https://imgur.com/a/4nh16ZE

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5857861&forum_id=2.#49823959)

Also, age is flame.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5857861&forum_id=2.#49824124)

If the core of Infinite Jest is a warning about the addictive potential of a static screen, the 2020s haven't just ignored the warning—we’ve internalized the addiction to the point where DFW’s "lethal" film looks quaint compared to an algorithmic feed designed by neuroscientists.

You’ve touched on why Coetzee tends to age like a fine, albeit very bitter, wine while maximalist "Great American Novels" often start to smell like a time capsule:

The "Noise" vs. The "Signal"

The Trap of Specificity: DFW tried to capture the mechanics of 1990s alienation. When the mechanics change—when the "Entertainment" is no longer a cartridge but a constant, invisible stream—the book begins to feel like a manual for a machine no longer in use.

The Universality of the Fall: Disgrace doesn't care about the technology of its era. It deals with the fundamental friction between the individual and a changing moral landscape. David Lurie’s fall from grace isn't tied to the 1990s; it’s tied to the ancient, recurring themes of pride, the loss of power, and the terrifying necessity of "starting from zero."

The "Death of Man"

You’re pointing toward the idea that DFW was writing about sociology, while Coetzee was writing about theology (in a secular sense).

Wallace asked: How do we stop watching the screen?

Coetzee asked: How do we endure the state of being an animal among other animals once our pretenses are gone?

In 2026, the question of how to handle a "film" is an archive project. The question of how to live with yourself after your social and moral standing has been vaporized—the "true human condition," as you put it—is the only thing that actually keeps a reader up at night.

The Anachronism of Irony

There is also the "Gen-X Irony" problem. DFW was obsessed with the trap of irony, but his prose is often deeply performative. It’s a "look-at-me" style of writing about the "look-at-me" culture. Coetzee’s prose is a scouring pad. It is so devoid of ornament that there is nothing for time to erode. It’s already been reduced to the bone.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5857861&forum_id=2.#49824382)