Response: “Shipping Out” (+ comments on the Internet and writing)

Where Wallace did Supposedly Fun Things: The MV Zenith.

I first read "Shipping Out" as an undergrad, and turned to it again in the last year or so when I was writing about a county fair. Here, I've plucked out a few different features that I notice everytime I re-read this piece.


Opening Sequence

The first section of this piece functions as a sort of brochure, offering the reader a glimpse of what they’re about to encounter in the story. DFW creates rhythm through repetition, beginning most of the sentences with “I have” before selecting a verb. About half the time it’s a sensory one like “seen” or “heard,” suggesting more passive experiences, but DFW also hints at the active side of the cruise—he’s jumped at the sound of the ship’s horn, eaten all types of food, and acquired a crush on his steward.

There are the beautiful details that might have been promised by the cruise line itself: “sucrose beaches,” “sunsets that [look] computer-enhanced,” boats as “floating wedding cakes.”

But DFW balances this description with less savory details: “suntan lotion spread over 2,100 pounds of hot flesh,” “[smelling] all 145 cats inside the Ernest Hemingway residence,” and a “flatulence-of-the-gods-like sound.” (Or my personal favorite: when he saw “a woman in silver lame projectile-vomit inside a glass elevator.” What an image.)

This is a pattern that continues throughout “Shipping Out,” with the pleasant, enjoyable aspects of the cruise meeting up against the creepy, strange, and discomforting. It's also an introduction to one of DFW's signature moves: piling image upon image and detail upon detail with nearly overwhelming effects.

Themes: Birth & Death

Early in the essay—in a section titled “Pampered to Death,” no less—DFW cites a recent suicide on a Megaship and his longtime association of the ocean with death. He characterizes the open sea as an “engine of decay” and a “primordial stew of death and decay,” populated by man-eating sharks. The image of the shark fin appears frequently in the story, a hint of darkness outside of the ship. (And in the wake of his suicide, DFW’s feelings of despair and “wanting to die” are pretty painful to read.)

On the other hand, the ship is described with a lot of birth-related vocabulary. You have the “uterine” temperatures, the “near-parental” attitude of the cruise program, and the “mother’s pulse” of the ship’s engines.

This theme not only plays up the pleasant vs. creepy dichotomy of the cruise, but also places the cruise-goers in an interesting position between life and death. (DFW alludes to this when he mentions that cruises are popular with older people or those who already feel near to death, like the pair who had spent time caring for a dying relative.) And in the end, to make it off the ship is to have "survived." It all hints to a larger psychological phenomenon beyond cruise-going.


Voice & Authorial Presence

Something I've always admired about this piece is how well it expresses DFW's authority as a writer. How many others could get away with chronicling the efficiency of their cabin's toilet and shower? Or an hour-by-hour account of what one is doing on the ship? This goes on for about 20k words, nearly 3k words of footnotes included.

For me, the success of "Shipping Out" lies in DFW's voice and visibility as an intelligent, eccentric narrator—and, as someone with a unique and necessarily cynical view on the situation. (Consider the difference between his cruise narrative and that of Frank Conroy.) His voice is consistent and dotted with Wallace-isms like "methamphetaminic" and "exfoliatingly," not to mention a healthy dose of dry wit:

[Mona's] real birthday, she informs me on Monday, is July 29, and when I quietly observe that July 29 is also the birthday of Benito Mussolini, Mona's grandmother shoots me kind of a death-look, although Mona herself is excited at the coincidence, apparently confusing the names Mussolini and Maserati.

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Comments on the “Internet is a Disaster for Writers” Idea

In truth, I haven’t really paid much attention to this debate—mostly because I’m so deeply immersed in the pro-digital, pro-Internet camp. When I write, I like to have the TV on and music playing; for me, silence is distracting. Guess I'm part of that multitasking, digital-overload generation.

Yet, I have a hard time seeing that as a really bad thing for writers. After all, Facebook, Twitter, and blogs allow us to network with others in our field and share connections. Sites like AgentQuery and forums like AbsoluteWrite make it possible for writers to look up agent preferences, avoid publishing scams, etc. In terms of research alone, think of all the time that online databases and search engine have saved writers, and how those resources have offered inspiration. So when someone says that the Internet is oh-so-distracting and wastes our valuable time, I can’t help but feel totally unconvinced. Everyone—not only writers—has to deal with these distractions and manage their time. Why do we feel particularly wronged by it?