Postirony, again. And DFW.
One negative consequence of publishing Pop Apocalypse is that I've been blogging very little about my dissertation. For four years, I pretty regularly updated my other blog, The Postironic Times, but in 2008 I closed up shop there, transferred all my postings to this site, but lost a bit of momentum in the switch.
Well, of course, I never stopped writing my dissertation (it sometimes seem as if I'll never stop!) or conducting research on postirony or going to conferences or doing any of that tasty academic stuff.
Today, I received some good news: an MLA special session I proposed on the legacy of David Foster Wallace's writing has been accepted. The roundtable panel will feature a distinguished group of academic folk who have done great work on Wallace. We are also very fortunate to have Michael Pietsch, Wallace's editor at Little, Brown, participating in our discussion.
Here go a few key paragraphs from our proposal, which'll give you a sense of what we have planned:
The September 2008 suicide of David Foster Wallace sent shock waves through the literary world. Equally admired for his fiction and nonfiction, Wallace was considered one of the best writers of his generation, “a huge talent, our strongest rhetorical writer,” according to Jonathan Franzen. As early as 1993, academic critics recognized the importance of Wallace’s prolific body of experimental writing, which as of now comprises two critically acclaimed novels--including the thousand-page “Infinite Jest”--three short story collections, two collections of eclectic essays, a book-length mathematical history of infinity, a co-authored book on rap culture, a short book on John McCain’s failed 2000 primary campaign, and others. Wallace’s writing style seemed utterly original but hard to categorize, weaving together a number of characteristic features: hypotactic, sometimes pages-long sentences that fuse highly technical vocabularies with colloquial diction; extensive digressions, footnotes, and endnotes, also sometimes many pages in length; a mixture of silly, elaborate jokes with a deep sense of moral seriousness; and a love of philosophical paradoxes and puzzles.
And:
To focus our inquiry into the nature and scope of Wallace’s achievement, our discussion will largely concentrate on what is indisputably Wallace’s magnum opus, “Infinite Jest.” “Infinite Jest” is a novel that draws on a staggeringly diverse range of discourses--neuroscience, advertising, game theory, philosophy of mind, self-help and recovery theory, marginal economics, television history, among others--in order to ask fundamental questions about what it means to be human in an era of mass hypermediation and widespread cynicism. We will take this novel as the most accomplished articulation of Wallace’s aesthetic and philosophical aims, his attempt, as he put it in a commencement speech delivered at Kenyon College, “to do the work of somehow altering or getting free of [his] natural, hard-wired default-setting, which is to be deeply and literally self-centered, and to see and interpret everything through this lens of self.” Though we will all make reference to “Infinite Jest,” we will not limit ourselves only to discussing this encyclopedic work; our talks will use “Infinite Jest” as a platform or hub from which to stage a searching analysis of the broader set of issues that animate Wallace’s fiction, criticism, and journalism.
I'll post more as the convention approaches in December. We hope to see you there.
Palo Alto Weekly Article
My fellow Pop Apocalyptarians: Check out this article, published in the latest issue of Palo Alto Weekly, featuring yours truly. It's quite nice, and it gives a good sense of what the book is about and what I was aiming for when I was writing it. Their photographer took a pretty cool/menacing-looking picture of me, too.
Coffee and Laptops
If you find yourself floating around a bookstore anytime soon, pick up a copy of the May issue of Zink magazine and check out the last page. There you'll find an op-ed I wrote for the "Fresh Ink" section of the magazine. Read it to find out what I've been up to over the last three-four years of my productive life. (Hint: it involves coffee and laptops.)
Book Club Offer (10×10)
In the interest of getting word about Pop Apocalypse out to the general public, and of meeting people with excellent taste in literature, I've decided to make a special offer to my readers.
Here's the deal. If you are part of a book club and are interested in reading Pop Apocalypse, I would love to do a video conference with your group via Skype or iChat. I'm willing to do whatever your group wants (within reasonable limits): answer questions, give a talk of some sort, do a reading, dance like a chicken, whatever.
I would love to talk to every group that asks, but unfortunately my time is fairly limited this summer -- I have a dissertation to finish, another novel to write, and a Stanford Continuing Studies novel-writing course to teach -- so what I would propose is that the first ten book groups that can organize ten readers each to buy and read Pop Apocalypse will definitely get (at least) two hours of my time via Skype or iChat. Beyond that, I can't make any commitments.
If you're part of a Bay Area-based reading group, I would even forgo Internet-mediated communication and show up to your group meeting in person, as long as you live within a reasonable driving distance from San Francisco.
There are a limited number of weekends available this summer, and I'll fill them up on a first come first serve basis, so let me know if you and your group are interested, ASAP.
Get with the program, people
Check it out:
An interview I conducted with UCLA English Professor Mark McGurl has just been released in this month's Believer magazine. The original interview was fairly far-reaching and lively, but has here been shortened to a still-lively-even-if-slightly-less-far-reaching "micro-interview," spread through the May issue.
When you're done reading the interview, do also check out Mark's excellent new book, The Program Era: Postwar Fiction and the Rise of Creative Writing, which is sure to rearrange the mental furniture of scholars and critics of postwar American fiction, perhaps even installing a new sofa couch or two.
But don't be put off by all that. The book is also quite readable and engaging in a public intellectual sort of way. The book actually partly helped dampen some of my prejudices and stereotyped impressions about MFA programs, which I avoided, assuming falsely that they were all homogeneously dedicated to the reproduction of minimalist realism.
Not that I don't love minimialist realism, but it's just not what I wanted to do as a writer. Little did I know!