A Staggering Genius can be Heartbreaking Work

Copernicus was wrong: Earth and all the planets actually, as it turns out, revolve around Dave Eggers.

Now, let me warn you, this review is far longer than most of mine, so if you want to just skip ahead to about mid-way, that's when I get to the meat of the book's story.

I had originally heard about A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius in a review here at epinions. So when my brand-new copy finally arrived, I thought, "Well it sounded good, let's see now. The cover picture seems a little um, over-wrought, and then there is that title -- but what the heck, let's open 'er up."

On one of the first pages of the book we encounter, "Rules and Suggestions for Enjoyment of This Book," in which the author delineates those sections that the reader may want to skip, depending on his or her attention span. Apparently Dave assumes that most of our's is pretty short, since there's a whole lotta skippin' goin' on in these Rules.

Then in the preface, he goes over all of the parts of this edition that have been omitted. For example, "p.181: Alcoholism and death make you omnivorous, amoral, desperate. Do you really believe that? Sometimes, sure. No. Yes."

He goes on like that for pages, telling us exactly what was omitted from the book. But it hasn't really been omitted, we say in a confused voice, because every removed passage is right here in the preface, along with the number of the page it would have been on.

Next, an eleven page acknowledgment starts out with the usual thanking of friends and relatives. However, Dave doesn't stop there. Oh no. He goes on to tell us exactly how he felt when he was writing the book, the annoying questions people asked while he was writing it, how he felt about those questions, that he sometimes has sex without condoms, that he expects to die young (many of these items are actually in bulleted lists, others are simply anecdotal) and that he sees in the book (memoir, excuse me) an aspect of self-destruction. He goes on to share that the reader should PRETEND IT'S FICTION, and finally gives an accounting of how much money he made on the book including deductions for, among other things, $242 worth of paper, $5800 for food consumed while writing and $14.32 for a copy of Xanadu: Original Movie Soundtrack.

Eggers then includes an offer to send the reader money, don't ask, and a picture of a stapler which is labeled simply, "Here is a drawing of a stapler."

Additionally, there is a table of contents that I didn't read because Dave told me not to, and I do what I'm told. Lastly, and here's where it gets really criminal, there is "An Incomplete Guide to Symbols and Metaphors," in which he explains that: nosebleed = decay, sky = emancipation, tumor = portent, and so on. Am I the only person offended by this?

Okay. So now we are finally at the first page of the first chapter of what ultimately turns out to be a really well-written book. I even read the chapters that Dave said I should skip because they would probably be too boring (I know, I know, but a gal just has to cut loose and be bad sometimes, you know?) and they weren't that dull. I mean, I never would have even thought about it except that the author had given me that "ennui-alert."

The thing is, Eggers is such a talented writer that you just keep wondering, is this all part of the gag? Is he doing these unspeakably selfish, self-absorbed things on purpose, to make a point? And if he is, why hasn't he charted out for us, metaphor by metaphor, exactly what that point is? I mean, we've come to expect a certain amount of hand-holding here.

When the story finally opens, the first section of this twenty-something's autobiography tells in excruciatingly realistic detail the story of Egger's mother's death from cancer. It is a truly heartbreaking tale.

Then oddly he adds, almost in passing, that a few months later his dad died of cancer, too.

It is never explained how the three eldest children decide that the relatively immature and irresponsible 21 year-old Dave should take guardianship of the one youngest son, Toph who is eight, but you have to wonder. Dave spends chapter after chapter whining about his lack of freedom to go out to bars with his friends, his almost overwhelming fears when he does get a babysitter, and how hard it is to deal with Toph's school and teachers.

It just sucks so bad, because there are like, meetings and stuff, that he is expected to go to and dress right for and everything.

Every sentence on every page is so completely Dave-centered that we almost forget that millions of single parents deal with these issues every day. Single parents who aren't able as Eggers is, to just write a check for $100,000 to back a whimsical venture that is apparently designed to fail: Might magazine. After all, not making fun of their own advertisers, not stabbing interviewees in the back, would be just too banal, too upper-middle class for a magazine that represents the voice of the twenty-something generation, Dave claims.

In the whole Might magazine debacle, young Toph is the lone voice of reason. No one listens.

Paradox alert! Paradox alert! Could someone who is truly as self-involved and clueless as Dave Eggers appears to be in this story, actually write this effectively and self-consciously about what is, for most of us, a self-centered time of life? As a writer Eggers is good; he's damn good, but is he maybe, too good for his own good?

In case you didn't know, I get a penny for every read, so this review will probably gross about $.76 from which I should deduct $.65 for the Snickers bar I ate while I wrote it, for a net of eleven cents. Thanks for reading.