David Foster Wallace R.I.P.
It is with a heavy heart that I post this message today. David Foster Wallace, author of Infinite Jest, has died after “eliminating his own map” by hanging himself Friday night.
For many years, DFW has been my favorite author. I’ve read “Infinite Jest,” a 1000+ book with literally hundreds of pages of footnotes, more than 5 times. I can say without shame or hesitation that his writing changed my life. He made me feel smarter just by reading him, and I credit his book to helping me get sober and understand lessons about personal excellence that stick with me to this very day.
I’ve seen him read in person and had the great privilege of asking possibly the dumbest question ever during one of his Q & A’s. And I always fantasized about going out to Pomona College and trying to find him just so I could say thank you. But I didn’t, because I didn’t want to be one of those freakish fanboys that stalks their cultural idols. So I just settled on thanking him from afar and waiting every day for a new piece of fiction from him.
Now, those points are moot. There will be no more fiction from DFW, and no more opportunities to say thank you. The world in general, and me in specific, have lost something very special this weekend.
So in lieu of those things lost, I encourage any of you reading this to crack open some DFW of your own. “Infinite Jest” can be a tough read for a first-timer, so let me suggest his essay “A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again.” Guaranteed you will laugh your ass off.
And to sign off, since I couldn’t do it in person, I’ll do it here. Thank you, DFW. What you wrote helped make me a better person. You will be missed.
