In Which David Foster Wallace Visits the State Fair

It is State Fair time in America and instead of actually going out amongst the people, the animals, the crazy food, I decided I would armchair the event by reading David Foster Wallace's report on the 1993 Illinois State Fair which is included in the collection A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again.

Written a few years before he took and reported on the luxury cruise (here), also for Harper's magazine, it has Wallace's same breathless style of reporting, same attention to details of smells and sounds, same admissions of his own fears and phobias, and same hilarious mocking tone of the people and their activities. 

Wallace grew up in small-town Illinois, so his mocking comes from a place of semi-affection, not what he calls East Coast elitism. He visits swine, beef and sheep stalls (but not the poultry pens as he was once attacked by a crazy hen); eats all the artery-clogging food that is available especially the home-made desserts; finds he is especially enthralled with the baton twirling competition and the clogging dance competition; only visits the midway to report on what horrors it holds (vomit-inducing rides and pot-smoking carnies) but refuses to put himself in any danger; and wanders around the exhibit hall in awe of the goings on there - endless ThighMaster demonstrations, window replacement come-ons, and t-shirts sporting vaguely obscene slogans.

Here is a peek from his Getting Away From Already Pretty Much Being Away From It All:

The (Press) Briefing is dull. We are less addressed than rhetorically bludgeoned by Fair personnel, product spokespeople, and middle-management State politicos. The words, excited,  proud and opportunity are used a total of 76 times before I get distracted off the count. I've suddenly figured out that all the older ladies I'm at the table with have confused Harper's with Harper's Bazaar. They think I'm some sort of food writer or recipe scout, here to maybe vault some of the Midwestern food competition winners into the homemaker's big time. Ms. Illinois State Fair, tiara bolted to the tallest coiffure I've ever seen (bun atop bun, multiple layers, a veritable wedding cake of hair), is proudly excited to have the opportunity to present two corporate guys, dead-eyed and sweating freely in suits, who in turn report the excited pride of McDonald's and Wal-Mart at having the opportunity to be this year's Fair's major corporate sponsors. It occurs to me that if I allow the Harper's Bazaar-food-scout misunderstanding to persist and circulate I can eventually show up at the Dessert Competition tents with my Press Credentials and they'll feed me free prize-winning desserts until I have to be carried off on a gurney. Older ladies in the Midwest can bake.

On a Sea Cruise with DFW

Here is just a sample of the breathless style of David Foster Wallace's account of one week on a luxury cruise ship in A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again:

At the Windsurf Cafe, up on Deck 11 by the pools, where there's always an informal buffet lunch, there's never that bovine line that makes most cafeterias such a downer and there are about 73 varieties of entrée alone, and incredibly good coffee; and if you're carrying a bunch of notebooks or even just have too many things on your tray, a waiter will materialize as you peel away from the buffet and will carry your tray -- i.e. even though it's a cafeteria there're all these waiters standing around, all with Nehruesque jackets and white towels draped over left arms that are always held in the position of broken or withered arms, watching you, the waiters, not quite making eye-contact but scanning for any little way to be of service, plus plum-jacketed sommeliers walking around to see if you need a non-buffet libation...plus a whole other crew of maitre d's and supervisors watching the waiters and sommeliers and tall-hatted buffet-servers to make sure they're not even thinking of letting you do something for yourself that they could be be doing for you.

With its accompanying Footnote 48:

Again, you never have to bus your tray after eating at the Windsurf, because the waiters leap to take them, and again the zeal can be a hassle, because if you get up just to go get another peach or something and still have a cup of coffee and some yummy sandwich crusts you've been saving for last a lot of times you come back and the tray and the crusts are gone, and I personally start to attribute this oversedulous busing to the reign of Hellenic terror the waiters labor under.

Then there was this nice bit about the sky at sea:

And then in the late A.M. the isolate clouds overhead start moving toward one another, and in the early P.M. they begin very slowly interlocking like jigsaw pieces, and by evening the puzzle will be solved and the sky will be the color of old dimes.

A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again by David Foster Wallace

Let me state right now that the idea of an ocean cruise strikes terror into my heart. The notion of spending a week (7NC) trapped with a bunch of strangers on a ship in the middle of the ocean with no chance of escape...well, I am the one you see leaping overboard!

Reading David Foster Wallace's hilarious account of spending a week (7NightCruise) on board a luxury ship in A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again, has only confirmed that there is Belle and there is the Ocean Liner and never the twain shall meet. 

It also confirmed my suspicion that there aren't enough anti-motion sickness patches in the world to stave off mal de mer.

Reading Mr. Wallace's take on the enforced fun, the forced feedings seven times a day, and the frolicking of his fellow passengers was in all ways, for me, the best cruise experience. My armchair doesn't move. There are no engines throbbing continuously underneath me. There are no smiling waitresses trying to sell me a six dollar drink (not included in the price of the cruise). There is no glare from the sun and sea so there is no chance of getting sunburned. There are no touristy ports of call -  picturesque (the front side of poverty) and full of cheap souvenirs - to negotiate. 

Mr. Wallace was sent by Harper's to take this Caribbean cruise and write about his experiences. The piece was published in 1996 under the title "Shipping Out". By his own admission he filled three Mead notebooks with his observations, opinions, fears and phobias, insights, and philosophical musings. He acknowledges that having one's every need and want attended to All The Time only sets up a craving for even more luxurious pampering and faster, better service. We are insatiable spoiled brats.

I have long been of the opinion that we are being entertained to death. We cannot spend one moment in contemplation or silence and spend an inordinate amount of money trying to amuse ourselves.

Our battle cry: "Are we having fun yet?"

ASFTINDA is a long piece that is one of seven essays/reports/arguments in the book of the same name. Mr. Wallace sprinkles 137 footnotes throughout the text that offer explanations and asides. The footnotes are worth reading on their own. Other pieces offer Mr. Wallace's take on subjects such as the 1993 Illinois State Fair, the impact of television on contemporary literature, and tennis and professional athletes.

A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again is a great read and I look forward to diving into other pieces of Mr. Wallace's non-fiction included in this book.