The dark knight
Once hailed as the ‘Voice of Generation X’, David Foster Wallace hanged himself at the age of 46. Guy Adams reports from Los Angeles

For a writer who elevated irony to an art form, and whose infinite jesting co-existed with an all-too-apparent dark side, it felt grimly appropriate that David Foster Wallace should have chosen suicide as the means by which to end his own life story. The author, whose expansive novels, essays and short stories betrayed a mercurial talent and wicked sense of humour, might — in a different existence — have become one of the most influential literary voices of this, or any other generation.

But Wallace flattered to deceive. In a personal struggle worthy of one of the tortured characters in a novel by Don DeLillo, to whom he was often considered heir apparent, his adult life was constantly overshadowed by depression. For all his natural ability, and occasional brilliance, Wallace never lived-up to the fullness of his talent, or the haunting reach of his possibilities. After producing just two novels in a 21-year career, he was found dead at home in Claremont, a university town in eastern Los Angeles, in September.

A police spokesman said that his wife, Karen Green, had returned home to find that Wallace had apparently hanged himself. The novelist’s father, James Donald Wallace, said he had been heavily depressed for a number of months and "just couldn’t stand it any more"". He was 46.

To his many cult fans, Wallace was an author of unstoppable curiosity, imagination and ambition. His best work straddled the divide between ambitious literature and commercial fiction, and succeeded in chronicling, in darkly ironic terms, the complex direction of America at the end of the 20th century.

Wallace’s subjects ranged from tennis (he was a former child prodigy) and politics, to mathematics and cruise ships. In addition to his novels and short stories, he was an award-winning journalist, publishing dozens of essays and working for a selection of America’s influential titles, including Rolling Stone, The New Yorker and Esquire.

Earlier this summer, Wallace made headlines when he re-released an extraordinarily prescient profile of John McCain, which had been compiled in 2000, when he spent a week trailing the Republican Presidential candidate during his previous effort to get elected to the White House.

However, Wallace’s greatest contribution to the literary canon was his 1996 novel Infinite Jest, which was set in the near future (at a time called "the Year of the Depend Adult Undergarment"). Its title refers to a short film being sought by terrorists who are convinced that anyone who watches it will be debilitated, or even killed, by enjoyment.

Despite its cult following, Infinite Jest is not for the faint-hearted. It runs to 1,079 pages, and has more than 100 pages of footnotes, a trademark of Wallace’s work. He wrote in lengthy sentences, with exotic punctuation, in a manner that appealed to a devotedly highbrow audience. The New York Times summed up his style when it billed Wallace as the writer "whose prodigiously observant, exuberantly plotted, grammatically and etymologically challenging, philosophically probing and culturally hyper-contemporary novels, stories and essays made him an heir to modern virtuosos like Thomas Pynchon and Don DeLillo".

Wallace first achieved fame in 1987, with the debut novel, The Broom of the System, written while he studied creative writing at the University of Arizona. It was followed the following year by a collection of short stories, Girl with Curious Hair, which cemented his reputation as one of the most talented young writers of his age. A lifelong academic, who grew up in Illinois, where his parents worked at local universities, he worked in the English department at Illinois State University through much of the 1990s, before moving to Claremont in 2002, to become professor of English at Pomona University.

Wallace endured several stays in psychiatric hospitals from the late 1980s onwards. He once announced that his generation was full of people like himself: "Successful, obscenely well-educated, and sort of adrift." His emotional difficulties help explain, at least in part, his lack of productivity: Infinite Jest and The Broom of the System were the only novels he ever got around to publishing, though in recent years, he had managed two collections of short stories: Brief Interviews with Hideous Men (1999) and Oblivion (2004).

By arrangement with The Independent





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