I just found out via Daring Fireball that David Foster Wallace died on Friday night. He was only 46. DFW was one of those rare writers that could write volumes about any topic and make it interesting. From the NYT Obit:
David Foster Wallace, the author best known for his 1996 novel ”Infinite Jest,” was found dead in his home, according to police. He was 46.
Wallace’s wife found her husband had hanged himself when she returned home about 9:30 p.m. Friday, said Jackie Morales, a records clerk with the Claremont Police Department.
Metafilter has a thread where people are talking about DFW’s death. I don’t know what sort of anguish Wallace was going through, but it must have been really terrible for him to take his life. Condolences to his wife, who found him, and to his family.
Though I’ve read only two books and a few articles of DFW, his writing left a deep impression on me and he was a writer I truly admired. His sense of humour, his ability to tell stories, and the skill of his writing blew me away. Just like you admired Jordan hanging in the air and executing an impossible shot, DFW made you feel that way with his writing.
To know that he’ll never write again makes me very sad. Rest in peace DFW.
PS: DFW’s piece about Federer for the NY Times is a classic, if you’ve never read him.
— Edited to add —
A colleague and friend, John Seery, reminisces about DFW. Well written and moving.