David Foster Wallace is 44 years old. Jonathan Franzen is 46. Jonathan Lethem, 42. Michael Chabon, 43.
I point that out not to be rude—although I admit it is kind of rude—but because those are the writers that people—people who think about such things, anyway—think of as the young American novelists. And even by the notoriously elastic standards of the literary world—the only place on earth where you can still be a wunderkind at the age of 30—42 is not especially youthful. Wallace, Franzen, Lethem and Chabon may be great writers, but one thing they are not is young writers.
But if Wallace, Franzen et al. aren’t the leading young novelists anymore, who are? It’s not an idle question. The novel is one of the most vital cultural resources we have—a private, potent means of sharing the unspeakableness of daily life with one another. So it’s only natural to wonder who’s taking care of the novel—who’s taking up the torch and where exactly they’re taking it. Or whether it has gone out. The novel is one of the platforms from which the voice of a generation speaks. And if you listen closely, you’ll start to wonder if the current generation has a voice at all.
“via”:http://www.complete-review.com/saloon/index.htm
Bookmark
