As these things often go, my new essay on the surprising number of books about LeBron James sat in PopMatters’ que for a long time. This means my discussion of David Foster Wallace now feels sad, weird, and even a little callous (more on his suicide here). It means I wasn’t able to mention the new documentary about LeBron and his high school team.
That said, it also means my essay arrives just in time for the start of the 2008-2009 NBA Season. Read it here.