I mentioned a while back my top five favorite books. One of which is Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace. On its surface it’s about addiction, entertainment, and tennis, but I got something more out of it, especially after reading it a second time. It cracked open a hard truth: most of us are addicted, not just to substances or screens, but to never being still.
The characters in the book are addicts in every sense: addicted to drugs, entertainment, achievement, self-destruction. But underneath it all is a deeper affliction: a fear of sitting with themselves. A fear of silence. A fear of being. That hit me hard.
We live in a culture wired to keep us stimulated. Boredom has become unbearable. Stillness feels like a threat. We scroll endlessly, binge-watch, overwork, overthink. We’re so used to noise that silence starts to feel like failure. And Infinite Jest doesn’t just expose this, it rubs your face in it. Over and over. For over 1000 pages.
Wallace seemed to understand that the most addictive thing in the world isn’t drugs or fame or entertainment. It’s escape. And the most radical, uncomfortable act in a world built on escape may be to simply sit. To be quiet. To be present with your own mind without numbing it, avoiding it, or filling it with static.
Reading Infinite Jest is kind of like detox. You get frustrated. You want to look away. You want to grab your phone. You want out. And maybe that’s the point. The book is an endurance test, not just of attention, but of self-confrontation. It doesn’t reward you with answers, it dares you to sit in the mess and feel it.
And maybe that’s where recovery — whatever that means for each of us — actually begins.
Sisyphus Shrugged 