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A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do
Again is the title of a 1997 collection of
non-fiction writing by David Foster Wallace.
In the title essay, originally published as "Shipping Out" in
Harper's, Wallace describes what he
sees as the middlebrow excesses exhibited during his one week trip
aboard a cruise ship
(MV Zenith, which he rechristens
the Nadir) in the Caribbean. His ironic displeasure with the
professional hospitality industry and the "fun" he should be having
unveils how the indulgences of the cruise turn him into a spoiled
brat, leading to overwhelming internal despair.
Wallace uses footnotes extensively throughout the piece for
various asides. Like much of Wallace's work, the essay is written
in post-modern style. Another essay in the
same volume takes on the vulgarities and excesses of the Illinois
State Fair.
This collection also includes Wallace's influential essay "E
Unibus Pluram" regarding television's impact on contemporary
literature and the use of irony
within American culture.
Essays
Essays collected in the book:
- "Derivative Sport in Tornado Alley" (Harper's 1992
under the title "Tennis, Trigonometry, Tornadoes")
- "E Unibus Pluram: Television and U.S. Fiction" (The Review
of Contemporary Fiction 1993)
- "Getting Away from Already Being Pretty Much Away from It All"
(Harper's 1994 under the title "Ticket to the Fair")
- "Greatly Exaggerated" (Harvard Book Review 1992)
- "David Lynch Keeps His Head" (Premiere 1996)
- "Tennis Player Michael Joyce's Professional Artistry as a
Paradigm of Certain Stuff about Choice, Freedom, Discipline, Joy,
Grotesquerie, and Human Completeness" (Esquire 1996 under
the title "The String Theory")
- "A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again" (Harper's
1996 under the title "Shipping Out")
Excerpt
The following excerpt from the title essay illustrates Wallace's
style and use of footnotes:
- "... advertisement that pretends to be art is, at absolute
best, like somebody who smiles warmly at you only because he wants
something from you. This is dishonest, but what's sinister is the
cumulative effect that such dishonesty has on us: since it offers a
perfect facsimile or simulacrum of goodwill without goodwill's
real spirit, it messes with our heads and eventually starts upping
our defenses even in cases of genuine smiles and real art and true
goodwill. It makes us feel confused and lonely and impotent and
angry and scared. It causes despair.[Note 1]
-
- Note 1: This is related to the phenomenon of the
Professional Smile, a national pandemic in the service industry;
and no place in my experience have I been on the receiving end of
as many Professional Smiles as I am on the Nadir: maitre
d's, Chief Stewards, Hotel Managers' minions, Cruise Director --
their PS's all come on like switches at my approach. But also back
at land at banks, restaurants, airline ticket counters, on and on.
You know this smile: the strenuous contraction of circumoral fascia with incomplete zygomatic involvement, the smile that doesn't
quite reach the smiler's eyes and that signifies nothing more than
a calculated attempt to advance the smiler's own interests by
pretending to like the smilee. Why do employers and supervisors
force professional service people to broadcast the Professional
Smile? Am I the only consumer in whom high doses of such a smile
produce despair?
-
- Who do they think is fooled by the Professional Smile?
-
- And yet the Professional Smile's absence now also causes
despair. Anybody who has ever bought a pack of gum at a Manhattan
cigar store or asked for something to be stamped FRAGILE at a
Chicago post office or tried to obtain a glass of water from a South
Boston waitress knows well the soul-crushing effect of a
service workers scowl, ie. the humiliation and resentment of being
denied the Professional Smile. And the Professional Smile has by
now skewed even my resentment at the dreaded Professional Scowl: I
walk away from the Manhattan tobacconist resenting not the
counterman's character or absence of good will but his lack of
professionalism in denying me the Smile. What a fucking mess."
- (Wallace, 1997. p. 289)
References
- Wallace, D. F. (1997). A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do
Again. Little, Brown. ISBN 0-316-92528-4
- Wallace, D. F. (1996). "Shipping Out", Harper's
Magazine, January 1996 (292:1748)
External
links