Although Of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself (41 page)

Ratner’s Star
, Don DeLillo, 1976.

Diner
, Barry Levinson, 1982.

“Here and There,” the O. Henry story David’s professor disliked, is collected in 1989’s
Girl with Curious Hair
. That’s the book David read aloud to thirteen people, including one continuous shrieker, at the Cambridge Public Library.

Secret Life
, Michael Ryan, 1995.

David filled in Gerry Howard on his Auburndale job. “I contemplated the circumstance that the best young writer in America was handing out towels in a health club,” Howard says. “How fucking sad.”

Bech Is Back
, John Updike, 1981. (The first chapter’s early pages have the book-collector stuff.)

Mao II
, Don DeLillo, 1991.

David, having had years of experience with the Q & A format, did terrific work with it in the 1999 collection
Brief Interviews with Hideous Men
. In the story “Good Old Neon,” he writes about the back-and-forth pros and cons of being able to both anticipate what people are going to next say and steering them toward a congenial square. (“Part of the shyness for me, is, it’s very easy for me to play this game of, What do
you
want? What will the effect of this be on
you?
It’s this kind of mental chess. Which in personal intercourse? Makes things very difficult. But in
writing
…”) It’s collected in 2004’s
Oblivion;
it’s an astonishingly good story.

The long quote about getting people out of your house comes from “Authority and American Usage,” collected in
Consider the Lobster
.

“You Oughta Know,” Alanis Morissette, 1995.

This book is almost entirely a product of David Wallace’s generosity and openness about his thoughts, his work, his experiences. He was a warm and gracious host, even at those moments when (his dog, the car) I was a less than ideal guest. Working on the book has left me flattered and grateful.

David’s parents, Jim and Sally Wallace, and his sister, Amy, share his qualities of charm, warmth, and great intelligence. They were extraordinarily patient and generous with me during an impossible time. As with David, the book literally would not exist without their assistance.

David’s agent and friend Bonnie Nadell, and his friends Mark Costello and Jonathan Franzen, were warm and helpful under exceptionally trying circumstances. The writers and editors Charis Conn, Colin Harrison, Gerry Howard, Mary Karr, and George Saunders were also kind enough to answer long questions with delicacy and grace.

At Random House, Susan Kamil and Tim Bartlett have been steady advocates. Broadway Publisher Diane Salvatore sets an extremely high standard for intelligence, warmth, and energy. Charlie Conrad edited this book, with the sort of focus and sharp suggestions that fuel a project. David Drake, Catherine Pollock, Rachel Rokicki, and Julie Cepler—in the areas that David speaks of with
intelligent misgivings; marketing and publicity—have proven to be just the sort of teammates you hope to find on the field. At ICM, Lisa Bankoff remains, as ever, a great advisor and friend.

This book began at
Rolling Stone
magazine. Jann Wenner and Will Dana have been wonderful colleagues. (Will, who assigned David a tennis essay early on, told me about a kind of nonfiction proposal the magazine gets: “Every day; ‘I’d like to do a David Foster Wallace take on _________’”) Sean Woods, Eric Bates, Anna Lenzer, Pheobe St. John, and Coco McPherson provided invaluable assistance. Evan Wright, who was one of David’s escorts (maybe not the right word) at the 1998 AVN Awards, was very open and funny about his experiences with David.

There’s a saying that books have friends before they ever meet readers. This book’s friends were Ryan Southerland, Darin Strauss, Ellen Silva, Evie Shapiro, Elizabeth Perella, Nick Maniatis, Pat Lipsky, Deborah Landau, Rich Cohen, Jenna Ciongoli, Matt Bucher. And Rachelle Mandik, senior production editor at Crown, who devoted many hours to proofing this book, worked with me by phone for what seemed whole days, and who (in this era of electronic data transfer) I still, as of January, 2010, have yet to meet in person. Rachelle’s kindness to this book had very little to do with me and everything to do with her love for David Wallace’s work. In a way, she stands for the whole experience. People were patient and generous with me because of the great affection it was one of David’s gifts to inspire—another thing I am grateful for to David.