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A review by kraghen21
Oblivion: Stories by David Foster Wallace
4.0
"... and yet we all seem to go around trying to use English [or whatever language our native country happens to use, it goes without saying] to try to convey to other people what we're thinking and to find out what they're thinking, when in fact deep down everybody knows it's a charade."
This line summarizes, at least partly, the main problem that plagues almost all of DFW's characters; the solipsistic paradox of trying to understand each other without access to each other's mode of experience, language being the only tool to bridge that gap, and, ultimately, being an insufficient tool.
This theme is present in all of his work that I have read, from the first novel to the short story collections and essays, but it seems to me to be even more stubbornly present than ever in this particular collection. Which is not necessarily to its advantage.
DFW is an author who is often treading a fine line between being an awe-inspiring genius and an obnoxious genius. He simply does not always know when to rein himself in. Because of this, his story collections are hit-or-miss, and this one is no different.
The opening story 'Mr. Squishy' is one of the culprits [and therefore a pretty bad opening choice for the collection], being too heavily invested in, and insistent on, a satirical use of capitalist-marketing-and-advertising-language, that is more tiresome than fun to read, and the point of the story [Machiavellian manipulation of consumer identities via decoy focus group strategies] becomes somewhat buried in the ordeal of just reading the damn thing.
Another pitfall for Wallace is those stories where he doubles down on a concept or an idea, and the story becomes too conceptual, an idea forced into a story rather than organically appearing on the page. 'Another Pioneer' is an example of this, in which a child in a Stone Age village becomes an all-knowing prodigy, a machine learning intelligence of sorts, who breaks down in becoming self-conscious.
The title story 'Oblivion' is about a couple disagreeing about a snoring issue, and was interesting a lot of the way, but had a very confusing ending. Would probably need to re-read it to understand it properly.
But then there are those stories that he excels at, often the longest ones. I liked 'The Soul is Not a Smithy', in which a man remembers how he remembers a childhood memory of a substitute teacher becoming, seemingly, demonically possessed, and subsequently shot by the police, right there in the classroom, in front of the boy who wasn't paying attention, but rather idly fantasizing about whatever he saw out of the barred window.
I also liked 'Good Old Neon', a confessional from a successful man with a seemingly good life, who claims that he has been fraudful in everything he has ever done. It is a story obsessed with the DFW "main theme" of solipsism and trying/wanting to be a truly authentic person.
And, finally, I liked the last story, 'The Suffering Channel'. Here, a style-magazine journalist is trying to write a short column about a Midwestern hick whose excrement takes the shapes of famous art pieces. This is- if one can endure poop humor - the funniest story in here [there are A LOT of thoughts and conversations on the act of pooping and our relationship with this natural, but somehow unseemly, act]. Besides, being about shit, it is also about creating and judging art, the world of journalism, the World Trade Center attack on 9/11 and about connecting with people, and, as it were, truly looking "inside" people, and at those vulnerable things that stem from... "inside".
All in all, much like with his other collections, I admire his serious talent and incredible brain, but also get frustrated and tired of his lack of self-restraint.
This line summarizes, at least partly, the main problem that plagues almost all of DFW's characters; the solipsistic paradox of trying to understand each other without access to each other's mode of experience, language being the only tool to bridge that gap, and, ultimately, being an insufficient tool.
This theme is present in all of his work that I have read, from the first novel to the short story collections and essays, but it seems to me to be even more stubbornly present than ever in this particular collection. Which is not necessarily to its advantage.
DFW is an author who is often treading a fine line between being an awe-inspiring genius and an obnoxious genius. He simply does not always know when to rein himself in. Because of this, his story collections are hit-or-miss, and this one is no different.
The opening story 'Mr. Squishy' is one of the culprits [and therefore a pretty bad opening choice for the collection], being too heavily invested in, and insistent on, a satirical use of capitalist-marketing-and-advertising-language, that is more tiresome than fun to read, and the point of the story [Machiavellian manipulation of consumer identities via decoy focus group strategies] becomes somewhat buried in the ordeal of just reading the damn thing.
Another pitfall for Wallace is those stories where he doubles down on a concept or an idea, and the story becomes too conceptual, an idea forced into a story rather than organically appearing on the page. 'Another Pioneer' is an example of this, in which a child in a Stone Age village becomes an all-knowing prodigy, a machine learning intelligence of sorts, who breaks down in becoming self-conscious.
The title story 'Oblivion' is about a couple disagreeing about a snoring issue, and was interesting a lot of the way, but had a very confusing ending. Would probably need to re-read it to understand it properly.
But then there are those stories that he excels at, often the longest ones. I liked 'The Soul is Not a Smithy', in which a man remembers how he remembers a childhood memory of a substitute teacher becoming, seemingly, demonically possessed, and subsequently shot by the police, right there in the classroom, in front of the boy who wasn't paying attention, but rather idly fantasizing about whatever he saw out of the barred window.
I also liked 'Good Old Neon', a confessional from a successful man with a seemingly good life, who claims that he has been fraudful in everything he has ever done. It is a story obsessed with the DFW "main theme" of solipsism and trying/wanting to be a truly authentic person.
And, finally, I liked the last story, 'The Suffering Channel'. Here, a style-magazine journalist is trying to write a short column about a Midwestern hick whose excrement takes the shapes of famous art pieces. This is- if one can endure poop humor - the funniest story in here [there are A LOT of thoughts and conversations on the act of pooping and our relationship with this natural, but somehow unseemly, act]. Besides, being about shit, it is also about creating and judging art, the world of journalism, the World Trade Center attack on 9/11 and about connecting with people, and, as it were, truly looking "inside" people, and at those vulnerable things that stem from... "inside".
All in all, much like with his other collections, I admire his serious talent and incredible brain, but also get frustrated and tired of his lack of self-restraint.