I find it disconcerting when people sing David Foster Wallace's praises. It makes me question their genuineness. As far as I'm concerned the DFW train is full of ticket-less squatters--supposed fans who base their "love" for DFW on one book, maybe even on the movie version of that other one book directed by that one dude from the Office, you know, the one who got married, no no not that one, the other one... Just google it.
I'm sorry, but the fact that you committed suicide, David--if I may call you David?--does not make me anymore likely to read your literature. The sadism within the book-reading community that attracts readers to authors who've killed themselves disturbs me.
Now that that's out of the way, I would like you to know that I thoroughly enjoyed reading your short story "Incarnations of Burned Children." It was pretty cool (pun intended).
No comments:
Post a Comment