Reckoning, Mourning and Loss

This weekend, most of the country watched as Houston and the Gulf Coast got battered by Hurricane Ike. We were pounded by waves upon waves, rain that came at us at every angle, and wind that sheared off roofs, signs and houses. Electricity is still out in many places, running water only recently restored, and most businesses are closed due to lack of supplies, power and people.

On Monday, when I was finally able to get online and check in with the world, I was hit with another devastating blow: David Foster Wallace died Friday.

David Foster Wallace was by many accounts a modern genius (he received a MacArthur Foundation "genius" grant in 1997). Along with Dave Eggers, Wallace was considered a forerunner of the postmodern literary movement. His novel, INFINITE JEST, topping out at over 1,000 pages and as many footnotes, is considered by many to be one of the best books of the century.

I learned about Wallace many years ago with his collection of fictional interviews, BRIEF INTERVIEWS WITH HIDEOUS MEN. But I didn't start reading him until his essay collection, A SUPPOSEDLY FUN THING I'LL NEVER DO AGAIN. This is how I learned more about the postmodern short story. I have expressed here how much I don't care for the postmodern movement, with the nonending ending and rambling plotlines. However, with Wallace, the writing was just too good to ignore. It was so good that I think that where my dislike for the way the stories ended came from - I wanted more, not these small, tantalizing bites of genius.

Wallace was more introverted than most authors, never really seeking out or seeming to enjoy the massive notoriety he received. Many of his books and novels were emotional, from the sublimely silly to the darkest of depressions. He wrote about America, but he also wrote to me and my view of the world.

He will be missed not only by me, but also by the schools he spoke at, the literary industry and the world at large.

I am in here and sad.

Nicole