David Foster Wallace is trying to defeat me. But he won't. I am about 220 pages from the end of Infinite Jest and I refuse to be defeated. I will finish it. That said, I don't think I've ever read a book that I'm this conflicted on. There are breathtaking set pieces here that remind me of Neal Stephenson in their epic scope and insane level of detail. There is so much wit and wonderful turns of phrase that it can be like going into sugar shock to read it. And there are passages that are murder to get through, stylistic thickets where about all I can to do is to chop through.
After all is said and done, I don't think I'm technically a fan of Wallace's fiction. I adore his non-fiction like maybe no other non-fiction reporting, but his fiction is simply too dense and obscure for my sensibilities. It's a failing of mine, not his (to be sure), but there it is.
All the same - he will not defeat me. I will finish this behemoth of a novel. And, in the end, I will be glad I did.