Consider the Lobster by David Foster Wallace

Do lobsters feel pain? Did Franz Kafka have a funny bone? What is John Updike's deal, anyway? And what happens when adult video starlets meet their fans in person?

David Foster Wallace answers these questions and more in essays that are also enthralling narrative adventures. Whether covering the three-ring circus of John McCain's 2000 presidential race, plunging into the wars between dictionary writers, or confronting the World's Largest Lobster Cooker at the annual Maine Lobster Festival, Wallace projects a quality of thought that is uniquely his and a voice as powerful and distinct as any in American letters.

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Why I Picked It Up

I read Good Old Neon (story) in the fall, and of course found it sad—but also found his meditations on associative memory and the impossibility of language to keep up with it so stirring and accurate. In general, I often say I'm awestruck by the ability of certain writers to put thoughts or feelings into words that I'd never been able to articulate before.

Unfortunately, DFW tends to focus on the gaps in and imperfections of language as a reason he can never claw out of the labyrinth of cynicism he finds himself stuck in so frequently—so it's of course impossible to read any of his work without the paralyzing implication that he ultimately opted for suicide himself.

(So I would not read if you struggle with ideation. I would rather put my disclaimer on my discussion of any similar works than regret doing so because I sparked an unhealthy spiral for someone in my book chats.)

As a whole, his style is overwhelming. It absolutely hurls language at you and lets you sift, and you definitely just get a glimpse into the mind of someone constantly churning and changing and dissonant. But for that reason, I find his insights can really pierce the veil—either by challenging your stance on an issue, or pointing out a paradox, even if he can't decide whether paradox itself means hypocrisy.

The Essays Themselves

Consider the Lobster is the collection of a handful of essays. They veer long rather than short. Sometimes, there will be pages and pages of disparate phrases he somehow links together, so it's very form-follows-function in its chaos and overwhelm when DFW's sifting through his particular associations.

• Big Red Son — his coverage of a porn convention and the strangeness of adult film stars. It's a lot, and sets the tone, but I ultimately think I would have gotten into Consider the Lobster more easily if the order of the essays had been changed.
• Certainly the End of Something or Other, One Would Sort of Have to Think — Admittedly, I don't remember all that much about this one, and it hasn't been that long. I'm sure it's great, but such is the nature of a collection: some pieces will strike me more than others.
• Some Remarks on Kafka's Funniness from Which Probably Not Enough Has Been Removed — Ditto. Maybe I connected less to his book reviews.
• Authority and American Usage — who gets to control the dictionary? DFW points out the impossibility of anything ever actually being "scientific, rational, unbiased" which—hell yeah—is an argument I have all the time because I really don't think I believe in perfect rationality (but unlike DFW, see that as a good thing.) This essay also really gets to the heart of DFW's fascination with the impossibility of language in conveying himself, a stance that seems to harden him against the possibility of personal redemption or peace. He also gave me lots of food for thought re: political correctness.
• The View from Mrs. Thompson's — his shortest essay, in this collection, I think. One of my favorites: talking about the day of 9/11 and the associations it sparked. Wow. His makeshift flag moment seriously stunned me.
• How Tracy Austin Broke My Heart — a critique of his addiction to and ultimate dissatisfaction with sports/athlete memoirs. If you read into it, the essay also elaborates on his sense of verbosity being his downfall.
• Up, Simba — The extended edition of an article he wrote for Rolling Stone when covering John McCain's primary campaign on the trail in 2000. While The View from Mrs. Thompson's might be my favorite in terms of feel, style, and power, Up, Simba was pretty damn close and I absolutely need to book club with someone about it. Such an insightful look at American politics and what it says about us. I got absolute chills from it, and have so much to analyze.
• Consider the Lobster — A meaningful look at the ethics of consuming lobster. It's so sensory and rich and developed as an essay, while also poking meaningful holes in the reasons we look away from contradictions about ourselves that make us uncomfortable. His language association is also present here when he points out that a big hurdle in us evaluating pain is the inability of creatures to convey that pain to us in words. What makes one's pain real to others, when it's all relative anyway? He makes such a compelling point that we can infer the existence of pain from one's ability to form preferences i.e. we tend to make decisions that allow us to avoid discomfort—so the idea of lobsters even preferring their circumstances to be different implies the existence of pain.
• Joseph Frank's Dostoevsky — Another literature critique, and one that makes me feel very justified in considering DFW's outcome when evaluating his work, because DFW talks about that very duality of books I love: reading them on the aesthetic, separate level while also considering them in greater context. Again, there's a frustration here about the impossibility of getting across what you really mean.

Voice & Tone & Topics

Like I said, David Foster Wallace has this undercurrent theme running through his work about the frustrating impossibility of language as a bridge, and I adore that his form follows his function. He is wordy, unpolished (in some ways), vehemently against politically correct speech, and always takes everything five shades past where it "needs" to go.

He epitomizes another belief I have about the best writers, being that they illuminate the universal by way of the extremely, extremely specific. He is nothing if not specific, with references and this "fly on the wall"-style that reminds me a lot of Salinger—hence, the echoes of Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger.

I appreciated that he pointed out that no POV is unbiased (when discussing dictionary curation in an essay that frankly reminded me of Frindle by Andrew Clements, a book from my childhood in which a young boy decides to rename a pen because he finds the label arbitrary.) You yourself are an unreliable narrator, which is forever aggravating.

The pursuit of "rationality" might actually just be minimization.

The only downside is that DFW gets so tangled up in the paradoxes of what he discusses that he eventually views actual conversation and understanding as impossible. He has that same desire for purity—the unabashed truth of something, which is never actually there. I thought I was an overthinker, but DFW is the king.

He is undoubtedly brilliant too, pulling in plenty of references, literary theory, opinions, etc,. and straddling this (extremely satisfying) balance between scholarship and personalization that I'd flatter myself in thinking Words Like Silver can sometimes strike too. Because the reason any words, art, linguistics, etc,. affect us is because they do somehow feel personal to us.

Because of his exhaustive reflections on these moments of contradiction and paradox, he really is able to go into small, consequential detail on each nuance of each topic. When he gets descriptive, his details are fresh, visceral, and precise, which I love.

He kind of forces you to look at the baked-in tension of certain topics (such as the tension between cynicism and sincerity), and the result is impressive. It does make me feel like I'm glimpsing some accuracy that nobody else has been able to call out as effectively—even though he veers more nihilistic and I veer hopeful in spite of whatever knowledge I accumulate. But at least it helps me know that it's not optimism out of naïvete; it's an active choice.

A Small Tangent on DFW and U-Shaped Traits

Ultimately, I operate in the historian position in that we should not retroactively apply any neurological diagnoses or evaluations to figures who are no longer with us (and honestly, people in my own life too). I think we run across this a lot in modern culture, but we really shouldn't apply any sort of medical, health, or psychology terminology to someone who is not able to give their opinion on a label, because it's all based on assumption. So while I love psychology, I don't necessarily believe it's all that helpful to label others (or even myself) unless it actively contributes to a change someone wants i.e. getting them to a behavior or circumstance that will make them happier.

And ultimately, someone should get to choose whether they want to look at things psychologically. Sure, you can have your guesses, but they're ultimately just assumptions about someone from the outside. To understand their brain, you actually have to ask.

Similarly, I think many labels are perhaps meant to be temporarily applied within a specific context or a tendency (because we can always break our own patterns), but that we (some, not all) often think of them as permanent traits and thus put ourselves into little boxes in accordance—unless, again, you find it helpful to you to hold onto a disorder-related label for longer. If it's helpful, go for it! I'd just really consider whether labeling makes an active difference to you or generates a self-fulfilling prophecy because if you look for patterns, you might be subjecting yourself to confirmation bias. I do think the tendency to run around calling everyone narcissists or OCD contributes to the current pervasive fatigue of "therapy-speak."

The reason I even tentatively bring up psychological labeling is because I have been reading about attentional filters, which made me immediately wonder whether DFW's brain specifically—medically—might automatically bypass many of our built-in blinders. Because we're not necessarily meant to process so much information at once, but he is constantly muscling through a barrage of observations. His awareness of paradox is such a gift, and contributes so much to his voice and insight! But it's also probably why he feels so bogged down.

It reminds me of what a (okay, fine, my) therapist told me: that our strengths tend to be U-shaped. Every pro that we have can occasionally dip into a con that can self-sabotage us instead. I'm very fond of this stance and the active, immediate, positive effects it's had on how I view my life because it doesn't demonize how I operate but also gives me room to grow. Basically, there is a point at which everything that makes you strong, you, etc,. in the short-term also starts to hurt you in the long-term. So I shouldn't hate my drive or perfectionism or self-reliance or anything because it makes me who I am (which I love), but my job is to just identify the line at which I'm letting my own philosophies sabotage what I really want.

So I look at DFW (and I do think he would appreciate this analysis, or else I wouldn't give it) and think: oh, his observational breadth is so impressive and allows him to pierce the veil. He must really not have much of an attentional filter because he picks up on an enormously impressive amount of information, data, connections, etc,. to sift through. His meditations on the impossibility of language are so fantastic, and feel so accurate.

But of course, that exact quality is u-shaped. Because it ultimately hits a line of tanking his sense of autonomy and purpose. Instead of empowering him to feel like he can make these meaningful connections for others—like moving a 27-year-old years later—he instead feels that reaching others with the precision he wants is pointless, that he might secretly be selfish, and that he cannot escape the spin.

I've been thinking a lot about this concept in Becoming Wise by Krista Tippett (which I will review) that I think is absolutely stunning, and so accurate. That anything occurs in a triplicate of SIMPLE | COMPLEX | SIMPLE. And often, deep thinkers like DFW (and sometimes me, but again—have been working on the u-shape) can get stuck in the middle. The way out is to get to simplicity again, and that's so damn hard.

Because, as DFW himself points out (and science proves, and Oliver Burkeman talks about, and this essay Hannah sent me re: turning in my book says too): we have a tendency to avoid or procrastinate the things that matter {' '}most to us.

The mirror those things hold up to us—our finitude, our failure, our dissonance, whatever—can be too uncomfortable, and we're afraid of how messy the process will get, even if we know that we have to muscle through the short-term to get to what we want: simplicity again. (Right?)

Like DFW, you can get trapped in the paradox if you don't believe there's another side, or if you think hypocrisy is ultimately damnation rather than a step to the next phase (my most recent epiphany.) But ultimately, I think that's what's worth doing.

For me, the answer has become to talk to others and to listen and to really try not to get defensive about what people tell me about myself, even as someone who's always built my self-image on being independent and smart and capable alone. But I think my framework of self-reliance actually meshes beautifully with this while still giving credit to others, because it ultimately stems from this conscious choice of mine to reframe dissonance as an opportunity.

Should I Even Be Talking About Psych?

Anyway, I often worry that my application of psych to characters, topics, or myself on the blog means those I care about might think I'm psychoanalyzing them by default too.

I recently accepted that there is no way to write about human beings, to create characters, etc,. without introducing psychology into the mix (at least in how I process humanity), which may make others feel scrutinized, but I hope it can also make them feel seen. Be curious, not judgmental. I am really not a judgmental person—promise. Just a very curious one. I actually think that you can't be both at once!

Despite the automatic process of connecting "very human moments" to my own psych curiosities, I remain forever aware that assumptions are not truths, people are responsible for themselves (so—in some cases, the best thing might just to be there for them because everyone should be allowed to reach their own conclusions), and that the only way to actually know something for sure about someone's own mind is to ask them a decent question and actually listen to the answer.

People have to choose for themselves what to do about their lives, but I hope that sometimes, my book commentary might help you come to any sort of helpful conclusion yourself—or at least, provide some much-needed escapism and consistency amongst the constant shifts as we all change.

Lines That Struck Me

It turns out that it's actually hard to extract my favorite lines from this volume because they're so buried in their context—and often contain a page's worth of a run-on sentence to be coherent. But I love that, so I'll try.

As always, these thoughts and excerpts struck me for some reason; I don't necessarily agree with them or not (like I do believe that love is self-generatingly good, even if it makes you feel good, and we are wired to be selfless even if the pursuit of selflessness and goodness is inherently somehow selfish, so you might as well try.)

“The winter's light rain makes all the neon bleed.”

“The very world around [these writers], as gorgeously as they see and describe it, tends to exist only for them insofar as it evokes impressions and associations and emotions and desires inside the great self.”

“When I say or write something, there are actually a whole lot of different things I am communicating. The propositional content (i.e., the verbal information I'm trying to convey) is only one part of it. Another part is stuff about me, the communicator. Everyone knows this...And different levels of diction and formality are only the simplest kinds of distinction; things get way more complicated in the sorts of interpersonal communication where social relations and feelings and moods come into play...English usage is, as a practical matter, a function of whom you’re talking to and how you want that person to respond — not just to your utterance but also to you.”

“One side effect of the Horror was an overwhelming desire to call everyone you loved.”

“...letting people witness concrete, transient instantiations of a grace that for most of us remains abstract and immanent.”

“Something about him made a lot of us feel the guy wanted something different from us, something more than votes or money, something old and maybe corny but with a weird achy pull to it like a whiff of a childhood smell or a name on the tip of your tongue, something that would make us think about what terms like “service” and “sacrifice” and “honor” might really refer to, like whether they actually stood for something, maybe.”

“...American type of ambivalence, a sort of interior war between your deep need to believe and your deep belief that the need to believe is bullshit...”

“What's the difference between hypocrisy and paradox?”

“But if you, like poor old Rolling Stone, have come to a point on the Trail where you've started fearing your own cynicism almost as much as you fear your own credulity...whether he's truly 'for real' now depends less on what is in his heart than on what might be in yours. Try to stay awake.”

“Since pain is a totally subjective mental experience, we do not have direct access to anyone or anything's pain but our own;”

“when it comes to defending such a belief, even to myself, I have to acknowledge that (a) I have an obvious selfish interest in this belief, since I like to eat certain kinds of animals and want to be able to keep doing it, and (b) I haven't succeeded in working out any sort of personal ethical system in which the belief is truly defensible instead of just selfishly convenient.”

“It turns out that there is no honest way to avoid certain moral questions.”

“That is, is your refusal to think about any of this the product of actual thought, or is it just that you don't want to think about it? And if the latter, then why not? Do you ever think, even idly, about the possible reasons for your reluctance to think about it?”

“Is it possible really to love other people? If I’m lonely and in pain, everyone outside me is potential relief—I need them. But can you really love what you need so badly?...so I'm back at trying to overcome my selfishness for self-interested reasons. Is there any way out of this bind?”

Overall Thoughts

Overall, Consider the Lobster was difficult to get into at the beginning but ultimately rewarding. Sometimes, my attention would lag because I do think David Foster Wallace's writing style is fundamentally overwhelming, but I so, so appreciate his ability to carry this specific weight and his gift in sharing it with others.

I'm sure I'll pick up another book of his essays. And I really would like to book club Up, Simba with someone.

I'm so sad that he had the ending he did, and hope that anyone who might feel similarly can resolve themselves to the point of finding the relief they need. (And again, re: the sidebar—always here for anyone who feels like they don't have anybody else to try to understand!)

I read into this especially as he was talking about the inability of the lobsters to express pain at a slow boil, and how we would never know, because in many ways, his insights re: the lobster felt unconsciously parallel.

For fans of:

J.D. Salinger; linguistics; The Organized Mind; One More Thing by B.J. Novak; etc,.