what hasn't been said

Over the past few days I have read quite a bit about a truly wonderful writer, David Foster Wallace, and his unfortunate death. There really is not much I can add to all that is out there concerning David Foster Wallace… but since the spine of one his books is hiding up there in the madness abides bookshelf picture (which is an actual picture from one of my bookshelves) I figure a word or two would not be amiss.

I discovered Wallace’s writing in college and was instantly attracted to it - not only was Infinite Jest “the” book to read for a wannabe modern literature snob (and I was every bit of a wannabe as I could be), but it was a book that had the ability to speak to me, move me, make me laugh and think - a book to get lost in. His other works were all pretty damn great as well - I cannot count the amount of times I have recommended Oblivion to anyone who would listen. And more than just his writing, he was of “my” generation (or close enough) and, from the publicity photos, had that certain intellectual stoner look I had been striving to cultivate in myself for some time… simply put, he could write like a virtuoso wordsmith, yet seemed like a guy to hang out with.

My wife broke the news of his passing, and manner of death, to me on Saturday from a news article she saw online, and since then I have been thinking of the time I spent with his words as company… good times. I wish him a safe journey on into the unknown and hope he finds peace there.

I was hoping I would come up with some profound insight in the writing of this, but it is not to be… “I enjoyed your words and your books will always have a place on my shelf” is about the best I can do.

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Fiction's about what it is to be a human being. ~David Foster Wallace