A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers (March 2018)
I reread Dave Eggers’s 2000 memoir as part of a mini-project to read every book I own one last time before I get rid of them all for good (1). I didn’t remember much about it from the first time I read it. I recall, vaguely, that my reaction was (a) the book was good. I may have taken it a step (or two) further and said you should therefore (b) read the book but (c) don’t take my word for it being good because (d) we all have different tastes and interests and preferences and this book is a little unusual and yet (e) the book did get some positive reviews from (f) real reviewers and some people even thought (g) this was one of the great books ever so (h) I’d read it because (i) it was pretty good, now that (j) I think about it.
This time around, I was a little more guarded with my reaction. I’m still on Team This Book Was Good but I’m more understanding of how people join teams for different reasons. I know some will come to this work after reading Eggers’s recent work and those readers will enjoy the process of learning more about a favorite author’s personal history. There is a novelty factor in this book that I think will win many other readers over, a novelty that relates to both the writing style and the specific circumstances Eggers writes about in AHWOSG. On the other hand, there is a universal aspect to the book in how it describes the process of picking up and moving on after a loss that I know will appeal to many other readers.
I wondered if I liked this book because I could relate a little bit to Eggers and his circumstances. In certain passages where other readers might dismiss the writing as too wild, too experimental, or even too avant-garde, I could at least try and understand, could at least empathize, that Eggers was trying (successfully) to capture the manic swings of energy and emotion that come while trying to come to grips with watching a dying mother suffer for an extended period of time (2).
I don’t know if this is really important, though, partly because I think the minimal surface similarities I notice I have with Dave Eggers serve only to more closely emphasize our significant differences. The best way to know what makes each of us unique is to closely compare ourselves to someone others identify as being ‘similar’, right? But more importantly, I don’t think being able to relate to Eggers helped me read, understand, or appreciate this book at all because the book accomplishes a task all great works of art set out to do – they distill our strongest emotions of grief, outrage, and shock into a meticulously detailed observation.
Footnotes / book project
1. Like, if you want this book for yourself, get in touch…
I should say ‘own’, since the books I ‘own’ are mostly books others have handed to me for whatever reason – I can’t recall the last time I bought a book for myself.
2. God, what a long and tiring sentence...
Is describing something as 'avant-garde' the hallmark descriptor of choice for the clueless reviewer?
