I did not know that he was dead.
Posted by mofembot Sun, 24 May 2009 10:39:00 GMT
As it was on his List of Gift Suggestions, and as I am more and more incapable of coming up with decent presents that I think up all by myself, I bought Consider the Lobster for Mr Mo for Christmas. I just finished reading it last week, so when dirkster42 cheered books in a comment in Cheers & Jeers the other day, I sprang in and chirruped my satisfaction to the world (as it were):
Just finished David Foster Wallace’s Consider the Lobster. His review on the American usage book was utterly brilliant and amazingly funny. – In fact, all the essays were, though I (who still struggle with prudishness because of my conservative Mormon upbringing) thought it would have been better not to have put Red Son as the first entry. (It’s about the Porn Industry’s Academy Awards, and is, um… gosh. Blush. Titter. Swoon.)
But then someone asked a question in response to my comment, and I googled for the answer… which is when I (re)discovered that David Foster Wallace, this incredible writer, one of the very best writers I have ever read, had killed himself last September after losing a lifelong struggle against depression.
When I expressed my profound dismay, Mr Mo asked if I’d been “under a rock” to have been unaware of Wallace’s death. Well, the answer is no: I did in fact vaguely recall seeing some tributes on DKos and elsewhere when he died last year. But, see, until now I hadn’t really read his work, hadn’t until now made any connection as a fellow SNOOT,* hadn’t had any reason to know why his death (among so many deaths) represented such an enormous loss for the literary world (and also for the world at large: his was a truly moral and honest voice).
Even at this late date, some 8 months later, learning anew via Rolling Stone of his death now that I know him… hit me viscerally and hard, not the least reason being that depression was his killer, and I do indeed understand depression so deep and malignant that it draws death closer.
As I seek out more of his work to read, I know I will finish each story, each book, each essay with tears in my eyes, no matter how hard I will laugh and how delighted I will be at his deft use of language as I am reading: I was lucky, very lucky, and David Foster Wallace was not, and the world is much poorer for his passing.
*”SNOOT” is Wallace’s acronymic term for people who deeply, genuinely, and anal-retentively care about correct and effective language use, per his essay “Authority and American Usage” in Consider the Lobster. If you want to know what SNOOT stands for, I encourage you to read the essay.
(Cross-posted at DailyKos.)