It took him about a month of hauling around a very heavy messenger bag, but my husband G. Grod finally finished the late, lamented David Foster Wallace’s 1,079-page (nearly 100 of which are end notes) magnum opus, Infinite Jest.

His response? “That was good, but there was so much going on. I’ll have to read it again.”

I’m happy for, and proud of him. It’s been on our shelf for about a decade, and I hope to get to it soon. After Will by Christopher Rush, The Film Club by David Gilmour (latter two from the library; I broke my only-one-book-on-hold at library vow), The Return of the Dancing Master by Henning Mankell (for book group), The Likeness by Tana French (on hold at library), My Name is Will by Jess Winfield, The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, and various graphic novels.

Yeah, I’ll be getting right on Infinite Jest.

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