So this book is bulletproof. I finished A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers a few weeks ago, but for some reason wasn’t motivated to write about it. I went in with high expectations (always a mistake), and came out thinking it was great, but with vague, nagging sense of disappointment that I cannot fully articulate. I love McSweeney’s and since just about everyone under 30 living in San Francisco has apparently already read the book, I had heard raves from several different places, including how cool it was to read about parts of the city they knew and to read Eggers describe doing things my very friends also do. Also there was that big ol’ “Pullitzer Prize Finalist” bubble on the cover. So that was the hype, but it did not help that contemporaneously with reading I kept stumbling across pieces, well, making fun of Eggers, e.g, this (follow up here and here), this, etc. [all via Edward Champion’s Return of the Reluctant (also)].

Back to the bulletproof aspect - this book is (brilliantly) so knowingly self-aware of just how incredibly self-indulgent it is. So before you can even make that point (which, well, it’s still sitting there), it’s been made and brushed aside. But it’s an autobiography and those are inherently self-indulgent. And as one preface in some autobiography I read in my first history course in college (I think it was by a slave - the book not the course), every autobiography has to be taken with a grain of salt because people cannot be expected to recollect perfectly nor can they be expected to not exaggerate.

My favorite part, to be honest, was what comes before the proper book - the copyright page, preface, acknowledgments, etc. They are the longest most consistent stretch of amusement in the book. The first part, about Eggers’ parents dying, floors you with the honest, open, gory details. The relationship with his brother Toph is fun to read because he depicts it with such adoration, and his becoming a parent is so, well, heartwarming even if his life as a twentysomething like that of other twentysomethings is a study in self-absorption and know-it-all-ism. The brushes with fame (Adam Rich, Vince Vaugn, Mr. T, Judd from The Real World San Francisco, a girl from Dangerous Minds) add an interesting twist, but make him even less ordinary. Overall, it was a good, fun read.

Posted on Tuesday, December 12th, 2006 at 9:40 pm in Lit.
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So this book is bulletproof. I finished A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers a few weeks ago, but for some reason wasn’t motivated to write about it. I went in with high expectations (always a mistake), and came out thinking it was great, but with vague, nagging sense of disappointment that I cannot fully articulate. I love McSweeney’s and since just about everyone under 30 living in San Francisco has apparently already read the book, I had heard raves from several different places, including how cool it was to read about parts of the city they knew and to read Eggers describe doing things my very friends also do. Also there was that big ol’ “Pullitzer Prize Finalist” bubble on the cover. So that was the hype, but it did not help that contemporaneously with reading I kept stumbling across pieces, well, making fun of Eggers, e.g, this (follow up here and here), this, etc. [all via Edward Champion’s Return of the Reluctant (also)].

Back to the bulletproof aspect - this book is (brilliantly) so knowingly self-aware of just how incredibly self-indulgent it is. So before you can even make that point (which, well, it’s still sitting there), it’s been made and brushed aside. But it’s an autobiography and those are inherently self-indulgent. And as one preface in some autobiography I read in my first history course in college (I think it was by a slave - the book not the course), every autobiography has to be taken with a grain of salt because people cannot be expected to recollect perfectly nor can they be expected to not exaggerate.

My favorite part, to be honest, was what comes before the proper book - the copyright page, preface, acknowledgments, etc. They are the longest most consistent stretch of amusement in the book. The first part, about Eggers’ parents dying, floors you with the honest, open, gory details. The relationship with his brother Toph is fun to read because he depicts it with such adoration, and his becoming a parent is so, well, heartwarming even if his life as a twentysomething like that of other twentysomethings is a study in self-absorption and know-it-all-ism. The brushes with fame (Adam Rich, Vince Vaugn, Mr. T, Judd from The Real World San Francisco, a girl from Dangerous Minds) add an interesting twist, but make him even less ordinary. Overall, it was a good, fun read.

Posted on Tuesday, December 12th, 2006 at 9:40 pm in Lit.
trackback | leave a response | track comments (RSS 2.0)