David Foster-Wallace, author of "Infinite Jest" and the best f_cking graduation speech I've ever had the pleasure to read a transcript of, passed away in September of 2008 after, apparently, committing suicide (why are the greatest minds often the most tortured?); which was a terrible loss to the literary community and just plain sad. However, that hasn't stopped The New Yorker from posthumously publishing a previously unprinted short story titled "All That" which you can read here: Click Me!
In true Wallace fashion the prose is eloquent and accessible and the subject matter (the power of "magic" in a child's mind) is something each and every one of us can relate to. I am saddened when I think of the works of genius the world will never get to read because of Mr. Wallace's untimely death, but I am more than willing to accept any future publications which will further illuminate the genius of this incredibly gifted man.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Posthumous David Foster Wallace Short Story
Labels:
All That,
David Foster Wallace,
New Yorker,
short story,
unpublished
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