And just to see if this blog can pack in David Foster Wallace in any given post (my brother recently suggested I should rename my blog "David Foster Wallace is Dead"), here is an epic, spectacularly cruel Technicolor takedown DFW did of John Updike, back in the day. Evil literary criticism at its most evil. Move over, Dale Peck.
Toward the End of Time concerns an incredibly erudite, articulate, successful, narcissistic and sex-obsessed retired guy who's keeping a one-year journal in which he explores the apocalyptic prospect of his own death. It is, of the total 25 Updike books I've read, far and away the worst, a novel so mind-bendingly clunky and self-indulgent that it's hard to believe the author let it be published in this kind of shape.