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September 13, 2008

DAVID FOSTER WALLACE DEAD AT 46

We logged on for our first email check in Amsterdam to discover a slew of emails regarding the suicide of David Foster Wallace.  Whatever our opinion of his work might have been, this is shocking, tragic news and we're genuinely saddened by the loss.  Terrible, terrible news.  (The Los Angeles Times obituary is here.)

His appearance on the Charlie Rose show:

Posted by TEV at 11:21 PM in Obit |

Comments

The last thing he says is just shattering. He was such an exquisite writer and beyond the obvious tragic personal dimensions it's terrible that his voice is gone, and too goddamn soon.

Posted by: Bee | September 14, 2008 at 06:12 AM

i found this blog yesterday when i was trying to find out anything about this suicide. i'm glad to have found it and get the sense i could spend many happy hours reading here. most of what i've read thus far are comments posted about foster wallace 4 or so years ago. i got them by googling "david foster wallace obit"- this site's was the first link to come up for some reason. that may have changed by now. i think foster wallace was clearly frustrated, and i found his writing absolutely frustrating. he was so clearly brilliant yet his writing was lazy at times. i always thought of him as someone who had things come to him too easily and didn't develop a good enough work ethic. i know this is a strange thing to say about someone who was at one point a hard working athlete and then later a publishing writer - two occupations that demand rigor and strength. i am saying this because i am not 100% surprised to hear he killed himself, and because i am not 100% surprised i find the death even more tragic. i know suicide is often the result of brain chemicals gone awry, but there may have been even more too it (not that the brain chemical thing isn't tragic enough). he may have just been too smart and too frustrated. it seems that many substance abusers go that route because their brains are too acute to take this chaotic, unreasonable world. what do we do about these people? i don't want them to get lost in the drug/drinking muddle and i don't want them to kill themselves. is there another answer? am i reading too much into his suicide? like bee in the post above said- he had carved out his own irreplaceable voice. now it is gone, and i'm sure there was - i mean OF COURSE there was another way. and his wife and his parents.........? it is just too sad for words.

Posted by: kate | September 14, 2008 at 11:48 AM

WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY?

silly, selfish, coward? or too-smart guy with a chemical imbalance?

geez, this sucks.

Posted by: I don't know why. | September 14, 2008 at 01:48 PM

I was not familiar with Wallace's work save for several short stories (e.g., Girl with Curious Hair). I thought the guy was talented, and this is a tragic loss. Several reviews of James Wood's "How Fiction Works" mentioned David Foster Wallace as the "aesthetic villain" of the work. This is definitely a stretch, but I wonder if that had anything to do with this. Having one's prose singled out as the epitome of boredom by a respected critic must have stung.

Posted by: Gerry | September 14, 2008 at 07:22 PM

I'm sorry Mark.

When I read the words, "I know suicide is [the result of, caused by, or variants of those phrases] . . .", I find myself, perturbed - exceptionally so. Such ignorance is unfathomable. There is no way to know. Many people who commit suicide don't know. However, I am willing to bet, all in, on one thing. Pain. Pain is the thread. Pain like you wouldn't believe. We live in our own machines, alone. You nor I nor anybody else can know, truly know, the pain such as that of Mr. Wallace. When I tried to kill myself, I was in some serious, fucking, pain. At that moment, it didn't matter why. What mattered was, that I was and wished to be not so.

I suggest you turn your thoughts of Mr. Wallace towards a different direction. Mourn his death. Celebrate his life. Piss on his books. He's gone. His family will suffer. Don't try to answer why - you, can, not.

Again Mark, I'm sorry. I hope you understand.

Posted by: C- | September 14, 2008 at 10:26 PM

I'm sorry Mark.

When I read the words, "I know suicide is [the result of, caused by, or variants of those phrases] . . .", I find myself, perturbed - exceptionally so. Such ignorance is unfathomable. There is no way to know. Many people who commit suicide don't know. However, I am willing to bet, all in, on one thing. Pain. Pain is the thread. Pain like you wouldn't believe. We live in our own machines, alone. You nor I nor anybody else can know, truly know, the pain such as that of Mr. Wallace. When I tried to kill myself, I was in some serious, fucking, pain. At that moment, it didn't matter why. What mattered was, that I was and wished to be not so.

I suggest we turn our thoughts of Mr. Wallace towards a different direction. Mourn his death. Celebrate his life. Piss on his books. He's gone. His family will suffer. Don't try to answer why - you, can, not.

Again Mark, I'm sorry. I hope you understand.

Posted by: C- | September 14, 2008 at 10:28 PM

This New Yorker story ( http://www.newyorker.com/fiction/features/2007/02/05/070205fi_fiction_wallace ) of his from last year should have or should in the future silence any critics or readers who doubt his talent for language, James Wood included. Not to mention his extraordinary empathy for his characters and his great moral sense.

Posted by: Stephen | September 15, 2008 at 12:34 PM

thank you for posting that story.

Posted by: kate | September 15, 2008 at 04:50 PM

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