"We must not take flight to a better land or to some height or other unknown, nor to any spiritual Cloud-Cukcooland nor to a Christian fairyland. God has come into our life in its utter unloveliness and frightfulness."
For Wallace, this insatiable desire focuses on a pleasure ruled by distraction. Without sounding like a broken record; there's nothing inherently wrong with devices that vie for our attention. But what Wallace alludes to is tried and true; the pleasure that entertainment can be an illusion of momentary healing for the brokenness and void that sits in our gut.
I have been reading Henri Nouwen's excellent little book The Return of the Prodigal Son this summer and have found myself delighted and moved by the story of his encounter with Rembrandt's famous painting and the parable it depicts. One of the many passages in the book that I have had stuck in my mind... Continue Reading →
This past February marked the twentieth anniversary of David Foster Wallace’s (in)famous novel Infinite Jest. As far as contemporary fiction writers go, Wallace is pretty highly regarded so the anniversary generated a new edition of the novel, countless internet think pieces about DFW, and all sorts of reflections from dubiously qualified sources. Even if I... Continue Reading →