robert Atkins turns two separate pages. Anand Singh turns a page. R. Jarvis Brown uncrosses his legs and turns a page. Latrice Theakston turns a page. The slow squeak of the cart boy's cart at the back of the room. Ken Wax places a file on top of the stack in the Cart-Out box to his upper right. Jay Landauer turns a page. Ryne Hobratschk turns a page and then folds over the page of a computer printout that's lined up next to the original file he just turned a page of. Ken Wax turns a page. Bob Mc-Kenzie turns a page. Ellis Ross turns a page. Joe ‘The Bastard' Biron-Maint turns a page. Ed Shackleford opens a drawer and takes a moment to select just the right paperclip. Olive Borden turns a page. Sandra Pounder turns a page. Matt Redgate turns a page and then almost instantly turns another page. Latrice Theakston turns a page. Paul Howe turns a page and then sniffs circumspectly at the green rubber sock on his pinkie's tip. Olive Borden turns a page. Rosellen Brown turns a page. Ken Wax turns a page. Devils are actually angels. Elpidia Carter and Harriet Candelaria reach up to their Cart-In boxes at exactly the same time. R. Jarvis Brown turns a page. Ryne Hobratschk turns a page. ‘Type of Thing' Ken Hindle looks up a routing code. Some with their chin in their hand. Robert Atkins turns a page even as he's crosschecking something on that page. Ann Williams turns a page. Ed Shackleford searches a file for a supporting document. Joe Biron-Maint turns a page. Ken Wax turns a page. David Cusk turns a page. Lane Dean Jr. rounds his lips and breathes deeply in and out like that and bends to a new file. Ken Wax turns a page. Anand Singh closes and opens his dominant hand several times while studying a muscle in his wrist. Sandra Pounder straightens slightly and swings her head in a neck-stretching arc and leans forward again to examine a page. Howard Cardwell turns a page. Most sit up straight but lean forward at the waist, which reduces neck fatigue. Boris Kratz turns a page. Olive Borden raises the little hinged flag on her empty 402-C box. Ellis Ross starts to turn a page and then stops to recheck something higher up on the page. Bob McKenzie hawks mucus without looking up. ‘Groovy' Bruce Channing worries his lower lip with a pen's pocket clip. Ann Williams sniffs and turns a page. Matt Redgate turns a page. Paul Howe opens a drawer and looks inside and closes the drawer without taking anything out. Howard Cardwell turns a page. Two walls' paneling painted over in Baker-Miller pink. R. Jarvis Brown turns a page. One Chalk per row, four rows per column, six columns. Elpidia Carter turns a page. Robert Atkins's lips are soundlessly moving. ‘Groovy' Bruce Channing turns a page. Latrice Theakston turns a page with a long purple nail. Ken Wax turns a page. Chris Fogle turns a page. Rosellen Brown turns a page. Chris Acquistipace signs a Memo 20. Harriet Candelaria turns a page. Anand Singh turns a page. Ed Shackleford turns a page. Two clocks, two ghosts, one square acre of hidden mirror. Ken Wax turns a page. Jay Landauer feels absently at his face. Every love story is a ghost story. Ryne Hobratschk turns a page. Matt Redgate turns a page. Olive Borden stands and raises her hand with three fingers out for the cart boy. David Cusk turns a page. Elpidia Carter turns a page. Exterior temperature/humidity 96°/74%. Howard Cardwell turns a page. Bob McKenzie still hasn't spit. Lane Dean Jr. turns a page. Chris Acquistipace turns a page. Ryne Hobratschk turns a page. The cart comes up the group room's right side with its squeaky wheel. Two others in the third Chalk's row also stand. Harriet Candelaria turns a page. R. Jarvis Brown turns a page. Paul Howe turns a page. Ken Wax turns a page. Joe Biron-Maint turns a page. Ann Williams turns a page.

Joycean

geeuw

self-indulgent literary masturbation

boek

weigeren

Er is geen §51?!!

literatuur 

gestorven

onafgewerkt

The Pale King

     *

pretentieus

OK. It took me like a year to knuckle down and read this but I loved it and I'm so glad I took the time to read it. Really good mix of quirky humor and boredom & revisits the themes he's touched on earlier of how to engage with boredom and what itmeans to be a good human being in this society, I guess?

As soon as I finished reading I immediately thought “I don't think I got all of that, I should re-read that.” Which I also did with Infinite Jest which I have not re-read. ONE DAY. Make that ONE YEAR.

Also does anyone want to talk about the end? Or the lack of end? UGH dang it DFW why did you go and die?!