Author David Foster Wallace, 46, was found dead at his home last Friday night. Wallace reportedly committed suicide. Here is one summary of his work from the New York Times:
"David Foster Wallace used his prodigious gifts as a writer — his manic, exuberant prose; his ferocious powers of observation, his ability to fuse avant garde techniques with old-fashioned moral seriousness — to create a series of strobe-lit portraits of a millennial America overdosing on the drugs of entertainment and self-gratification, and to capture, in the words of the musician Robert Plant, the myriad “deep and meaningless” facets of contemporary life."
The only work by Mr. Wallace that I've read is a collection of essays in Consider the Lobster. I enjoyed the book (even with its extensive use of footnotes).
It's a sad end to the life of Mr. Wallace, who was successful in a difficult field.
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