The writer David Foster Wallace, not a father, had something very wise to say about parenting, which on this day of personal reflection in my religion, the Jewish holiday of Yom Kippur, I’d like to share.
I recently finished the book Although Of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself: A Road Trip With David Foster Wallace, which is basically an edited and annotated transcript of a bunch of conversations between Wallace and another writer, David Lipsky, during the last leg of Wallace’s 1996 book tour to promote Wallace’s acclaimed opus Infinite Jest. The book was the source for this year’s movie “The End of the Tour,” starring Jason Segel and Jesse Eisenberg, which many critics, including the Times’ A.O. Scott, loved. I haven’t seen it yet.
One of the big themes in the book is Wallace’s belief that, to be the best writer he could be, he needed to minimize the thought and attention—and essentially the value—of how his writing played out in the world of book reviewers and book sales and hype.
Wallace was 34 at the time of the interview and hoped to be a dad one day. As he imagined it though, his approach to parenting would be similar to his approach to writing: What’s important is what happens between parent and child, and not much beyond that. A parent should be especially wary of vicarious instincts and motivations. I’m paraphrasing but I think that’s the gist of it.
This was just a stray nugget in a book filled with all sorts of interesting thoughts on being a writer and, more than that, being an adult.
Wallace committed suicide in 2008, at age 46, after a horrific struggle with depression after he chose to try to replace his long-time anti-depressant with a different one with easier side effects. But nothing worked as well, and then his original meds didn’t work either.
His conversations with Lipsky give a sense of what he was like when he wasn’t sunk by depression. As a fan of his writing, his brilliance wasn’t surprising, but it was nice to see that he has a generous spirit to others and was as terrifically entertaining and funny in person as he was print.
So I want to end this note with the latest funny from my parent life. Perhaps he would have enjoyed it. Hopefully you will.
Adam to me: “What are you doing?”
Me: “Making chicken salad.”
He peers over at it.
Adam: “Don’t get your hopes up about me eating it.”
Eric Messinger is the editor of New York Family. He can be reached at emessinger@manhattanmedia.com
