The newly released "Fate, Time and Language" is an updated version of the late author David Foster Wallace's undergraduate thesis on fatalism, a concept that haunted and preoccupied him throughout his too-short life.
‘Fate, Time and Language: An Essay on Free Will’
by David Foster Wallace, edited by Steven M. Kahn and Maureen Eckert
Columbia University Press, 252 pp., $19.95
Not every college student gets senioritis. Case in point: About a decade after he failed to become a professional tennis player and a decade before he published his novel “Infinite Jest,” the late, great David Foster Wallace, then a 23-year-old English-philosophy double major at Amherst, took on the subject of fatalism in an undergraduate thesis.
Most Read Entertainment Stories
- Bill Gates reveals his summer 2019 reading list recommendations
- Seattle theater community holds fundraiser for local actors whose daughter was diagnosed with cancer
- You can’t rush perfection. ‘Game of Thrones’ tried and came out like an undercooked Hot Pocket.
- Ballard Jazz Festival celebrates Seattle's vibrant jazz scene and 20th anniversary of 'Speakin' Out' album
- Ciara heads to Harvard for business-school program
“The fatalist thinks of himself and his role in the world in a curious sort of metaphysical way,” Wallace wrote in “Richard Taylor’s ‘Fatalism’ and the Semantics of Physical Modality,” now published for the first time with explanatory notes in the thoughtfully edited “Fate, Time and Language.”
“Everything that does and will happen must happen, and … persons as agents can do nothing but go with the flow.”
The particulars of Wallace’s argument will elude lay readers unfamiliar with philosophy’s “contingent future-tensed propositions” and “law of the excluded middle.” Still, fiction lovers with even a minimal knowledge of Aristotle and Wittgenstein will understand the core proposition of fatalism — we have no say in what we do — haunted Wallace’s writing.
“There was a palpable strain for Wallace between engagement with the world, in all its overwhelming fullness, and withdrawal to one’s head, in all its loneliness,” writes James Ryerson in his introduction. “The world was too much, the mind alone too little.”
For an author who devoted thousands of pages to dramatizing that crisis before he killed himself at 46, what could have been a dry intellectual exercise becomes an unexpectedly affecting obituary.
Justin Moyer can be reached at email@example.com.