The Broom of the System: A Novel (Penguin Orange Collection)
David Foster Wallace
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Part of the Penguin Orange Collection, a limited-run series of twelve influential and beloved American classics in a bold series design offering a modern take on the iconic Penguin paperback
For the seventieth anniversary of Penguin Classics, the Penguin Orange Collection celebrates the heritage of Penguin’s iconic book design with twelve influential American literary classics representing the breadth and diversity of the Penguin Classics library. These collectible editions are dressed in the iconic orange and white tri-band cover design, first created in 1935, while french flaps, high-quality paper, and striking cover illustrations provide the cutting-edge design treatment that is the signature of Penguin Classics Deluxe Editions today.
The Broom of the System
The “dazzling, exhilarating” (San Francisco Chronicle) debut novel from one of the most groundbreaking writers of his generation, The Broom of the System is an outlandishly funny and fiercely intelligent exploration of the paradoxes of language, storytelling, and reality.
which I could see across the fence into a window in your home, a window with a ‘Go Phillies!’ pennant hanging in it, a window I’m going to assume, unless you tell me differently, is Steve’s . . .” He looked at Slotnik, who said nothing. Fieldbinder sniffed. “Also in this room were”—he ticked off with his fingers—“who knows how many sketches, in charcoal and pencil, and some oils, really quite good, of someone who looks like . . . no, quite obviously is Steve. Some equally quite good pieces of
“‘Rick Vigorous: Editor, Reader, Administrator, All-Around Literary Presence, Frequent and Vigorous Publishing, Inc.’?” “Never mind, just there’s the number. Can we please go to the dial-out phone? I’m hideously late, and being here longer isn’t going to help get Lenore back, I can see.” “Of course. Let me get the door.” “Thank you.” “Not at all.” /f/ 25 August I have a truly horrible dream which invariably occurs on the nights I am Lenoreless in my bed. I am attempting to
bureaucracies of Third World countries could be considered an account, there was the Norslan account. Why on earth did she work as a telephone operator? Well, she obviously needed money to buy food. Her best friend, Mandible, who had gone to Oberlin too for a while, worked as an operator. Et cetera. Why didn’t she work at Stonecipheco for undoubtedly more money and thus more food? Food was not the issue. She felt little enough control over her life as it was. A job at Stonecipheco, or a home
of the white collar of her dress and kissing her before she has finished saying thank you. I see her kicking me, in the knee, where the knee nerve is, with a sneaker that is revealed to be surprisingly heavy and hard. I see me squealing and holding my knee and sitting down heavily on a step of the porch bristling with nails. I see me howling and holding my knee with one hand and my ass with the other and pitching headlong into an empty flowerbed of soft spring earth. I see Lenore kneeling beside
blasted since we got married?” “. . . .” “I’ve personally blasted over a dozen women since I married you. Since I committed to you forever and ever, I have fucking betrayed you, hundreds of times. There’s been times in the last year when I haven’t with you, ‘cause I was savin’ it up for somebody else. That ought to make you feel better about me taking a indefinite vacation.” “Oh, God.” “Have a Kleenex.” “. . . . ” “And please don’t think I don’t know you’ve fucked around too. I know about