R.I.P. David Foster Wallace

[gramps]

David Foster Wallace's death seems premature not only because of his age, only 42, but also because of the nature of his work. Wallace's writing always seemed to be imbued with the all the constructive qualities of youthfulness. They were boundlessly energetic, cuttingly funny, athletic in terms of scope and density. More over, they were all very noble books. In a time when many writers are happy to rely on pyrotechnic shows of linguistic prowess, Wallace made the brave, scary decision to push through the strata of ego and seek out the wounds of our century. His books, while they wore bright plumage, were works of healing, of empathy and common, everyday family pathos. In time he might have written something that finally, indisputably found the spine of this back-broken lifetime. I don't know, this all is the same kind of hyperbole that will be bandied about in the next few weeks, but I don't care. I will miss this man. If you haven't read his books, which are enormous, confusing, fantastic, you really should. I don't what compels people, in the final moments of conviction, to take their own life, but I hope only that he has found the peace he sought to give us through his work.

[kunk75]

very sad.

too bad McInerney wasn't the former "it" writer to have offed himself. perhaps he's never read his own books.