As details emerge about The Pale King, it’s becoming clear that the 2005 commencement speech David Foster Wallace gave at Kenyon College is something of a bridge between Infinite Jest and his final, unfinished novel. Michael Piesch, Wallace’s editor, goes so far as to call “This Is Water” (as the commencement speech is commonly known) “very much a distillation” of The Pale King’s major motifs.
But if you look closely, you can see a lot of Jest in that commencement speech as well. Take, for instance, Wallace’s repeated references to our “default settings”:
Here is just one example of the total wrongness of something I tend to be automatically sure of: everything in my own immediate experience supports my deep belief that I am the absolute center of the universe; the realest, most vivid and important person in existence. We rarely think about this sort of natural, basic self-centeredness because it’s so socially repulsive. But it’s pretty much the same for all of us. It is our default setting, hard-wired into our boards at birth…Please don’t worry that I’m getting ready to lecture you about compassion or other-directedness or all the so-called virtues. This is not a matter of virtue. It’s a matter of my choosing to do the work of somehow altering or getting free of my natural, hard-wired default setting which is to be deeply and literally self-centered and to see and interpret everything through this lens of self. People who can adjust their natural default setting this way are often described as being “well-adjusted”, which I suggest to you is not an accidental term.
Don Gately reminded me of this quotation, around the time he reverted to his default setting and beat the holy living shit out of them wayward partygoers.
Gately had been portrayed so sympathetically that his abrupt reversion to type feels almost like a betrayal. And in any other novel the transformation would have been shocking. But so much of Infinite Jest (as with nearly everything Wallace wrote) is about our perpetual war with our default settings, that it’s unsurprising that his characters lose a battle once in a while.
And this was not the first time I noticed the “default settings” undercurrent in Infinite Jest. The Eschaton set piece, in particular, struck me as something of an elaborate analogy for civilization’s struggle against primacy. Here stand dozens of teens in close proximity, armed with buckets of denuded tennis balls, playing at negotiation and diplomacy. But you know those tennis balls are eventually going to fly. There’s never any doubt. The reams of rules and elegant complexity and Extreme Value Theorem can stave off the descent into mayhem for a while, but cannot hold it back forever.
Of course the kids really have no incentive not to start lobbing warheads, and one gets the sense that Armageddon is the unspoken point of Eschaton. But in real life the consequences of surrender are considerably more dire (as Gately is presumably going to learn). Wallace makes it clear that the struggle against our genetic heritage–against territorialism and aggression and intoxication and passivity– isn’t easy. But he at least seems to believe that it is possible, if only barely.
And he clearly thinks that it’s something worth fighting for. Perhaps the only thing worth fighting for.
That is real freedom. That is being educated, and understanding how to think. The alternative is unconsciousness, the default setting, the rat race, the constant gnawing sense of having had, and lost, some infinite thing.
Misc:
Hooked: During the roundtable I confessed that, while I enjoy the novel and love reading Wallace’s writing, “I don’t find the narrative to be particularly engrossing”. That is no longer true: I am now dying to know what is going to happen to Gately after his startling metamorphosis. Will he be forced to drift from town to town, letting the world think that he is dead until he can find a way to control the raging spirit that dwells within him?
The Stars Are Right: Also during that roundtable, I predicted that the Bostons of H. P. Lovecraft and David Foster Wallace would eventually intersect. And:
‘But on this one afternoon, the fan’s vibration combined with some certain set of notes I was practicing on the violin, and the two vibrations set up a resonance that made something happen in my head … As the two vibrations combined, it was as if a large dark billowing shape came billowing out of some corner of my mind. I can be no more precise than to say large, dark, shape, and billowing, what came flapping out of some backwater of my psyche I not had the slightest inkling was there.”
Yeah, well, called that one.
Lost and Profound: I’m slightly behind because I somehow managed to misplace my copy of Infinite Jest. I’m going to wear a button that says, “I Lost 12 Pounds–Ask Me How!”
Well said. I’d like to add something more from the Kenyon speech:
in the day to day trenches of adult existence, banal platitudes can have a life or death importance
in the day-to day trenches of adult life, there is actually no such thing as atheism. There is no such thing as not worshipping. Everybody worships. The only choice we get is what to worship. And the compelling reason for maybe choosing some sort of god or spiritual-type thing to worship — be it JC or Allah, bet it YHWH or the Wiccan Mother Goddess, or the Four Noble Truths, or some inviolable set of ethical principles — is that pretty much anything else you worship will eat you alive.
I’d say that this summarizes most of what the Aa are up to (cliches used as slogans, and the Power).
Finally, IMHO, everybody’s war is not so much against the default settings as it is against the Terrible Master. The default settings are the cage, the TM is the keeper of the keys…
I now realize that the last sentence isn’t clear without another quote from the Kenyon speech:
Think of the old cliché about quote the mind being an excellent servant but a terrible master.
This, like many clichés, so lame and unexciting on the surface, actually expresses a great and terrible truth. It is not the least bit coincidental that adults who commit suicide with firearms almost always shoot themselves in: the head. They shoot the terrible master.
Aw, this post is too good. How many times am I going to have to read this book? I didn’t see this aspect in the book.
I like the way you read. I’m such a sloppy, lazy reader and you make me see what I’m missing. Honestly, can you just become a professional reader and do this all the time? Also: What am I going to do next summer? Can’t you do this again with another book?
The narrative grabbed me also, eventually.
I can relate, but why beat yourself up over not seeing certain themes? Enjoy the post, take it and run.
This is why reading and discussing within a community is important. If we were meant to be antisocial in our reading process, degrees at universities in literature, book clubs, and blogs like this wouldn’t exist.
Next summer I’m doing this w/ The Pale King. Anyone else?
Don Gately came to the defense of, of all people, Lenz. Don Gately is likely hospitalized thanks to his new default setting: taking care of the Ennet House residents. This strikes me as the opposite of self-centered. Maybe he’d have reacted differently if he’d known of Lenz’s despicable actions, but innocent of such knowledge, Gately’s defending his troops struck me as heroic.
Yeah this is how I read that episode too — as a heroic sacrifice to a Schtittian “duty” that’s bigger than Gately’s self (ie, his duty to take care of Ennet House’s residents, even the most despicable ones). Although Matthew’s absolutely right that Gately discharged this duty by reverting to his old street-tough ways. As in many sections of the book I was struck by the brutality, by the way that Gately (and the other Ennet residents) kept beating their men long after they were already down.
Is it bad that the reason this section troubled me was simply because he was essentially defending Lenz? Lenz used him as a gun shield, for God’s sake!
Gah!
Agreed. Gately’s defense of Lenz, a person for whom he has repeatedly expressed a healthy contempt for, has always struck me as nothing less than heroic.
Correct me if I’m wrong, but his explanation to the Canadians as to why he must defend the little shit had to do with his responsibility to his charges, and that regardless of why Lenz deserved a beat down, he just couldn’t let it happen. And given that talking it out in a desperate effort to stall for time until the cops arrived didn’t seem to be a viable alternative, Gately was pretty well forced into responding the way he did – and took a bullet for his troubles. He did not go looking for trouble, trouble came a knocking – and as such, his behavior seems entirely in character.
I’m also in the Gately-was-heroic camp. Especially now that I’ve finished the book and (no spoilers) know a little bit more about his history. I think he was just stepping up and taking responsibility for the Ennet House residents. He made the kind of choice that Marathe talks about later when he talks about his wife.
Exactly. Don G. has taken the talents he’d learned in service to himself — those he’d sublimated in order to recover — and he’s bringing them out again in service to those around him. He’s taking the terrible life he had before and making something good out of it.
Absolutely – I read it as heroic too. And I’m leaning toward Gately doing it even if he did know what Lenz had done to bring the Canadians to the doorstep. Gately’s duty at that point is completely to the protection of the residents – he’s like a mother bear defending her cubs at any cost. While I’m worried that the consequences are going to be harsh I still feel he did what he had to do.
“I am now dying to know what is going to happen to Gately after his startling metamorphosis. Will he be forced to drift from town to town, letting the world think that he is dead until he can find a way to control the raging spirit that dwells within him?”
What the hell? Drift from town to town? Your post was great with the exception of this last bit, which frankly, makes no sense. Spoiler alert: no drifting.
it’s way moe complex than a simply row between “don is a hero” vs “don came out as he is”. Only by getting to this point of the book we can understand why he is inevitably led to do so. Beside all evident ingredients, there are side issues – on which DFW is master: Pat expectations on Don, and Don willing to live up to them; Joelle screaming, which add fuel and ignites Don’s actions…
I this was a reference to the beginning narration of the Incredible Hulk.
“The creature is wanted for a murder he didn’t commit. David Banner is believed to be dead, and he must let the world think that he is dead, until he can find a way to control the raging spirit that dwells within him.”
i found this confusing too…i didn’t see the metamorphosis as having to do with a “raging” spirit either–more one who knew his purpose and was determined to fulfill it. But I read this section maybe a week ago so maybe the memory is fuzzy.
I need to know: did you embed the theme from Kung Fu in your post? Because if so, very cool. I know of no better drifter-hero than Cain, from Kung Fu. Actually, scratch that: Jules from Pulp Fiction. Still, the image does have a sort of beckoning charm.
I hadn’t thought to look at this incident as DG reverting to street form, but the “ferocious jocularity” (if I remember correctly) Gately exhibits at the skirmish’s beginning does certainly point that direction. Of course, I suppose it’s possible to be both heroic and backsliderish. I want to adduce more examples of DG’s heroicness, but that would necessitate crossing the spoiler line. Not gonna do it.
As for Lovecraft and Wallace, I’d like to go out on a limb here and name the black, billowing shape: Yog Sothoth.
Writes HPL: “Yog-Sothoth knows the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the key and guardian of the gate.”
Aside from the groaner of a pun here — Don “The Gate” Gately — I think that bringing Lovecraft into the mix does underscore especially what Alessandro Pardi above has to say about the battle between good and evil that occurs within every person. I.e., evil isn’t *out there* its *in here*. (“I’m in here.”) Which I take to as truth.
Wallace makes this same case in “Lynch Loses His Head,” when he points out the scene in “Blue Velvet” where Frank (Dennis Hopper) turns to Jeffrey (and to the audience) and says, “You’re like me.” Jeffrey then punches Frank in the nose, which is apparently what many initial audiences members wanted to do to Lynch for inflicting “Blue Velvet” on them. (N.B.: I’m a fan.)
But: Wallace doesn’t bring HP Lovecraft into the mix in that essay, as he might have; and for bringing HPL into our Infinite Summer midst, I want to applaud Mr. Baldwin. If I knew how to do it, I’d embed Metallica’s “Call of Cthulhu” right here: [Insert CoC].
Has anyone mentioned yet that there is a black, billowing triangle-ish shape that flits as a shadow across the red drapes when Agent Cooper enters the Black Lodge to go after Annie at the very end of Twin Peaks?
Seriously? That’s awesome. I’ve got both seasons of TP, but have only finished about 3/4s of Season One. Thanks for the tip.
This echoes something a few of us have been discussing in the forums in a discussion about Lenz and violence.
I’ve been thinking about the old proverb (Chinese, according to the interwebs) that once you save someone’s life, you are forever responsible for them. In a way I think this is why Gately defends Lenz- he is responsible for all his charges because he is involved in saving their lives through AA and Ennet House. No matter what he thinks of them, he has a responsibility towards them. This is flawed reasoning when you factor in that Gately knows for sure that Lenz is high when he returns to the house…but he hasn’t kicked him out yet, so the responsibility remains.
I agree with many of you that his willingness to defend Lenz is heroic, but I also felt “betrayed” (or, as I said in the forum, disappointed) by the intensity of the violence of his reaction. Can he learn to achieve a balance between aggression for defense and aggression for offense? And in what context will he be able to do this, now that he’s probably responsible for at least one Canadian death?
In defense of Gately, I’m not sure how one goes about neutralizing the threat posed by three large, very angry men without resorting to some pretty extreme violence. These guys were not just your garden variety bar fight drunks, they were armed with both knives and firearms – neither of which afford one the luxury of restraint. Plus, after months and months of exercising a Herculean degree of self-control, you sort of have to sympathize with Gately’s desire to just “let go” and fuck some shit up.
Re: “flawed reasoning,” While getting high is grounds for dismissal from the house, it is not grounds for dismissal from the 12 step programs that Gately has found most of his strength in — I imagine your average “crocodile” would feel obligated not to reject a newbie who falls off the wagon. Or for the entirely separate sin of being an asshole. And, while I would agree that odds are Lenz is likely to turn out to be pretty despicable even if he were truly sober, it is worth remembering that lots of the likable recovering characters (like Don G. himself) did arguably similarly vile things in their past. On the forums, phrases like “sociopath” get tossed around alot in relation to Lenz, but worth noting that medical psychiatric guidelines would specifically rule out diagnosing personality disorders such as this in an active substance user — the argument goes that you don’t know what you are seeing until you remove the substances from the equation. This is, of course, a different matter entirely from things like legal definitions, culpability, or interventions.
Gately isn’t the only one in this scene who loses it, reverting to old habits. Two of the women stomp the victim with their stiletto heels. Lenz, true to form, hides behind Gately, then runs. Gately’s not the only one who acts heroically either – Joelle and Bruce Green both rise to the occasion. This kind of extreme crisis brings out the ‘default’ in everyone; the hero, rather than overcoming his or her ‘default’ behavior, seems to be able to channel it for the common good. I’d say that’s good enough. I loved the scene.
I’m a little surprised at how many people express displeasure at the ambiguity of the characters in this book. There seems to be a strong desire to identify someone as good or evil, heroic or backsliding, and label the characters with any number of black and white designations. I also have this inclination too, but I see that reaction as a warning that I’m not getting as much out of the book as I could.
One of the best aspects of this ambiguity for me is the opportunity to question my own judgments. For example, I also had a negative reaction when Gately beat those guys (apparently) to death, but why? Why did the Gately character go over my personal line between appropriate and excessive violence? On the other hand, the idea that he might have done something heroic also resonated, but to a lesser degree. Examining these different reactions and thoughts allows me to look again at my general tendency to believe that killing is bad and self-sacrifice is good.
I suggest reveling in the ambiguity, and instead of judging the character or the author, take another look at your own reactions and judgments. After all, this massive collection of words we’re all enjoying is really about you, not Wallace or his brilliant creations.
Agreed. So many situations in the book are contradictory or unknowable, un-wrap-your-mind-around-able… and I think that’s kind of the point. It’s realistic.
Interesting points.
I don’t mind ambiguity, but I do not like graphic violence. I don’t choose to change it either; I could change my reactions by immunizing myself to it, but I won’t.
I don’t watch Tarantino movies for that reason.
I don’t judge authors for having complex characters. Might judge them for being too vague and leaving things confused or unspoken.
“I’m slightly behind because I somehow managed to misplace my copy of Infinite Jest. I’m going to wear a button that says, ‘I Lost 12 Pounds–Ask Me How!’”
I’m stealing that.
as the credits roll Bill Bixby ” the lonely man ” with backpack on arm wanders to another town
“letting the world think that he is dead until he can find a way to control the raging spirit that dwells within him?”
Oh! The Hulk. Didn’t catch that at all. Thanks!
Just listened to the theme song, “Lonely Man.” One thought: The biblical Cain and the Incredible Hulk are both similar in that both are cast from society because of their danger to others. Granted, Cain killed to get gain, whereas Hulk smashes because he is simply built to smash; but both have at their core an irrational rage that takes over and makes their better selves follow its dark dictates.
As for Cain of Kung Fu, I don’t remember enough of the show to speak to his character, and whether he fits prenominate mold.
Thanks again for the catch.
It feels like an eternity between the 30 rapid comments to a great, and for me still mysterious post, and what I would like to contribute now. Reading Matthew’s post and the thirty comments is part and parcel of the infinite summer experience,but it takes up still more of our precious time (I think here of Ezra Klein) and requires getting over the hurdle of: there’s nothing more to say. I’m on board with Joan, John, Dioramaorama, Good ld Neon, Infinitedetox, Bernie and technohumanistteach that Gately’s battle is not only a slip back or a reversion to a default setting but a case of heroism and extreme balletic finesse. (He pirouettes!) I am in particular agreement with technohumamistteach who points out that default settings can be inculcated, acquired, like new habits, and that much in this scene refers to the seriousness of Gately’s will to remain on that beam. I can’t help but compare Jean O’s post to the posture and thoughts of Erdedy during the scene: no criticism intended here: Erdedy is strikingly present and unforgettable. Matt Evans writes that it’s perhaps possible to be both heroic and backsliderish, and the only surprising thing for me is that he be so hesitant in calling that possible and ‘perhaps’ when it seems so massively self-evident. Alessandro Pardi places the battle of good and evil within the person, and this is constantly supported and confirmed in pretty much everything DFW has written. It seems a major default in his political philosophy. Not only inside, but outside too. Between the devil and the deep blue sea.
“Having no choice now not to fight and things simplify radically, divisions collapse. Gately’s just one part of something bigger he can’t control.” I can’t imagine anything more desirable than moments like this one. It’s violence is not necessary to the moment, although the violence of the emotion is well-suited to its description. I wouldn’t want anyone to describe such a moment as a regression, although it certainly ends up that way, when he starts stomping on the Nuck at the end of the exstasis. The scene is a kind of thumb-nail sketch of the whole book, setting up the possibility of getting high in sobriety, of getting a shot of competence and laughter and exit from the head in the middle of boring sobriety!
I forgot something important in this comment on comments! I judged the original post “mysterious” because of the beautiful piece of music which was left without explicit commentary. I’m fine with that, but it would be great to have a further snippet of connectivity to go along with the haunting beauty of this passage.