Over the weekend I had a mostly wonderful time doing something I would rather not have been doing: commemorating the life and work of David Foster Wallace, who took his own life last September. Dave was the fiction editor of the University of Arizona-affiliated literary review Sonora Journal while he achieved his MFA at that school, and the current editor of the SR, Michael Sheehan, invited a group of writers and friends to mark the publication of the new double issue of the Journal, which features a 100-page tribute to Wallace that includes a remembrance by myself, some really wonderful essays and interviews, and a previously unpublished short story by the man himself. You can order a copy here; I think it’s an essential volume for anyone who cares about Wallace’s work.
That’s Michael above, introducing the panel for Friday evening’s readings. Our panel was terrific: Bonnie Nadell, Dave’s agent and friend; writer and academic Marshall Boswell, co-author of Understanding David Foster Wallace; academic Greg Carlisle, author of Elegant Complexity: A Study of David Foster Wallace’s “Infinite Jest;” Charles Bock, author of Beautiful Children; Ken Kalfus, author of A Disorder Peculiar to the Country and more (Dave published several of Ken’s stories in the Sonora Journal), and myself. I learned an awful lot at the afternoon panels; Marshall addressed Dave’s early work, making a powerful case that it deserves as much attention and praise as Jest and its subsequent books have garnered; Greg read from his ingenious study, which proves, pace quite a few people, including that utter idiot Katie Roiphe, that Jest does have an ending, and a brilliant one at that; Ken and Charles discussed Dave’s influence, his inimitable voice, and where they thought the work was going; Bonnie of course had wonderful reminiscences and read a letter she got from Dave in the early days, when the rejection slips were piling up, as a way of heartening the many aspiring young writers in our audience. I pitched in where I could, and in the evening read a particularly nasty passage from “Big Red Son” (the Max Hardcore bit with the Scotty Schwartz footnote) as an example of Dave’s sometimes unsparing honesty.
That’s Marshall up top, and below, writer Aurelie Sheehan (no relation whatsoever to Michael, as it happens), one of our wonderful cohosts. We could not have had better care taken of us, really.
The rest of the weekend was spent enjoying various aspects of Tucson life. My favorite Brooklyn pizzeria, Grimaldi’s, has an outpost here, so naturally I had to check that out. Not quite as good as home, but a very respectable (and delicious) effort…
The two novelists and I went with some of our U of A hosts for a hike in Tucson Mountain Park. The three caballeros below are Mr. Kalfus, Mr. Bock, and myself. I can’t believe I forgot to bring that hat home.
The scenery is breathtaking, strange:
I also spent a great deal of time poolside at the fantastic Arizona Inn. One thing I immediately noticed everywhere in this rambling, flower-bedazzled compound: no piped-in music. Not in the restaurants, by the pool, anywhere. Such quiet is rare. I managed to knock off two books (L.J. Davis’ A Meaningful Life and Raul Ruiz’s In Pursuit of Treasure Island, both excellent) and start a third (Hans Fallada’s Nazi-resistance epic Every Man Dies Alone, the title of which made me feel a little weird picking it back up on the plane home). And swim a few laps as well.
Of course a deep sadness also was in attendance at the occasion. But meeting all these folks, making some new and real friends, and exploring Dave’s work in such a context made it a thoroughly meaningful affair, and I owe a great many thanks to the people who got me out there.
The Mountain Park is ok, but Seven Falls is the hike to do if you’re only doing one hike in Tucson. I thought everybody knew that. Oh well.…
I would have liked to come to this if I hadn’t been out of commission with bronchitis the last 2 weeks.
That sounds like a fascinating panel, do you know if they recorded it and have plans to post it somewhere?
I’m not sure if you are referring to what your comment about Ms. Roiphe brought to mind for me, but I have to say that slate “book club” podcast about IJ was beyond disappointing, and frequently downright imbecilic. There seemed to be a cocktail of bitterness and stubborn, almost sulky frustration the participants were all sipping from, liberally, and it kept them grouching, in almost embarrassingly revealing ways, about everything but the book itself. Totally inadequate, I was surprised they posted it at all. Anyway, that bothered me for a while, which bother was vindicated here, by you.
Oh, I think it’s probably for the best that you didn’t bring that hat home. Though it would’ve come in handy for any Come Dressed As Doctor Moreau parties.
Also, there’s a Grimaldi’s in Dallas, and it’s by far the best pizza I’ve had in Dallas. Yay chains, I guess, in this case.
Hello again Mr. Kenny—nicely written and illustrated! I agree that anyone who’s interested should order this issue of the journal, which offers dense and deeply engrossing reading (and has artwork by Karen Green to boot). I was really impressed by U of A, and it was an honor to be in the same room with you and the other panelists, and hear your stories and perspectives.
You probably already know this but I believe that Marshall is the sole author of Understanding David Foster Wallace; the other gentleman’s name is but that of the series editor. WIth all due respect to editors and their contributions. Glad you got some pool time, too—was that the encoded meaning of all those b&w gams you pre-blogged over the weekend?
You have no idea how disappointed I am that I’ll never be able to see that hat in person.