Sunday, September 14, 2008
life without DFW
as of this weekend, david foster wallace is dead, having hanged himself on friday. although i am not one to have Favorite Authors or Favorite Bands or things like this that must be asserted and that feature as avatars or stunt doubles, and neither do i care if anyone likes the same things i do, i guess i pretty much loved good old david foster wallace and am not ashamed to say as much. his essays and fictions actually taught me how to interact with the world and i learned really useful habits of thought and action from his prose. plus he made me laugh out loud. he avoided the clever in favor of the smart, and that's a pretty big deal. his prose is not clichéd and it is so goddamned funny. there are several patterns of wallpaper in my brain that come from pop culture and literature and are stuck on good and tight for better or for worse. DFW's writing papers one of the more pleasant and productive rooms of my brain. without exaggeration, i am always thinking of him in some way or another when i write. i channel him in other circumstances, too, and i actually would recommend reading several of his essays as very good therapy. i am so sad to know that his light is out.
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2 comments:
When I first heard he'd passed, my initial reaction was something like "Didn't he die like 50 years ago?" I think I, like you, somewhat learned the way I think about writing from him, and so I have somewhat come to assume that he has always existed. And always will. I hope he can rest in peace.
you're not alone in finding him inside your head while you write. i channel him -- heck, i outright rip him off -- pretty much every time i write pretty much everything.
i am so sad.
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