Epistemographer

No, literally. David Foster Wallace met George Saunders tonight at the Public Theater for a several-hour discussion of fiction, writing and teaching sponsored by HousingWorks.¹

I decided to go (and convinced Jenny to come with me) based on my appreciation for Wallace’s prose – he’s one of my favorite writers, and reading A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again was a revelation to me as I realized that his writing sounded like the inside of my 20 year-old head (an experience that’s only happened a few other times, most notably when I read Douglas Coupland for the first time). In person, he didn’t disappoint, seeming just funny and genuine and like the sort of guy I’d have hung out with a lot in college.

As much as I enjoyed DFW’s end of the conversation, I have to say that George Saunders more than held his own, and I can’t believe that a writer who’s this smart and funny hasn’t crossed my radar. Like, ever. I left with the desire to go buy a few of his books and if he’s anywhere near as engaging in print as he is in person, I’ll be a happy reader.

Their conversation ranged across the landscape of writing, and I wouldn’t be able to do it justice here because I was so enthralled that it didn’t occur to me to take notes until about halfway through, at which point I realized that I didn’t have any paper on me anyways (and wasn’t feeling nearly dorky enough to crack open the laptop and start typing away). One thing that particularly struck me, however, was the fact that both of these guys have teaching gigs, Wallace at Pomona and Saunders at Syracuse, and they kept referring to their students and seminars throughout the two hours. It’s clear that teaching isn’t just a day job to either of them, but at the same time it wasn’t obvious exactly how central being a teacher was to either of their identities. Regardless, I have to admit that I’m thoroughly envious of any student who gets to take a seminar from either writer.

All in all, this was the best Q&A I’ve been to in years, on a par with the
Evening with Kevin Smith that I went to at Cornell. While both events suffered from the unavoidable “poser-who-wants-the-validation-of-the-famous-guy(s)” sort of questions, in both cases the sheer coolness of the people on stage triumphed in the end. Without a doubt, this was the best two hours waiting in line that I’ve spent in some time.²

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¹ This may be the most hyperlink-rich sentence I’ve ever written.
² Speaking of which, here’s an interesting question – I show up at 5:15 and there’s no line, just a bunch of people milling around in the lobby of the Public Theater. I walk up to the table that’s obviously set up to dispense tickets, and ask the two guys standing in front of it whether they’re in line for the Q&A. “Nope,” one says. Immediately, a woman nearby walks over, asks us if we’re in line. “Sure, why not?” says the other guy. “Yup, we’re the line, I guess,” I add. The woman stands behind us, and within ten seconds, the entire population of the lobby (maybe 30 people or so) has coalesced into a line behind her. Hence the question – at an event like this where free tickets are being given out, how many people does it take to form the nucleus for a line, tipping the crowd from chaos into order?

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