The Pale King

The Pale King by David Foster Wallace (2011) I wasn’t expecting to like, or to be able to get through, or, I guess, even want to deal with The Pale King at all—knowing it’s an “unfinished” novel—I thought it would depress me. But I found it strangely heartening, and inspiring, even. Well, of course David Foster Wallace could make a compelling and interesting story about something as seemingly frightening as working at the IRS. That makes sense, because he makes things interesting because of his ridiculous focus and thoroughness and amount of detail he uncovers and reprocesses for us. It could be anything, and that includes the most depressing jobs or brutal situations—because of his particular style and over-the-top, compulsive examination of details. Since the book is so fragmented—it’s more like a collection of stories, in some ways—I’ve forgotten a lot, already. But this is a book I might actually go back to from time to time—just to get the feeling of the distinctive DFW approach to writing. One funny thing is, that so close after reading that David Lipsky book (Although of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself) I realized how much character stuff in The Pale King is based directly on DFW—well, naturally—but there’s a direct line, there. And so, while this is very obviously an unfinished work, and you have to feel kind of sad knowing how much better it would have gotten had he continued working on it—it’s not a sad book. And it’s very funny, actually—all the way through. And weirdly, for me, uplifting—but that might be more about the writing than the novel’s situations and the messes the characters make for themselves.

3.13.25