Heralded as one of the greatest American writers of the last 50 years, David Foster Wallace whetted readers' obsessions with his knack for pinpointing absurdities in the Megatron of modern society with photographic precision and wit, but left a legacy shadowed by his lifelong struggle with depression. I have been meaning to read more of his writing since I first encountered the heartfelt commencement speech he gave at Kenyon College, This is Water, a few years before he died from apparent suicide.
Do lobsters feel pain? Did Franz Kafka have a funny bone? What is John Updike's deal, anyway? And what happens when adult video starlets meet their fans in person? David Foster Wallace answers these questions and more in essays that are also enthralling narrative adventures. Whether covering the three-ring circus of a vicious presidential race, plunging into the wars between dictionary writers, or confronting the World's Largest Lobster Cooker at the annual Maine Lobster Festival, Wallace projects a quality of thought that is uniquely his and a voice as powerful and distinct as any in American letters.
Contains: "Big Red Son," "Certainly the End of Something or Other, One Would Sort of Have to Think," "Some Remarks on Kafka's Funniness from Which Probably Not Enough Has Been Removed," "Authority and American Usage," "The View from Mrs. Thompson's," "How Tracy Austin Broke My Heart," "Up, Simba," "Consider the Lobster," "Joseph Frank's Dostoevsky" and "Host."