Interesting. I confess he flew under my radar as well, but that might be meaningless, as many do.

As I was reading about him, I was reminded of the comment concerning Updike: minor novelist with a major style.

What did Wallace ever do in real life that would make him have any insight into anything? Depressions, drugs, alcohol, rehab. What else? It's like he wanted to create redemption through literature without ever living it first. You got to get off your ass and do something for other people. Maybe, because of his demons, he couldn't. And that is sad. He couldn't create the thing he longed to, because he wasn't the person he longed to be.

His quest is worthy, but I am unable to judge whether he achieved any part of his quest.

You can't be serious. I'm now interested to hear what you think an author must do in order to gain the requisite "insight." Did Dickinson do enough baking bread and staying indoors to gain the requisite insight?

You don't understand how authors gain the important insight, and it has very little to do with "do in real life." Sure, Conrad could write about seafaring because he got off his arse and lived on the sea. But do you think his sea knowledge is the important insight? Were his very interesting travels into the heart of Africa the source of his insight? Hell no. They were props. His insight came from inside, as it does for all authors. You could have taken the same trip into the Congo, and gained nothing but physical stimulation from the surroundings. Conrad gained insight into the human heart. It doesn't take "real life" experiences (whatever that is) to gain insights into the human heart. It takes self-reflection, sensitivity, perceptivity, and courage.

You're selling the likes of Flanner O'Connor and Emily Dickinson down the river. Foolishness.

Are you gaining the type of "real life" experiences that bring insight -- the doing for others? I'd take one paragraph of Wallace's non-fiction on anything -- on the damn wallpaper in his living room -- over a hundred pages of your complaining about camping with scouts.

I'm honest enough to admit that I like the taste of a lobster more than I will ever care about it's sense of pain.

That said, I prefer to grill a lobster than boil it.

Before I start laying down suppressive fire, just to play with you, in preparation of the kill shot to your forehead, please tell me one thing: did you read The New Yorker article?

No; didn't have to. The silliness of your argument -- that DFW didn't have enough "real life" to have any insight into anything, or be the novelist he wanted to be -- is ignorant stuff and speaks (sadly) for itself.

Your MO doesn't work anymore, Mikey. You have no basis to support your statement, and so you get cute with your gun talk. Point the gun at my forehead -- all you've got are blanks (which may explain your crazy dependency on guns).

By the way, if you want to leave the funny gun talk and engage in the issue, what "real life" experiences are you talking about that are required to have any real insight into anything? TIA for the oncoming babble.

Literature is as much about the life of the mind and heart as it is about taking Boy Scouts on camping trips and thereby gaining the necessary insight into life. That's why a cultivator of peahens could write "A Good Man is Hard to Find," and a reclusive New England poet could write all that she did.

exactly what I thought. You didn't read the article and therefore are not familiar with the author's arguments about why Wallace was unable to complete his novel, which I touch on myself. STFU.

You don't like me or don't like it here, hit the fucking road. Perhaps you have a female colleague you can make cry. Your games bore me.

I actually have much to say about Wallace, but the idea of you reading what I am thinking just bothers me so much that I can't bear it. I will have to continue my thoughts in private places that you are not privy to.

What bores me is to read people like you who think the only relevant experience is their own. Really, DFW didn't have enough real life experience to have any insight into anything? It's freaking LOL entertaining, however, to watch you slink away into your hidden regions to play your fiddle for people willing to listen to such crap. The person who is praised for the groundbreaking finding that meth is bad for teenagers is criticizing DFW for not having enough real world experience? LOL. You can't defend it, so you run away to your treehouse.

By the way, Mike, you can try again and say DFW had plenty of real life experiences to have insight into many things, but he couldn't pull off the redemptive novel because he simply didn't have it in him. And maybe you are right that the reason he didn't have it in him was because of his depression. And I agree with you, if that's the case, that is sad. But I don't think that's the case. I just think there are few artists born with the ability to write the redemptive piece of art that changes in a fundamental way how the reader lives as a moral human being thereafter. But DFW was a good enough writer (especially in his non-fiction) to provide plenty of insight into plenty of things. You're simply jealous -- like I am.