Yesterday's Boston Globe published an interesting link titled 100 Essential New England Books (page takes forever to load because of numerous graphics, but if interested in New England literature, it's worth the time.)
While there, you can click on those you have read and rank them on a 1-5 star system.
I was surprised to go there a moment ago and discover David Foster Wallace's execrable and masturbatory "Infinite Jest" is now number one on the list (the default number one yesterday was "Moby Dick.") Apparently, the page is now sorting on reader favorites.
Don't mean to diss "Infinite Jest" too bad, but I couldn't get through it and suspect that's part of its snob appeal. There are those who can get through it (and laugh and laugh at the upper class, tennis lesson, sleepaway school humor) and us peons who can't.
Only got through the first hundred pages or so myself, and have since actually and literally and without irony used the thing as a doorstop.
Did I mention it has footnotes? Hundreds and hundreds (and hundreds) of fictional footnotes. Not my idea of reading pleasure.
But one anecdote within will stick with me forever. The way I remember it, there's a character who is somewhat schizophrenic and believes that aliens wish to put him into a machine and suck out his soul or something. When he does eventually find himself in the hands of the medical establishment, what's the first thing they do?
Stick him into an MRI.
Now THAT's funny.