Martin Schneider writes:

On the New Yorker website, fiction editor Deborah Treisman contributes a thoughtful postscript about David Foster Wallace. I particularly like that Treisman discusses Wallace from her perspective as a fiction editor. He made ample reference in his footnotes to his bouts of intractability when it came to having his work edited, and the glimpses Treisman permits us into that process sound very consistent with that.

Wallace's four works published in The New Yorker are also available:
"Several Birds," June 27, 1994
"An Interval," January 30, 1995
"Asset," June 21, 1999
"Good People," February 5, 2007 (continued)

Martin Schneider writes:

Wow. This is very, very, very, very sad. Wallace was one of my very favorite writers, and I'm devastated that he's gone, of suicide, at the young age of 46. I value his essays and journalism as much as anything written since 1990 or so. The one about the cruise, the one about McCain, the one about Michael Joyce.... top marks, all, and so many others. His work wasn't for everyone, but I really took to it. He made the literary landscape more special than almost anyone I can think of.

One day in 2005, I noticed that his Wikipedia page was practically empty. Consternated, I proceeded to contribute about ten moderately feverish paragraphs of questionable accuracy attempting to summarize his work to date. There was a lot wrong with it, and subsequent Wikipedia editors were neither slow nor shy in undoing some of my more intemperate remarks. That page has changed a lot, but I was the first to give it a skeleton. In a very small and inconsequential way, I'm proud to have played a role in the public perception of this very special writer.

I saw him read once, at the Union Square Barnes and Noble in support of Brief Interviews with Hideous Men (he was incredibly entertaining) and afterward I lined up to get a book inscribed. A very thrifty friend of mine had brought a battered hardback of Infinite Jest, recently thrown out of the Newark Library System, and Wallace engaged in a little banter about that. I happened to have a Robert Coover novel with me, and rather flippantly handed it to him to sign; in his hyper-scrupulous way, he made it plain that he could not in good conscience put his name in a book by another writer. (I'm an idiot.) Instead he inscribed my copy of Brief Interviews with Hideous Men. I'll never forget that chilly blast of ethics; it still reminds me of his essayistic voice.

In the Wikipedia link above, readers will notice that I pursue an extended comparison between Wallace and Norman Mailer. I've put it out there a few times, and I think nobody really agrees with me, but I still think it has legs. Experimental writer of "big" ambitious fiction capable of sublime passages of ten or fifty pages; journalist of genius. That describes both men; how unspeakably horrible to lose both within the space of a year.

A few years ago I started a small collection of original periodicals containing Wallace articles; it's so upsetting that they have become true collector's items so soon.

Update: Those who (like myself) find themselves separated from their collection of Wallace's writings may be eager to know where they can get some online. I know of three complete works to read, and most of one to listen to.

His 2001 overview of the "usage wars," which appeared in Harper's, can be read here.

His 2004 article about the ethics of consuming lobster, which appeared in Gourmet magazine, can be read here (PDF).

His 2005 essay about a conservative radio host, which appeared in The Atlantic Monthly, can be read here.

I don't think many people are aware of this, but there is an excellent podcast of Wallace reading from his article about 9/11 that appeared in Rolling Stone right after the tragic event. That podcast can be found in iTunes under "KCET podcast: Hammer Conversations."
(continued)

Robert Giroux is gone. We met at a party maybe ten years ago; we had both been editors of the Columbia Review while at school, so we compared notes--he said something funny about it that I can't remember, but I do remember his graceful, easy manner and palpable intelligence. Christopher Lehmann-Haupt writes in the Times, "If the flamboyant Roger Straus presented the public face of Farrar, Straus & Giroux, presiding over the business end, Mr. Giroux made his mark on the inside, as editor in chief, shaping the house's book list and establishing himself as the gold standard of literary taste." What a palace of thought and beautiful design that man built. (continued)

Martin Schneider writes:

In the mid-1990s, an artist friend gave me his well-thumbed hardback copy of Negative Space. It was one of the better presents I've received. What a good critic. He will be missed. (continued)

David Remnick, the editor of The New Yorker, who has written extensively about the Soviet Union and visited Mr. Solzhenitsyn, wrote in 2001: "In terms of the effect he has had on history, Solzhenitsyn is the dominant writer of the 20th century. Who else compares? Orwell? Koestler? And yet when his name comes up now, it is more often than not as a freak, a monarchist, an anti-Semite, a crank, a has been."