I haven't been on here for the past couple of weeks (and this entire thread) as I am tied up with Infinite Jest - not only is it over 1,000 pages long, including footnotes, but each page seems to take at least twice as long to read as a page in any other novel, as the prose is so dense (and the font is tiny). I am sort of enjoying it, so far, and have actually laughed out loud a few times; some aspects are a little irritating, but probably not enough so to stop me carrying on. I have to say there is a lot more about tennis than I expected.
I have taken a few breaks from it, and so have also finished a couple of non-fiction books over the past week or two:
5 A Sense of Direction - Gideon Lewis-Kraus
The author is approaching 30 and frittering his time away in Berlin (smoking, drinking, clubbing, hanging out at art gallery openings and having casual sex) with no real idea about what he is doing with his life, as well as having some unresolved issues with his family (e.g. his father, a rabbi, came out as gay in his 40s and embraced a totally new lifestyle, abandoning his wife and two sons), so he agrees to do the 800km Camino de Santiago walking pilgrimage in northern Spain with a friend. Despite the pain and tedium he finds it (mildly) transformative, so decides to tackle the even longer 88-temple pilgrimage on the island of Shikoku, Japan, as a solo traveller. And finally he joins a huge gathering of Hassidic Jews celebrating the Jewish new year at the tomb of a mystic rabbi in Ukraine, this time with his father and brother. The trip does not resolve everything, but by the end, he and his father and brother have gone some way towards mending their relationship or at least accepting each other's flaws.
The book is partly a travelogue, but mainly about how the idea and practice of pilgrimage can be meaningful even as a non-believer: it forces you to surrender to an established routine and set of practices that take you away from everyday life and makes you examine your responses to pain, tiredness, other people and your own life. In a way, the longer and more pointless the pilgrimage, the better. That all sounds very worthy, but it is not written in a heavy, soul-searching, self-improvement-type way at all.
It has occurred to me that reading Infinite Jest could be seen as a kind of stationary pilgrimage - anyone who does it is probably doing it not for fun but as an endurance challenge, and it is as much about how you cope and persist as about the book itself. Not as many blisters, perhaps, but the risk of wrist and eye strain from holding the book at a readable angle in bed...