David Foster Wallace died this week (on the 12th) by his own hand, at the age of 46. He is the author of the Infinite Jest, a book which I have still yet to read--a book of massive length that can be called perhaps a semi-comic dystopia. It's on my list. I am going to order it now, as I'm sure a thousand other people will. How sad, this endless phenomenon that artists gain even more prestige through death (if they had any to begin with, which thankfully D.F.W. did).
In any event, you don't have to wade through 1079 pages to understand that this man gave American--and English language in general--fiction a gift. This short story is best read aloud, to oneself, I have found. The movement and power within the simplicity is amazing. As well as the fact that there are no sentence breaks. It makes your heart catch, to blend a metaphor.
An excellent tribute review appeared in the NY Times...read to the end of the third paragraph at least to understand the uniqueness of this writer.
RI more P than you had in this life, and dream more dreams.
RIP.
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Hey Meredith I listened to a podcast of a Fresh Air interview with this author, from a few years ago. It was the second half of the sept. 15th show. Thought you might be interested.
http://www.npr.org/rss/podcast/podcast_detail.php?siteId=7060034
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