Great Male Narcissists
The Great Male Narcissists of today have turned away from Updike, Roth, and Mailer and to a new deity – David Foster Wallace, known to true fans as DFW. What is the difference between Wallace and the others? Unlike his fellow gods among men (and I mean men), Wallace’s writing isn’t outright misogynistic. That isn’t to say he isn’t misogynistic. He is. He abused several women, most notably Mary Karr—a fellow writer who DFW dated briefly—who he would stalk, threaten, and beat. He was well known for never taking no for an answer. This is often overlooked by men because his writing, at least, what I’ve read—which is not an insignificant amount—is not particularly sexist. In fact, much of it is critical and mocking of sexist and abusive men.
In his short story collection, “Girl With Curious Hair” (1989), one passage – the title story – is told from the perspective of a sadistic Republican who finds sexual gratification in burning women. The character is racist, abusive, and reminiscent of Patrick Bateman in “American Psycho” (1991) (though this particular collection was published before Bret Easton Ellis’s novel). The story is clearly meant to satirize young Republicans. I won’t get too into DFW’s personal politics, as they were contradictory (critical of capitalism, voted for Reagan). But I can say, it’s clear that he wanted to be perceived, at this point in his life, as non-misogynistic.
So, how then, did Wallace become a lit-bro God? You cannot imagine how many times a man, a white man, has told me to read “Infinite Jest” (1996) (to which I reply, “I preferred ‘The Pale King’ (2011)”) or watch “The End of the Tour” (2015) I posit that maybe all these men who tell me to read Wallace have not read him themselves, that they saw the thickness of the books and skimmed the Rolling Stone interview and decided it must be good. I also posit that the men in my anecdotes, or in other women’s anecdotes—trust me, there are plenty—are men I generally tolerated as friends or potential partners, meaning, they couldn’t have seemed that bad at the time. By this, I mean, the women who complain about the David Foster Wallace worshippers generally get to know these men before writing them off.
These men don’t go for the flowery chauvinism of John Updike’s “Toward the End of Time” (1997) or Norman Mailer’s anti-consent remarks. They come off as products of postfeminism, or rather post-postfeminism. They’re generally college-educated. They speak in a politically correct manner. They’ve had teenage flirtations with communism and have come out Bernie bros or almost-leftists. They have female friends who they aren’t constantly trying to sleep with, who they respect intellectually (they have to surround themselves with people they consider “smart”). Overall, they seem like sound guys.
Of course, I’m not suggesting that these men are actually “sound guys.” Their literary machismo is just more… nihilistic and subterranean. They may not be into the “cock-swinging writers of the last century,” as Adelle Waldman puts it, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t doing just as much dick-measuring. They’re still competing to see who has got the biggest… um… book.
I go to a liberal arts school, I’ve witnessed too many intellectual pissing contests between men, and, while hilarious, it’s depressing. These conversations, if you can even call them that—they’re more a collection of references to Godard and DeLillo—are riddled with insecurity and atychiphobia. And, if they aren’t anxious, they think they’re better than you!
I’d like to stress that David Foster Wallace is a good writer, at least, in my eyes. Sure he can be long-winded and difficult, but I love everything I’ve read by him, and I’ve read a lot by him.. The only work by Wallace I outright refuse to read is “Brief Interviews with Hideous Men” (1999). This is the book I get told to read by these faux-feminist men right after I tell them I’ve already read “Infinite Jest,” “Pale King,” and “Consider the Lobster” (2005). For those unfamiliar, the book is a collection of metafictional pieces where an individual known only as Q interviews male subjects. As the title suggests, it’s a critique of male chauvinism and modern masculinity.
Why then, do I refuse to read it? Because I don’t want an abusive white man telling me how badly women are treated. I know how badly women are treated; I am one. The only thing worse than being told to read “Infinite Jest”—and this is so criminal because it’s intellectual posturing, it’s a superiority thing—is being told to read “Brief Interviews with Hideous Men.”
I urge lit-bros to read texts with more empathy for women, or texts from a woman’s perspective. We all know DFW is great, we know DeLillo and Pynchon are great, but I recommend expanding one’s taste and knowledge. If you’ve really got the DFW bug, I suggest Zadie Smith, particularly her essay collection “Changing My Mind” (2009), in which the last essay is a tribute to Wallace.