I thought the idea of Dave Eggers was great, I respected his journal McSweeny’s and sometimes thought his quasi-punk rock ethics were commendable. I’m one of the few people of my demographic that hated this book and felted cheated (or of the few I’ve run into (4th edition note, this is not so true anymore)). One book in particular that I choose in this manner was Dave Eggers A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. This second of choosing books I have begun to wean myself off of since too many times I have been burned on the choices.
The second way is by catchy covers promising pop-culture hipness. One is through the convoluted and serpentine way that I choose most of my books. There are three ways that I pick out books to read. I'm procrastinating right now, and copying this from another site where this originally appeared. I still haven't died so that's beside the point. I wrote this a few years ago, back when I had just finished reading the book, but before I had died. Eggers walks a nice line between acknowledging that yes, it can be romantic and charming, and it can also be incredibly awkward and wrong. The idea of randomly handing money to people has a certain romantic charm, and Mr. Plus it really goes to the core of how it feels to be a relatively priviledged person today, who knows that he should be trying to help less fortunate people, but has absolutely no idea how to really go about doing that.
And this book is a perfect summary and explanation of that feeling. This idea that every moment that you arent experiencing something new you are wasting your life.I know that isn't true, but I feel it too sometimes. I identified very strongly with these characters, and this blind desire to keep moving, and have only important, true, enlightening experiences. It's like a movie where you know they are trying to make you cry, and you do cry, and then feel bad about it because you know that they played you like a fiddle.īut as much as I'd like to resist it, I am a fiddle and this book played me. It just seems so blatantly directed at exactly who I am, a late 20's person confused about what direction to take in life. I'm a little torn here, because I feel like I was supposed to like this book, so part of me wants to pretend that I didn't like it.
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