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.
rather than at, the Tissaws’ was that the street all around the house was totally clogged with cars, and especially vans. A lot of the vans were white, with the ornate letters P. W. G. on the sides, in red. Lenore had never seen the street so crowded. “I’ve just never seen the street so crowded,” Lenore said. “Don’t suppose all these folks are here to try to sublet Misty Schwartz’s room, do you?” said Lang. “Not a chance.” “Must be a really bitching party going on around here, then,” said
all.” Lenore looked at her shoe. Mr. Bloemker’s phone buzzed and flashed again. He reached and listened. “Please,” he said into the phone. “Thank you.” He hung up and then for some reason came around the desk, as if to take Lenore’s hand, to comfort. Lenore stared at him, and he stopped. “So have you called my father over at Stonecipheco?” she asked. “Should I call him? Clarice is just over in the city, my sister. Is she in on this news?” Mr. Bloemker shook his head, his hand trailing. “We’ve
feel the sunburn starting.” “I suppose you want me to ask about the gymnastics. I read a rather cutting review in the Dealer.” “Look, if you want to talk, like as in have a conversation, good, because we really need to. Let’s just hunker right down here in the sand and—” “No, no, wait. Not yet. We’re still dangling.” “Beg pardon?” “To return, the context gives us to understand that the psychologist is actually at best warped and at worst simply evil, and that though he had lured the achingly
inoperative until such time as the console operator decides to let him or her off the hook, so to speak. Exceptionally abusive calls placed in this mode can also, again thanks to Vern Raring, with the help of the Start Out button and a twelve-digit intertrunk reroute code and long-distance service number, be transferred to any extremely expensive long-distance service point in the world, with Australia and the People’s Republic of China being particular favorites of operators inclined to exercise
course the disease is still spreading, it’s on his neck, and almost to the height of his highest turtleneck sweater, and also one or two gray flaky gnarls are appearing on the man’s nose, previews of coming attractions, the man sees. And so one morning, on about the last day the man figures he can keep it all hidden from the girlfriend, and also the morning after a really major and disastrous fight that clearly almost broke the girl’s heart, the girl is sitting in the bathroom, crying, and the