
Infinite Jest
Somewhere there is a film so entertaining that anyone who watches it stops eating. Wallace chases it through a tennis academy and a halfway house full of addicts he writes with real love.

Somewhere there is a film so entertaining that anyone who watches it stops eating. Wallace chases it through a tennis academy and a halfway house full of addicts he writes with real love.

Addiction as the model for every kind of control: Burroughs turns junk sickness into a shrieking comic nightmare of mad doctors, police, and addicts. Massachusetts put it on trial for obscenity and lost.

Dark-skinned and Puerto Rican in 1940s Spanish Harlem, Thomas was Black to white America and not Black to his own family. Gangs, heroin, and seven years in prison follow, told in barrio speech.

Burroughs reports his heroin years like a chemist writing up an experiment, from New York hustles to Mexico City rooms and cures that never take. There is no remorse and no lyricism.

Cash tells it in his own voice: picking cotton in Dyess, Arkansas, the brother a saw killed at fifteen, the amphetamine decades, and the night he crawled into Nickajack Cave to die.