Holy fucking shit. David Foster Wallace committed suicide last night. He was 46 years old.
I can’t believe this.
I adored his writing. Infinite Jest is one of the most amazing novels I’ve ever read.
More links about his death here. Here’s his Wikipedia page.
I’ve written about him several times.
I’ve never read any of his work (I’m uncomfortable with writers hailed as geniuses during their lifetimes) but this event actually suggests he had real talent. All the truly great writers have been severely mentally ill. I’ll have to give Infinite Jest a try now.
Perhaps he’ll become the next Hemmingway.
he was my teacher at isu. he was strange, flawed, and very prodigious, both as a teacher and as a writer. this horrific news came as no surprise to me. his eyes were well-lined by tragedy even then, in 1997. one website reported that he had undergone electroconvulsive shock therapy earlier this year. lifelong depression is a state of exponentially increasing desperation. whatever peace there is to be had, i hope he now has it.