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The Lifted Veil
George Eliot
Future Of The Image, The
Jacques Ranciere

Why Isn't It Boring?

The Pale King - David Foster Wallace, Michael Pietsch

This is a book about boredom--mind-numbing, gut-aching, apparently eternal boredom.  It goes on for pages and pages of ever-so-detailed descriptions of boring people being bored in the most boring of ways.  And yet, magically, it was not ever for me the least bit boring.  What I can't figure out is how Wallace managed to make such authentic-feeling descriptions of sheer boredom so totally fascinating.  Wallace didn't finish this book himself before he died, and maybe he would eventually have found a way of making the writing as sutiably boring as its characters and its non-events.  But as it is, it brilliantly defies its subject be being almost always so very interesting about it.