Freedictionary.com
defines Eschaton as the end of time following Armageddon when
God will decree the fates of all individual humans according to the good and
evil of their earthly lives.” In
order to arrive at this point in time, we must look to divine inspiration, or
mankind must acquire technology destructive enough to invoke that day of
reckoning upon itself. When the
Manhattan Project Scientists tapped the power of the atom, they lit the path
that has led to a point in history where we now have that ability. One can’t help but note the irony in the fact
that the Eschaton game at the Enfield Academy is scheduled for “Interdependence
Day.”
Hiroshima and Nagasaki shocked the psyches of not only David
Foster Wallace’s parent’s generation, but have left their scars on succeeding
generations as well. Young David’s TV
viewing, according to D. T. Max in his biography of Wallace, was “intense and extensive enough to worry his
parents,” and in later years DFW
would reflect that television was a major influence in his childhood, “the key factor in this schizophrenic
experience that I had growing up.”
David was born the year of the Cuban Missile Crisis, so he
would have been spared the potential trauma of those tense days, but one only
has to run through the litany of nuclear destruction themes addressed in the
movies and literature that he would have been likely to view to understand how
these fears could imbed themselves in the author’s mind. A young boy would have certainly been
fascinated with reruns of Rod Serling’s “Twilight
Zone.” Wallace once stated that he
enjoyed Serling’s later offerings in “Night
Gallery.” A number of Serling’s
plots were crafted out of fear of nuclear war. As Wallace grew older and immersed himself in
contemporary culture, it is safe to guess that he watched Stanley Kubrick’s
satire, “Dr. Strangelove.” The “Planet
of the Apes” movies as well as Mel Gibson’s “Mad Max” productions were both premised in the chaos and
devastation left after a nuclear holocaust.
Novels such as “Fail-Safe,” “A
Canticle for Liebowitz.” Even “Dune” with its use of “Family Atomics”
and a harsh forbidding habitat that compared to a post nuclear war world could
be considered part of the genre. Then
there were (and still are in a number of old buildings) fall-out shelters
constructed during the height of the nuclear war scare. One thinks of Henry Bemis, the book-loving
bank teller in a Twilight Zone episode, who takes refuge in a bank vault to
hide and read and becomes the only survivor when the bomb hits. For a time Civil Defense authorities (does
anyone remember the “Civil Defense’ squads?) were urging that families build
fall-out shelters in their basements as well.
You might emerge into a shattered world only to starve to death, but at
least you’ve survived. David Foster
Wallace, as we all did, absorbed much of the fear and paranoia predicated by
fear of the Bomb. The image of nuclear
devastation even appears in a metaphor about suicide, which he refers to as
removing oneself from the map.
There is a body of thought, which D. T. Max addresses in a
footnote on page 317 in his biography of Wallace, that mentions that David
contacted the novelist Don Delillo to discuss with him his concerns that
Delillo might think that he’d taken the idea for Eschaton from Don’s novel “End
Zone,” due to some similarity with
Delillo’s work. Delillo graciously
responded that he didn’t view his novel as being Wallace’s source. Personally, I don’t think it was either. There were so many movies and games out there
that Wallace could have run into and used as a springboard for his own
creation. The most obvious one would be
the movie “Wargames,” which starred
Matthew Broderick, Dabney Coleman and Ally Sheedy. This movie came out when David was twenty one
years old. The plot revolves around a
young computer nerd by the name of “David,” who is looking to hack into games
to play on his computer and inadvertently connects to a computer in NORAD’s
Cheyenne Mountain facility. David, who
thinks he’s found such a game, engages in a computer simulation of “Global
Thermonuclear War” against a computer, Joshua, that had been programmed to run
the nuclear weapons control system by
military men who in their infinite wisdom, entrusted a computer to take
charge because they feared that a flesh and blood human being might be too
squeamish to make the murderous decisions that could lead to victory in a
nuclear exchange. “David” (Mathew
Broderick) chooses to play the USSR, and all hell breaks loose. Eventually, David realizes that he’s
activated a real computer. He gets hold
of the computer’s original programmer, and together they come up with a scheme
to teach the computer tic-tac-toe. With
two competent players these games will end in draws. The computer, as it has been programmed to
do, adapts and changes its strategy to no avail. Having accustomed the computer to recognizing
the futility of “no win” situations, they then let the computer run through its
list of nuclear war scenarios. The
computer can come up with no winning strategy in this competition either,
finally reaching the conclusion that “the
only winning move is not to play.”
In 1965 Flying Buffalo Games published their “Nuclear War” card game. This game, another one that often “nobody
wins,” soon became a popular offering at game conventions and could be seen
being played on many college campuses.
The object is to be the last leader with any population left. Often the country you’ve just nuked into
oblivion will return the favor with their final strike. The game is done tongue in cheek, with a
spinner dictating results once a missile is launched. A dud can ruin your day. There are cards portraying peaceniks that can
thwart one missile launch, or the dreaded “Supergerm,” which can devastate a
population center. This game has
continued to evolve (or devolve, depending on your mind set) for over 50 years,
and is still popular. For countries on
the brink of annihilation there’s always the hope that you’ll hit an opponent’s
nuclear stockpile with a hundred megaton payload. This triggers a chain reaction that will
destroy the planet, and usually a round of the players singing Tom Lehrer’s “We’ll All Go Together When We Go.” No winner.
But great satisfaction to those who would have lost anyway.
Other games in this genre include Yaquinto’s “Ultimatum”
and Game World’s “Apocalypse: the
Game of Nuclear Devastation,” not to
mention post –nuclear holocaust scenarios too numerous to mention. Wallace could have taken inspiration for
Eschaton from a book, movie or game.
David Foster Wallace fans have taken his creation and have carried it
further as well. In his on-line article,
“Eschaton: the World’s Most Popular
Game?” Scott Rosenfield writes about
Keith Pille, an avid fan of the author’s works, has simplified the rules into
something he calls “Eschaton Lite,” and
has posted the rulebook on his website (http://nowhereband.org). The game hasn’t developed much of a following
yet, but perhaps its day will come. My
suggestion that DFW may have encountered such games is supported by a flyer put
together by J.T.Jackson, a
longtime-friend of the author, who mentions in the flyer that he and Wallace
attended the World Fantasy Convention in Tucson in 1985. He could have seen some of the games
mentioned above being played there.
So, why does Eschaton
occupy some twenty pages in “Infinite Jest,” not to mention the fall-out from the debacle that the game turned
into that is chronicled later in the novel?
Most of us spend much of our lives learning to interact in,
get by in, and ideally, flourish and grow in work, school or community factions
as unique as the groups of people thrown together in the tennis academy, the recovery
house or the cabal of Quebecoise separatists, the parallel worlds that
intersect with each other in the narrative of “Infinite Jest.” Like
countries or regions do, individuals thrown together because they share a
particular talent, character defect or goal distrust , envy, befriend or begin
to harbor out-and –out antipathy toward each other. Like alliances formed in the play of Eschaton, being part of any group of
individuals necessitates taking stock of one’s own standing in it; assessing
whom to befriend (ally with) and recognizing those who are a threat to your
standing in the group either by their having the talent to outshine you, envy
of your talent or a personal antipathy toward you, or even sociopathic
tendencies that could lead to them doing you harm. As early as kindergarten we divide into
cliques and begin to learn how to assess, evaluate and interact with each
other. We learn life diplomacy.
It is no accident that at the Enfield Tennis Academy the
Eschaton participants that represent political factions are made up of the
younger members of the academy; twelve
to fourteen year old teens. One
immediately thinks of the real life parallel; youth being sent to war while the
elders who have goaded them into it write the rules that determine the strategy
and set the game in motion. So it is
with life in Enfield. Students there are
brought together because they share the common goal of honing their tennis
skills to the point where they can compete and win at the professional
level. They learn to assess each other’s
skills and how to exploit their opponents’ weaknesses if they have any.
John Wayne is
conceded to be the best player in the academy.
As such he’s cut a lot of slack and granted favors that include sexual
access to Avril Incandenza. His pressure
comes from his father, who suffers from a serious work-related illness, and is
anxious to see his son graduate into the big money of professional tennis to
lift some of the financial burden from him.
Hal Incandenza would be perhaps the best player in the academy if Wayne
were not there. Finding personal
relationships difficult, he has learned to cope by slipping into the tunnels
beneath the academy to lose himself in a haze of marijuana smoke. As the novel progresses, Hal isolates himself
more and more from his family and his friends in the academy, almost becoming
like Melville’s Bartleby in his efforts to distance himself from others, ending
in a spectacular failure to express himself that one tends to lose track of
since it occurs at the beginning of the novel, that’s reminiscent of yet
another one of Melville’s characters…Billy Budd. Perhaps his best friend at Enfield, other
than his brother Mario, is Michael Pemulis.
Pemulis is vulnerable because of his drug dealing, he’s sensitive about
his working class background, and he’s coming to grips with the realization,
much to his chagrin, that his tennis game isn’t good enough to take him to the
professional level. Like the old men
that Bob Dylan sings about in “Masters of
War,” Pemulis has come up with the concept of the game of Eschaton, has crafted the rules for it,
and is the final arbiter when it comes to rule interpretations. Pemulis constructed the game in order to
highlight his tennis game’s best feature; an ability to serve precise lobs just
as cynically as diplomats push policies that enable the implementation of their
country’s strengths and takes this same cynical approach to his drug
dealing. His sales have created a need
for clean urine samples, so in the classic entrepreneurial spirit, he makes
them available as well. Having created
the need, he offers the solution. That’s
marketing savvy. Then there’s the story
of Eric Clipperton, who aspires to a number one junior ranking despite not
having the talent to propel himself to that point. He plays the guilt/sympathy card before every
match by bringing a gun with him and making it shockingly clear that he will do
away with himself if he loses. Finally
achieving the top ranking that he so aspired to, he did kill himself. He had
achieved his goal and perhaps didn’t know how to proceed from that point.
In the refuge of the Ennet House Drug and Alcohol Recovery
facility, those unfortunates who have glutted their appetites on pleasure or
escape substances to the point where they can no longer function is
society. ( one immediately calls to mind
the ultimate pleasure fix…the movie, Infinite
Jest) gather to attempt to de-toxify in order to work towards
rehabilitation. Pat Montesian, the
counselor, serves as the arbiter who determines which of these flawed souls
have made enough progress to accept greater responsibilities. Dan Gately, a muscular man who once aspired
to play professional football (again, Wallace’s nod toward entertainment) is
making progress, thanks to a group of elderly recovering alcoholics (the
Crocodiles) who are there to offer him support.
Dan is fascinated with Joelle, a disfigured young woman who is referred
to Ennet House after a failed suicide attempt.
Formerly the “Prettiest Girl of All Time,” or “P-Goat”, as she was
referred to by Hal Incandeza’s brother Orrin, who used to date her, she wears a
veil to hide her acid-ravaged face. She
was “Madame Psychosis” in a late night radio program that Hal’s brother Mario
enjoyed listening to. I would imagine
her to be something like the present radio persona of “Delilah,” whom you can
turn into to hear pathetically lonely listeners call to discuss their problems
with. Other members of this cluster of
recovering addicts are the sad case of Kate Gompert, who turned to drugs out of
despair and revulsion after witnessing
her father molest her comatose sister;
Bruce Green, Geoffrey Day, Ruth Van Cleve and Randy Lenz, a despicable
creature who gets his jollies from killing animals. He’s a rogue state if there ever was
one. All are in various stages of rehab, and with the exception of Lenz,
aspiring toward clean and sober. These
disparate individuals coalesce into a fighting unit when a group of Canadians come
storming onto the Ennet House grounds, hell-bent on taking revenge on Randy
Lenz, who had killed a pet dog of theirs.
No matter what their individual problems, they came together as though
they were citizens of a country that had just been invaded.
Then there’s the Quebecois Separatist group, Les Assassins des fauteuils,” another
group working like a rogue state outside the norms of acceptable behavior. Disgusted with the Organization of North
American Nations, (yes, O.N.A.N.) and at the seemingly supine tendency of the
Canadian government to accede to demands by their neighbor to the south,
including the recent decision by the Canadian leaders to accept the gift of
Maine (the state had been turned into a toxic waste dumping ground now rumored
to harbor packs of ravenous feral hamsters as well as other terrifying
bio-hazards) the “Assassins” are working to acquire the leverage that will help
them to achieve their goal of Quebec independence. The “Assassins” have tentacles that extend
into many places. They may have
infiltrated the tennis academy. It’s
founder, James Incandeza, Hal’s father, directed the legendary movie “Infinite Jest,” which featured Joelle
Van Dyne before her disfigurement. This
movie has such power that it will captivate a viewer to the point where he
lives for nothing else than to watch the movie over and over again, rewinding
it to review as quickly as possible.
Death comes as the body shuts down while the mind is held in thrall in a
state of catatonic bliss. This movie is
eagerly sought by the group, which has visions of using it as blackmail against
the United States to ensure that they pressure Canada to grant Quebec its
independence. It would have as
devastating an effect as a nuclear strike…instead of radiation poisoning; the
victims would perish of a surfeit of pleasure.
Their tentacles also reach into the Ennet House, where an operative
(Maranthe) is sent to search for information about the movie’s location as
well. All is not single minded
discipline and mission focus among the assassins, however. They are opposed by a U.S. Government agency
that is determined to discover the movie themselves and keep it out of the
separatist group’s hands, and they can’t
be certain as to which of their agents can be totally trusted or which might be
double-agents.
Yes, it’s a complicated plot. Note that I’m barely touching upon the
Incandenza family history, which included Hal discovering his father’s suicide,
his head splattered in a microwave after he’d stuck it inside it and zapped
himself to eternity. Don’t waste time pondering the physics of how to close the
door with one’s head inside in order to turn the microwave on. I did, and I can’t come up with an
answer. You wonder why Hal is messed up? Society is as well. Wallace pens a vision of a time where pursuit
of pleasure and rampant consumerism has replaced patriotic fervor, a society
that elects as its President, Johnny Gentle, a former Vegas Lounge singer. Picture Wayne Newton leading our Nation. Or Donald Trump giving his inauguration
speech wearing an Air filtration mask while promising us a tidier nation. It’s a society where everything is peddled
crassly. Even Lady Liberty is called
upon to pimp consumer goods. The naming
right for each upcoming year is bid on
by corporations. The winning bid becomes
the nomenclature for the year as well as the product that Lady Liberty holds in
the crook of her arm for the length of that anointed time span. The Year of the Whopper becomes the Year of
the Glad which becomes the Year of the Depends Adult Undergarment. You get the sad, tacky picture.
Two and a half months after I committed to it, I finished Infinite Jest. My wife asked me what I thought of
it. I told her that I consider my
favorite novel, Moby Dick, to be a
magnificent tale of rebellion against God.
Melville’s “wicked book,” as he referred to it in a letter to Nathaniel
Hawthorne. The feeling Infinite Jest leaves me with is that
it’s a guttural cry of despair. Most
everyone is doomed to fail; fail to reach their goals of becoming a tennis pro,
fail to come out of rehab cured, fail in their relationships, even fail in
their pursuit of pleasure to dull the pain, finding it empty, or in the case of
coming across a copy of James Incandenza’s movie, ending up consumed by
it. Personal relationships lead too
often to betrayal, disappointment, or explode with devastating results. A father’s love leads to a character being disfigured by acid; a psycho kills a pet and
war breaks out between “us” (the Ennet House) and “them, (the Canadians). You’re scarred by a father’s assault on your
sister, a father’s suicide or a wife’s
unfaithfulness. There’s no telling when events in one’s life will degenerate
into chaos. Hal Incandenza’s
solution: Flee to the tunnels. Isolate yourself, numb yourself, refuse to
participate. In the end, what Hal tells
the young boys given to his charge at the tennis academy is all too true, and
so very disheartening.
“We’re each deeply
alone here. It’s what we have in
common. This aloneness.”
If I were to end this
essay with a musical accompaniment, I would be playing the woeful refrain from “All Apologies,” the song that Kurt Cobain wrote and performed
with his band, Nirvana.
“All alone is all we are.”
David Foster Wallace would agree.
