The New Yorker online has a new work of short fiction by David Foster Wallace available. Click on the link to read Good People. {comment}
I've now read it...
... and I'm sitting here trying to phrase some sort of response. It's a fine piece of writing.
Not an enjoyable one.
| < Prev |
|---|
Comments
This is the first DFW story I've felt both emotionally and intellectually engaged in (as opposed to just the later) in a long time.
Never to mention pregnant, pregnancy, abortion, or child was impressive too, as was the unfolding of the conflict, internal and external.
Oops! Child was mentioned, once near the end.
Rereading the story increases my appreciation for its strength.
I wonder if it's part of something longer, like zenith said.
"The only other individual nearby was a dozen spaced tables away, by himself, standing upright."
Try:
"The only other individual was a dozen tables away."
Is anything necessary lost by tightening that sentence? Wordiness can be a rhythmic device or a tone-setter and so forth, sure, but isn't this merely DFW being kinda sloppy? Or, again, over-indulging in the demotic?