"Winter here is a pitiless bitch," was how David Foster Wallace once described his native Midwest, though to borrow a phrase from his favorite Shakespeare play he might as well have been referring to this mortal coil. Forget about the footnotes. And never mind the Latin abbreviations, the hyperventilating run-ons, the tongue-in-cheek upscale diction, or the pleasure he took in issuing a well deserved [sic]. Because the typical David Foster Wallace sentence was grounded in ordinary American speech, that untidy shorthand we use when we talk to each other. And that's why, apropos of Wallace's suicide last Friday at age 46, the late author himself... More >>>