I’ve watched a few interviews with David Foster Wallace recently. A number of times, I rewound a bit and listened carefully to what he said.
What am I missing? Don’t mean to speak ill of the dead, but was this for real? I tried to read Infinite Jest (twice). I didn’t quite chuck it across the room, but it is one of those books that, once put down, seems unpickupable.
Is there genius in the blather? Does the headscarf add some magic? Is the work blessed by the suicide? I’ve read a lot of Brautigan, and though I found him very uneven, there were characteristics about his writing (now forgotten, alas) that made me think there was a real writer at work. DFW seems to me to have been a poseur, or even a poser.
Anybody got more enlightened thoughts than mine?