Sunday, July 04, 2004


I didn't get McSweeney's, as in, I did not grok their meaning when Dave Eggers first appeared on the lit radar. And I still cannot say I love it when he has chosen to write in the editorial "we," as if he needed company, as if what he was saying wasn't enough. The agent feuds were ugly, and when his McSweeney's store opened around the block from my little block, I thought it was just plain dumb that they were too cool to post hours. So: much of the irony floats above my straightforward, middle-aged, grey-haired head. And "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius," is, to me, 1/3 of a "Heartbreaking," etc. But the 1/3 that is genius, is cherce. Anyone who has had to nurse a parent through terminal cancer when you thought you were supposed to be being young and groovy and swinging knows Eggers is the real deal.

And now Eggers is, well, kinda loaded, sorta famous. And what is he doing with his money and his fame, East Coast and West? He is opening up...writing labs for kids, disguised as, respectively, a superhero supply store and a pirate supply store. And what could be more genius than that? I'm off to buy my cape.


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