Besides, is it really an excuse for a writer to say ‘My characters all happen to talk like malfunctioning robots, so you’re just going to have to put up with it’? On the few occasions when he attempts social dialects beyond his own – including a few passages of extremely ill-advised colloquial Ebonics – it sounds more like a grotesque parody than any serious attempt at a socially inclusive writing style. The problem is that as the book goes on, you start to realise that basically all his narrators sound pretty much the same – they’re all variants on the same depressive, overeducated outsider, speaking in these jagged, straining, uncomfortable sentences. And I was definitely willing to go along with that. PROSECUTOR: Objection! The opening section is clearly narrated by a precocious child genius, making the tone entirely appropriate. I submit I was justified in feeling immediate concern that the prose is awkward, unlovely, and try-hard, with outbreaks of horrendous juvenile alliteration. My fingers are mated into a mirrored series of what manifests, to me, as the letter X. My posture is consciously congruent to the shape of my hard chair. I am seated in an office, surrounded by heads and bodies. This was my first exposure to Wallace’s fiction, so I was paying quite close attention to the opening paragraphs to try and soak up this style that so many people have fallen in love with. WARWICK: All right! Well, to be completely honest, my heart began to sink from the very first page. ![]() WARWICK: I’m glad you asked, m’lud, and thank you for showing such admirable neutrality. Do you have any evidence to present in your defence, worm? PROSECUTOR: Your honour, in view of the gravity of his crimes, we believe the defendant should be compelled to represent himself. WARWICK: Whoa, wait a minute there, don’t you have to assign me some kind of lawyer or something, so I can defend myself? Like in Perry Mason? GOODREADS MEMBERS (from gallery): Hooray! Kill him! Burn the heretic! If found guilty, the maximum sentence I can hand down is.DEATH. PROSECUTOR: Let the record show that the defendant utterly fails to deny his foul sin. WARWICK: Well.I mean presumably this kind of thing is all subjective opinion, so. JUDGE: Mr Wise, you appear before the court today on the charge of failing to adore Infinite Jest, an act in gross and flagrant violation of basic Goodreads standards of decency. USHER: Goodreads court is now in session, the Honourable Judge Chandler presiding. Henry Awards (1988, 1999, 2002), and a MacArthur Foundation "Genius" Grant. excerpt from The Lost Years & Last Days of David Foster Wallace by David Lipsky in Rolling Stone Magazine October 30, 2008.Īmong Wallace's honors were a Whiting Writers Award (1987), a Lannan Literary Award (1996), a Paris Review Aga Khan Prize for Fiction (1997), a National Magazine Award (2001), three O. He published a thousand-page novel, received the only award you get in the nation for being a genius, wrote essays providing the best feel anywhere of what it means to be alive in the contemporary world, accepted a special chair at California's Pomona College to teach writing, married, published another book and, last month, hanged himself at age 46. Wallace was an A student through high school, he played football, he played tennis, he wrote a philosophy thesis and a novel before he graduated from Amherst, he went to writing school, published the novel, made a city of squalling, bruising, kneecapping editors and writers fall moony-eyed in love with him. ![]() His life was a map that ends at the wrong destination. Instead of being a relief from what it feels like to live." Readers curled up in the nooks and clearings of his style: his comedy, his brilliance, his humaneness. My job is to make some sense of it." He wanted to write "stuff about what it feels like to live. "I received 500,000 discrete bits of information today," he once said, "of which maybe 25 are important. His life was an information hunt, collecting hows and whys. David Foster Wallace worked surprising turns on nearly everything: novels, journalism, vacation.
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