Scott Esposito's LA Times review, A reporter and David Foster Wallace go on a road trip in 1996, recording their discussions, about David Lipsky's new book is a mixed one. He notes:
To be sure, Wallace fans will devour the quips and behind-the-scenes stories found throughout the book. It's a rare look at the reclusive author in all his mundanity: berating his dogs for defecating on the rug, telling waiters that he and Lipsky aren't on a date (because he fears homophobic Midwesterners) and repeatedly spilling his can full of tobacco spittle. Wallace's folksy-but-erudite run-on sentences will be familiar to anyone who's read him, and they lend his presence a delightful immediacy and authenticity.
But also:
Compared with his 2008 Rolling Stone piece on Wallace -- a perceptive deconstruction of the author's suicide in which Lipsky synthesizes quotes from these tapes, original research and interviews with Wallace's family and friends -- "Although of Course" feels half-baked. Though these interviews will be manna to fans and biographers (and the latter group, especially, can be glad that Lipsky held onto these tapes), there's not enough here on which to hang a book.
I guess it depends what you expect from a book that doesn't portray itself as anything other than a five day interview with David Foster Wallace. It was exactly what I expected, and I enjoyed every moment of it.
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From the book's back copy: "A biography in five days . . . an indelible portrait of one of America's greatest writers."
Also, DFW did not berate his dogs. Ever.
And don't forget the front cover sub-title: "A Road Trip with David Foster Wallace."
Nick