So, I read IJ (as you know), and I effing LOVED it (as you know). Like, I’d pull up stakes and move for this book, because I so thoroughly enjoyed its company.

Dear, sweet, earnest IJ has taken a lot of flack from the blogs w/r/t the ending (dare I say more and spoil it for other readers?). All I have to say was that the end didn’t ruin anything for me. Ok, that’s not all I have to say, because I am still typing. The ending was fine. The joy of reading IJ, as far as I am concerned, is procedural. It’s a pleasure to be drawn into DFW’s universe. It’s not a hospitable place, but it’s fascinating, and I didn’t want it to go away. So the lack-of-ending-ending actually sort of comforted me, in a way, because I can continue thinking in terms of that universe on my own terms, without any clear deliniations of “THE END.”