Reason #80231 I want to have David Foster Wallace's baby

So these days I'm trying the literary world on for size by working at a literary agency. My motives for wanting to ingratiate myself into the domain of the the sad, the young, and the literary are not pure or simple by any means (friends, my motives are rarely pure and never simple.) This new career aspiration has inked up because, sigh, I've fallen in LUV4evs. I've loved David Foster Wallace a little bit before but not with this brand of flagrant intensity. He's an old flame that's metamorphosed into the Towering Inferno after being doused with gasoline and whiskey. A few years ago I read Broom of the System and Brief Interviews with Hideous Men and really admired his piece "Consider the Lobster" for Gourmet magazine. But after five years of constantly getting preoccupied and putting it down I've officially finished Infinite Jest --DFW's tres important, ambitious, and prolix piece de resistence of over 1000 pages. I was left thinking "this man's mind could sink the Bismarck," and "he makes my ovaries ache a little." In case you don't know who DFW is, he's the long-haired enfant terrible of post-modern gen-x literary bad boys. He makes those losers Martin Amis, Douglas Coupland, and Dave Eggers want to burn their MacBooks and throw their Van Der Rohe chairs out the window. I strongly urge everyone to go out and buy Infinite Jest. The rewards are generous. It's the best thing to come out of 1996 since Pulp's This is Hardcore, and that means a lot coming from me.

Love,
Mar Mar