I’m so bummed to see that one of my favorite non-fiction writers ever, David Foster Wallace, died this past weekend, at age 46. Suicide. I’m kind of at a loss for words.
He wrote novels as well, obviously, but his essays with their zillion hilarious footnotes always stuck with me since first beginning to study creative non-fic years ago. A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again should be on your Must Read Someday list, if you haven’t yet. Both the book and the essay itself are utterly fantastic.
Sigh.
