Friday, October 3, 2008

David Foster Wallace Has Deprived Me Of Sleep For At Least 2 Nights And I Didn't Read His Work Before Now

On Wednesday, I listened to the first interview. I was doing mind numbing stuff at work and I found a snippet of Terry Gross' interview w/ Wallace. I'd never given his work more than a glance (maybe I was jealous of The Believer's fanboyishness) but I stopped in for the pre-recorded NPR interview. The interview was only a snippet, mind you, and as soon as it got cut off, I struggled to fulfill an immediate need to hear David Foster Wallace's voice. I watch/listened to the Charlie Rose interview. I watch/listened to an interview he did in Italy. Then I bought an ebook version of Consider The Lobster. He had one of the most calm voices I've ever experienced.

The first thing I noticed about Wallace was his sincerity, which is something my generation hates. My generation constantly endeavors to reach some kind of sad consensus about everything. We have unplanned existential crises that we talk about the next day via Twitter or iChat. We are a very fucking sad bunch of people.

But as sad as we are, we make up for it in our mean motherfuckering. We straight up don't like earnest or sincere people. We hold it against them, somehow. My generation goes out of its way to let you know you are being too sentimental. Get with the program, fucker. We take earnestness to task as we swig PBR, um, ironically. We blaze no paths. We only yell a little bit inside of ourselves. We talk about politics behind electronic walls. None of us will ever throw a brick.

Maybe if some of us could act a little bit more. Maybe if some of us could fuck the supercynics to death. Maybe if some of us could hang our inner critics from a flag pole. Maybe if supercynics did not hold sway in the literary world, David Foster Wallace might still be okay.

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