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In early May, he sat down at a cafe with some graduating seniors from his fiction class. He answered their jittery, writer's-future questions. At the end, his voice went throaty, he choked up. Students assumed he was joking -- some smiled, a memory that would cut later. No medications had worked. In June, David tried to kill himself. Then he was back in the hospital. Doctors administered twelve courses of electroconvulsive therapy, a treatment that had always terrified David.
Franzen, worried, flew to spend a week with David in July. David had dropped seventy pounds in a year.
There was a look in his eyes: Still, he was fun to be with, even at ten percent strength. He was doing his usual line about, 'A dog's mouth is practically a disinfectant, it's so clean. Not like human saliva, dog saliva is marvelously germ- resistant. Six weeks later, David asked his parents to fly west. The Nardil wasn't working; the great risk with taking time off an antidepressant. A patient departs, returns, and the medication has boarded its doors.
He was afraid to leave the house. He asked, "What if I meet one of my students? It was just awful to see. If a student saw him, they would have put their arms around him and hugged him, I'm sure. The Wallaces stayed ten days. David and his parents would get up at six in the morning and walk the dogs. They watched DVDs, talked. Sally cooked David's favorite dishes, heavy comfort foods -- pot pies, casseroles, strawberries in cream. He just couldn't take it. One afternoon before they left, David was very upset.
His mother sat on the floor beside him. He said he was glad I was his mom. I told him it was an honor. In the middle of September, Karen left David alone with the dogs for a few hours. When she came home that night, he had hanged himself. I'm sure he kissed them on the mouth, and told them he was sorry.
Writers tend to have two great topics, on heavy internal rotation, a very abbreviated playlist. Their careers, their ailments. There's a famous story, about the party where James Joyce ran into Marcel Proust.
You expected heavyweight-champion banter. Joyce said, "My eyes are terrible. In fact, I must leave at once. For one thing, he never told anyone, beyond the tiniest audience, that he'd been diagnosed as a depressive. For another, he didn't much look the way you imagine a writer; he looked like a stoner, a burner. The writer Mark Costello was the best friend of the first part of David's adult life; the Illinois term David taught him, he said, was "dirt bomb.
David looked like someone who'd played a little varsity, then proceeded to too-cool his way off the squad. A big guy, with the bandanna and flop of hair, someone who was going to invite you to play Hacky Sack, and if you refused, there was a possibility he was going to beat you up. Which was on purpose. Just put pepperoni and mushrooms on my Tombstone. A take-out, grocery pizza sort of joke. Dave fishes out a Styrofoam cup after pawing through two wastebaskets, for someplace to put his chewing tobacco.
Is also drinking a Diet Pepsi. Office hours next week.
Bring light reading material, if you have to wait in the hallway. Offering Very Sensible advice. Lots of jobs for fiction, you have to keep track of twelve different things—characters, plot, sound, speed. But the job of the first eight pages is not to have the reader want to throw the book at the wall, during the first eight pages. He paces around the classroom. At one point, thinking, he even drops into a quick knee bend. Class laughs; they really like him. Dave on story, always using TV: Or When Harry Met Sally.
Another story he likes: To have the narrator be funny and smart, have him say funny, smart things some of the time. On the campus romance story. The key to writing is learning to differentiate private interest from public entertainment. Wait, you mean Wallace had no idea he would hang himself twelve years later? And that it's "heartbreaking" that his novel was set thereabouts? For a moment there I almost came to my own conclusions and responses.
Also, starting with a chess game between the two of them and then continuing to note how "competitive" Wallace is in correcting quotes and generally one-upping him--you know, like a continuation of the chess game! This is not Updike swinging by Roth's place to chat about craft and Vineyard barbecues.
It is a journalist overstepping his bounds and, to address my worst fear, perhaps using this as a chance to promote his own literary voice, even subconsciously. The slapdash cover why a plane when the title has the words "road trip" in it? Why put DFW's name in huge print everywhere? Why does the public seem to want famous writers to suffer and be happy? And when talking about the pure process of writing IJ--the sheer physical task of it--I was riveted. Would that the interviewer trusted us to inflect our own doubt and happiness where we find it in the sprawl of the conversation, rather than where he demands it.
Jun 07, Mark rated it really liked it Shelves: This page interview reads like a transcript of the best conversation you've ever had in your life, with the most interesting, erudite, and cleverest person you've ever known. It made me want to go back in time to my college years and seek out the people I knew then who used to set my brain on fire with our 2 a.
Above all, this book made me wish that I still had friends like that in my life and, perhap This page interview reads like a transcript of the best conversation you've ever had in your life, with the most interesting, erudite, and cleverest person you've ever known. Above all, this book made me wish that I still had friends like that in my life and, perhaps more importantly, that I had the faculty to engage in such a deep conversation these days. It also reminded me of one of my favorite movies, My Dinner with Andre which Lipsky himself references in the book.
It seems hanging out with David Foster Wallace might have had the capacity for altering your mindset. Though, ironically enough, as I learned in this book, I would never have had the opportunity to do so as one of his many fans, since Wallace was incredibly uncomfortable interacting with his readers on a personal level.
As, indeed, most writers probably are--they just don't admit it. I suppose it goes without saying that reading the book is also incredibly sad. But it's worth it, and though I wish I'd read the book with a pencil so that I could call attention to the lines that really lit up my brain like in the old days, in a way I'm happy that, to reexperience those lines I'll need to reread the book--and that's something I look forward to even one day after having finished it. Particularly since it took only one sitting for me to plow through the first pages of the interview. As moved as I was by the contents of this book not to mention how choked up I got by the section in Lipsky's afterword that describes one of Wallace's final interactions with his mother , I would say it's primarily for Wallace fans, not for someone who has never read any of Wallace's work be it fiction or nonfiction.
But then again, there's no one who shouldn't be a fan of Wallace's work.
You can find an index of the book here: Mar 23, Lee rated it really liked it. DFW is maybe in the process of achieving literary sainthood, so this transcript is like a textual shroud of Turin. The open rawness of watching DFW "wrestle with burly psychic self-consciousness figures" and talk in "crazy circles" lets you spend some serious time with the three-dimensional writer saint himself. It's an invaluable document about his thoughts on Infinite Jest , how it got written, published, and publicized, his reaction to its reception, etc.
Sometimes it started to feel like a long therapy session, not in a bad way -- I was struck by how often he used words like "fear" and "afraid" and "terror" when talking about pop culture and media. Interestingly, at one point he presages Obama's speeches about taking responsibility, which reminded me that he died a few days after the announcement of Sarah Palin as McCain's running mate -- I'd linked the two immediately, not really knowing the extent of his "cancer of the soul.
Anyway, after a point I couldn't stop reading -- I welcome all further artifacts of this peculiarly infectious, enlivening, really really really intelligent, compassionate consciousness. Nov 09, Steve rated it really liked it. Oh how we enjoy glimpsing beautiful minds. Lipsky presents the mostly likable genius in a mostly interesting way. I have to admit, though, that I was probably looking too hard for signs of the tragic loss that was to come. I read the Afterword last, despite its placement at the beginning, and I think it was better to do it that way. It discussed the years after the interview, especially Oh how we enjoy glimpsing beautiful minds.
It discussed the years after the interview, especially his last one, in enlightening detail. May 20, unnarrator rated it really liked it. Sure, you were sometimes kind of a jerk, Lipsky, with your relentless, page-after-PAGE obsession with getting Dave to admit that he was revelling in his slender post-IJ fame I really needed them, today. So thanks again, for that—and for having grown up quite a bit in between interview and publication, so that you could wryly perceive and admit to us that a he was mostly yanking you Sure, you were sometimes kind of a jerk, Lipsky, with your relentless, page-after-PAGE obsession with getting Dave to admit that he was revelling in his slender post-IJ fame So thanks again, for that—and for having grown up quite a bit in between interview and publication, so that you could wryly perceive and admit to us that a he was mostly yanking your chain, and b your impressions of him were more about you than about him, about his reality.
Which is true for all of us when it comes to Wallace, right? Nothing extraordinary, really; just another artist done in by the weight of our projections. Still how thankful I was today for even the fantasy of his ephemeral literary companionship. And for his humanity. Jun 07, M. Sarki rated it it was ok. Not nearly as good as I originally gave it credit as being on my first read.
I could sit and listen to him just talk, about his bandannas, This books reads like one of the best conversations you've ever had. He just couldn't take it. And they want somehow to acknowledge it. View all 14 comments. Because I mean, I don't think we ever change.
I believe I was too emotionally involved back then and my love affair with all things Wallace clouded my judgment. After watching the film based on this book, and the horrid and pathetic character David Lipsky was portrayed as, I could not read a page without seeing this person and making me sick to my stomach. I think the interview actually sucked now, and just the opportunity back when the book first came out for me t Not nearly as good as I originally gave it credit as being on my first read. I think the interview actually sucked now, and just the opportunity back when the book first came out for me to reconnect with DFW another time sent me soaring with love and devotion.
I am not so enamored anymore. My apologies to anyone who actually cared. Mar 23, Dan rated it it was amazing. In King's universe, a Gunslinger was a kind of "walking justice" that roamed the worlds trying to keep order where disorder reigned. These men were by no means sages or smiling monks. They were filled with a sense of right and wrong in the world that made them lethal when they needed to be. But it was their knowledge, their ability to understand others around them, that made them best suited for their jo One of Stephen King's greatest characters ever, Roland Deschain of Gilead, was a Gunslinger.
But it was their knowledge, their ability to understand others around them, that made them best suited for their jobs. He just did it with words rather than bullets. I thoroughly enjoy DFW's work because it is so deep, so funny, and filled with moments where you say to yourself, "I know the exact feeling from which that passage sprang.
Reading the transcript of his interviews with David Lipsky makes you feel happy to be a human being, and happy that there are other people out there who feel compassionate about the written word. Wallace was one of those rare men who could be hilarious one moment and genius the next. He proves that simply because something is complex does not mean we should shun it; we should embrace it because we will learn more about ourselves when we do.
To understand him more, read the book. There are many moments when I am reading that I wish he were still alive. Innanzitutto, l'arte la possiamo definire un un dialogo tra anime e i libri, in particolare, servono a farci sentire meno soli. Jul 05, Courtney rated it did not like it Shelves: My primary issue with this book has to do with David Lipsky and the manner in which he frames his "road trip" with David Foster Wallace.
DFW's comments can be refreshing at times, but they are overshadowed by Lipsky's relentless preoccupation with DFW's fame and past addictions. This keeps the narrative from progressing and limits it to a repetitive repertoire. Additionally, Lipsky's use of bracketed commentary comes across as an intrusive attempt at interpreting DFW's statements for the reader. In a way, this bothers me because it reflects Lipsky's opportunistic appropriation of DFW in order to enhance his own reputation as a writer and journalist.
This book depressed me because I believe it represents the worst of the already despicable class of writing and fanfare designed to exploit a deceased writer's iconic status for personal gain and profit. Apr 22, Adam Floridia rated it it was ok. I really, um, like enjoyed.
As he saw them. I didn't [dudn't] care for David's [Lipsky] presentation of the uh interview.
In which he like just seems to have really really transcribed the tapes. This means he um uh um recorded all of the--hey lay down [talking to my dog]--anyway. All the hedgers and ya know are like in the book. Plus the--I said lay down--the context is almo I really, um, like enjoyed. Plus the--I said lay down--the context is almost totally like. Well there's like no context given. Apr 22, Joseph rated it did not like it Shelves: I hate this author; this may be one of the worst books that I've ever come across.
I really like listening to DFW, but somehow the author is able to make the book about himself. This is one of those books that you are embarrassed to have on the shelf. May 15, Carrie brightbeautifulthings rated it liked it Shelves: Part of me worries that I waited too long to come back to it, but the rest of me thinks I needed that space. The book is creating more hype than anyone expected, throwing Wallace abruptly into the spotlight. Lipsky meets Wallace at his house in Bloomington, Illinois and travels with him to Minneapolis and back for his last reading. While the Rolling Stone article was never published, this is a transcript of the audiotapes from their time together as two writers discuss everything from fame to fiction.
What am I supposed to talk about in my reviews if not the structure?! Why call it an afterword when it comes at the beginning? The title seems like a throwaway line if Wallace can ever be said to have those , and I have trouble applying it to the book except in the most maudlin sense. The rest of the book is, predictably, a very long and meandering conversation between two intellectuals. It hamstrings pretty much all the emotional impact of the book. Call me churlish, but I did not appreciate his attempts to mediate the conversation.
He seems determined to keep up with Wallace on an intellectual level, which is impossible. The man got an award for being an actual genius; why even try? His asides also have the occasional obnoxious observation about Midwesterners or women, which struck me as completely unnecessary. Dude, your sexism is showing.
I review regularly at brightbeautifulthings. Nov 01, Scott Rhee rated it really liked it Shelves: What not everyone has the luxury to do. Lipsky had intended to write a full-length cover feature for Rolling Stone , the magazine for which he was working at the time. It never actually appeared, which for the shy, new-to-fame anti-celebrity Wallace was probably for the best. Several years, a few more books, a marriage, and a long-fought battle with severe depression later, Wallace committed suicide by hanging himself in his living room one day in September The book is exactly what one would expect from a road trip interview with Wallace: There is no doubt that Wallace was a genius, literary or otherwise.
The farthest I have ever read in the book was about pages before I was utterly stymied. It is a book which captivates and infuriates in equal measure. The writing is clearly beautiful, but the book is so dense with information and written in such a bizarrely experimental fashion that, at times, it is almost unreadable.
I have heard some people say that they did not have a problem reading the book at all. I hate these people. It is always working, always processing, always thinking, always on. As someone who has dealt with clinical depression although admittedly nowhere near the level of Wallace , I can relate to that feeling. For me, though, it was manageable, and it was never something that lasted long periods of time. I have lived most of my life in periods of clarity. I think, for Wallace, his experience was the opposite.
His struggle was a life-long one, and, in the end, his depression beat him. He wrote the entire interview verbatim with limited editorializing. He just lets Wallace talk, and Wallace was a great talker.
One of the things that Wallace was great at doing, in his writing, was extrapolation. Wallace saw the writing on the wall. He foresaw the coming of social media like Facebook and Twitter; a nation of people staring into glowing screens, believing that they are connecting to the world when in reality they are more alone than ever. He imagined a world in which real Art was dead, supplanted by dime-store entertainment that offered no substance or lasting value. And while Wallace could not have foreseen the election year or its candidates, he nevertheless eerily predicted a scenario in which a Donald Trump presidency was a possibility: Sep 27, Schuyler rated it really liked it Shelves: I am a huge DFW fan, so, ya know, there was very little chance I wasn't going to like this "book".
I say "book" because it's not really a book in the traditional sense, more just a page interview with David Foster Wallace during the last leg of his Infinite Jest book tour in A lot of what DFW talks about, as far as certain ideas about television, technology, entertainment, addiction, America, etc, I'd already read in other interviews the best interview I've read with i Full Disclosure: A lot of what DFW talks about, as far as certain ideas about television, technology, entertainment, addiction, America, etc, I'd already read in other interviews the best interview I've read with is with Dalkey Archive Press , though the things DFW had to say in this interview were still very awesome.
What DFW fans will find most enjoyable, as I did anyway, is just the little things that are revealed. His odd soda drinking habit 12 cans a day , his musical tastes infatuated with Alanis Morissette Of course, the book is also incredibly sad but also laugh out loud funny The book tour and all the attention is plainly painful for him most of the time because he acknowledges that all the press he's getting such as this Rolling Stone writer following him around for five days is more about all the hype and attention he's getting than it is about Infinite Jest.
Because at that point, as DFW points out several times, there's just no way that most of these people could have even read and digested the book. Like the book tour literally started the day after publication. So if you've read any of DFW's nonfiction stuff, you can imagine how he would react to massive amounts of attention and praise Another thing that struck me was just the kind of frenzy the publishing and reading world got itself into over Infinite Jest and DFW.
I was maybe 12 or 13 when Infinite Jest was published, living in Small Town New Hampshire so of course I have no recollection of any of it, it wasn't even close to being on my radar. But what Lipsky keeps pointing out to Wallace is that all this attention and adulation was unprecedented, especially for a writer as young as he was 34 at the time. To create this masterpiece at that age just blows me away. And to think about the stuff that was probably being written around that time, and the kind of art that was around It just seems that much crazier. I read Infinite Jest in I can't imagine what it must have been like to read it in Ok, I'm just rambling now.
And who don't believe in politics, and don't believe in religion. And believe that civic movements or political activism are either a farce or some way to get power for the people who are in control of it. Who don't believe in anything. Who know fantastic reasons not to believe in stuff, and are terrific ironists and pokers of holes. And there's nothing wrong with that, it's just, it doesn't seem to me that there's just a whole lot else. And it's why like, my dream would be for you to write this up, and then to send it to me, and I get to rewrite all my quotes to you I know that I'm a lot more talented alone, when I've got time, than I am in the back and forth of this.
And expectations of ourselves are a very fine line. Because up to a certain point, they can be motivating, and inspiring, and can be kind of a flame thrower held to our ass, get us moving. And past that point they're toxic and paralyzing. Mar 15, Leo Robertson rated it it was amazing Shelves: Filled with quotability but my absolute favourite thing about this is that a guy at an Infinite Jest signing asked Wallace if he wrote poetry. And so was born the inevitable pastiche of Wallace there's no more fun author to do it with writing a poem. Here is one attempt found amongst his notes- the quintessential encapsulation of American culture, "Darling Buds".
Would you mind, like get your Knickers In A good 'ol Twist if I did the increasingly crass and pretentious and somehow difficultl Filled with quotability but my absolute favourite thing about this is that a guy at an Infinite Jest signing asked Wallace if he wrote poetry. Would you mind, like get your Knickers In A good 'ol Twist if I did the increasingly crass and pretentious and somehow difficultly aphasiac act of making the overdone comparison between yrself and a circum-solstitial circadian event?
But it's this can you really get to grips with the bellicosity and climatially superior nature of you, that's right the individual and all-encompassing tragic fragility of yrself.