Dave Eggers: A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius

One Word Summary: Frisbee
More Words: I read this book for the obvious reason. And because the back jacket promised something mind blowing. So yeah, it blows. Hehe. Actually I don't even know what self-conscious means. I mean I know how I feel when I've done something publicly humiliating, but this is different. I've never read Kierkegaard. I think I'm supposed to like this book. Everyone likes it. It's really gimmicky. He swears a lot. He thinks about sex a lot. He's all about the mid-stream. He might not be telling the truth. He's got issues with sentimentality. He's carrying the grief of the world. He sees himself as some sort of Christ figure, and his mother is... Mary? He might be a cannibal. And yet he's an everyman- a failure, a dreamer, a tired old man, a noying. But he is never mediocre. He is magnificent. And his brother too, even more. Even more.

This book is revitalizing. I feel renewed. Like it's sping and I'm twenty and anything is possible. I should become some sort of activist and start something great. You know change the world, make it a better place, for you and for me and the entire human race. Naturally I really liked this book. It made me happy, except the part at the end where he wrote "I hate you, I hate everyone". That's what he wrote right?

Questions:
Did he mean that? The part where he hates me?
What's Toph doing these days?

Censorship: Egger's does swear a lot and try to have sex a lot. It's got Alcoholics and and it's full of Death. My daughter should probably grow up before she reads this. By grown up I mean a) she can think for herself and b) she not a self absorbed immature person. Of course this book isn't necessary for survival and there are plenty of similar works (but the style is striking and it is like a dose of sunshine). So I guess everyone should read it at their own peril. Think skin cancer.

New Words:
Solipsism, Bathos (with a 'B')

If I were a stalker:
Dear Mr. Eggers
I just read you Heartbreaking book. It was fine.

Here's a picture of my brother. He's a man now and would prefer to be called Rob. Or Bob. Or Robert. While I was reading your words I kept thinking this is my brother. When I saw your picture I thought there is my brother, whose dog is that?
Of course half way through I realized you are not my brother. You don't even look like him. Only for a moment I believed you were the same. He is a bright star. A superhero. He always says, "Thanks for the compliment, but I am not nearly so wonderful." I'm pretty sure he's right, but I don't believe him anyway. Tears and snot are dripping off my face as I write- I love my brother.
Incidentally, he has read Kierkegaard.
I wonder if you're regretting that part in the introduction where you invite everyone to write to you. Do people remember the return address envelope? I'm not actually going to mail this because, well, it's just begging to be mocked, or ignored, or lost.
ah... all the best,
Sheri