Anything I think to say about David Foster Wallace seems trite or somehow undeferential to the talent he possessed as a writer. I cannot think of anyone who has written more precisely, cogently, ironically, humorously, empathetically on the human condition, the zeitgeist of America, or the peerings inside the soul. Inimitable doesn't cut it. Genius perhaps.
It's a bummer day.
For an incredible interview with Charlie Rose several years ago, click here. The ending is a little haunting.
Here is a nice tribute by A.O. Scott of the NY Times.
And one more
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