"Well they say its kind of frightening how this younger generation swings, You know its more than just some new sensation... At an early age he hits the streets, wind up tied with who he meets / You know its more than just an aggravation." --David Lee Roth, from Van Halen's "The Cradle Will Rock," from their seminal 1980 work "Women and Children First"

So it may be a little ridiculous starting off a literary review with some credible quasi-fiction book like Eggers, "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius," (heretoforeafter referred to as AHWOSG) but there is something in it that is pertinent, something I believe Eggers with his way of writing what is available to his mind at the moment, though seemingly irrelevant, would approve of. So to title your debut book, AHWOSG, borders on the absurd side of hyperboles, in the end when one is finished reading, this almost can't put down work...is not a far-off description. It's that good my friends, read on and you may be convinced.

So back to David Lee Roth waxing poetic and philosophical, which are two descriptors rarely associated with the lyrical works of Van Halen, Roth years. What AHWOSG does, less concisely mind you, is capture a voice of a generation. The book does a lot of things, but this summing up of the Gen Y, the Internet Generation, or better yet, The YouTube Generation's media savvy need for an audience on a broad scale seems to be something Eggers does most successfully, Is it a generational treatise? Perhaps not quite that, because after all, can you capture in a work of literature all the voices, feelings, experiences of a whole generation. Probably not. But as Eggers proves, you can come pretty darn close.

Just get a gander at this writing, before you go on to purchase this book (or however in your corner of the world you acquire fiction to consume), "What does it take to show you mf's, what does it freakin' take what do you want how much do you want because I am willing and I'll stand before you and I'll raise my arms and give you my chest and throat and wait, and I've been so old for so long, for you, for you, I want it fast and right through me---- Oh do it, do it, you mf's, do it do it you f's finally, finally, finally." That's the last passage from AHWOSG and it caps off a really really moving read. Those are the words from an author that really really craves an audience. And so it may be with a generation brought up on an expectation that it just isn't the "15 minutes of fame," we are all seeking and due...but the way one connects is through mass media. A mass audience validates ones existence or at the very least, helps them deal with any human pain they may be suffering in the present.

Eggers, granted, has a lot of reasons to be experiencing angst. Whereas the Gen X'ers, my generation, are thought of as largely cynical with no clear valid reason to cop that permanent attitude, Egger's generation has plently of reason to be dislocated and distraught, the music of Radiohead only one small cultural influencer, not to mention 9/11, wars, real wars, not some mamby pamby skirmishes in Grenada and The Falklands. This is the generation that could very well go down in history as the Next Great Generation, following in the footsteps of the boomers who saved the world from certain peril during War War II.

What is Eggers' AHWOSG like you may want to know? After all why would you still be reading my random stream-of-consciousness review...still? It's about loss, staggering loss. It's about coming of age prematurely when one's parents pass at age 22, leading to the taking on of guardianship for your younger high school aged brother. It's about the search for meaning in one's life through work, friends and family. It's about life, man, just read it and get back out there living it.

To go on further may dilute any type of message I'm trying to send you with this review. What I'd like to do is just to convince you to read this book. You may in some small way find yourself looking at your own life, in light to Eggers', differently. You may in some larger way get to know and understand a generation, perhaps your own, perhaps someone elses. What you won't get from AHWOSG is boredom. And in a life, the pursuit of entertainment and moreso engagement, seems a worthwhile cause, if only to enlighten and give cause to live. ...mmw

The book as a whole is much better than some of the parts. Dave Eggers has written a raw, emotional memoir of the years immediately following the death of both parents. He becomes the guardian of a younger brother and is also trying to begin his own career as a writer. Eggers is witty, sarcastic, pretenious and possibly genius, but this book was not easy for me to read. Some parts were laugh out loud funny. Some were gut-wrenchingly brutal. Some were loving, poignant and sad. Then, there were parts that I felt I would never get through and it wasn't until I was finished that I really appreciated what Eggers had accomplished. Several times in telling his story, Eggers goes off on narrative tangents that don't really move the story. These border on stream of conscienciousness, but are just hard to follow, as are some sections of dialogue. (I was torn between 3 or 4 stars, because it was just hard to get through at times.)

So why does this book have such high praise? Eggers is funny and honest. This memoir succeeds in giving an clear picture of one young adult's life and his thoughts as he strives to deal with his grief, become a parent to his much younger brother and carve out a successful career as writer and publisher. Eggers was idealistic enough to think he could do just that. I found myself wanting to like this book because of what Eggers was trying to accomplish.

If you pick up this book and make it through the preface and first chapter (it may not be easy), go ahead and finish. I think you will be glad you did. Then check out Eggers work as a philanthropist and teacher-at-large. Now that deserves high praise indeed!

the first 50 pages or so are promising. it seems like it is going to be a quirky, honest depiction of this young man's life after his parents die and he becomes the guardian of his young brother. and as long as he stays with that, the story is compelling. unfortunately, most of the book is full of random stories about his uninteresting life told in such a self-conciously, self centered way. every bad thing that happens to anyone he has ever met manages to be completely about him. he thinks he's infinitely more clever than the rest of the world and more entitled to attention and he acknowledges this. it's as if he thinks that by admitting his faults, the reader no longer has the right to be annoyed by them. but they do and i was. the writing is scattered and lazy and i don't know how it got published.

the first 50 pages or so are promising. it seems like it is going to be a quirky, honest depiction of this young man's life after his parents die and he becomes the guardian of his young brother. and as long as he stays with that, the story is compelling. unfortunately, most of the book is full of random stories about his uninteresting life told in such a self-conciously, self centered way. it's as if he thinks that by admitting his faults, the reader no longer has the right to be annoyed by them. but they do and i was.

My good friend highly recommended this book for me to read last summer, citing Dave Eggers as his hero, and so I eagerly picked this up and delved into a story of a great sibling relationship in the wake of a tragedy.

As a 21 year old college student about to graduate, you would think that I would be obssessed with this work, completely representing my generation. And indeed, it succeeded in that. The whole living situation in the Bay Area of California was awesome, and his whole mantra of being young and free in America was great too, and the book should have ended at that. I should warn you that this is a memoir, so his ego is immensely represented as him being basically a self-absorbed Berkeley young intellectual. I could ramble on and on about this book and why I wouldn't rate it higher, but I'll just get to the point.

The first half is simply enjoyable to read with the whole relationship with his brother, dealing with the loss of parents (whom he seemingly never cared for), and with his sister being driven in law school and eventually marrying. His emotions are presented well with his relationships in this memoir, and then suddenly, as if out of the blue, Toph (his brother) is never mentioned again. The second half of the book is about his magazine and this MTV interview that never seems to end. It was so boring and meaningless. I want to read about you and your brother and your lives, not about some stupid magazine and a pretentious MTV real world interview to nowhere.

Overall, I get what he's saying, and it is a good message. Namely, family comes first but it is great to be young and free in America in your 20's, of course if only brought up by wealthy suburban Chicago parents. About 90% of America can't afford to rent his house that he did in the Berkeley hills with views of SF bay and not a job in site. It is a good book and I enjoyed it, but the Pulitzer Prize? No way.

I don't think I have ever given a book a review of "dead in the middle," ringing it at 3 of 5, but I have to do it to this one. I usually really don't like books or really enjoy them (ok, a few I love). I also usually put books down and walk away when I struggle over months to get through them, BUT I found this drive to finish this one. First, it was highly recommended by a friend who is a writer for a living. Second, it has been high acclaimed. Third, I found the brilliance in the ability to write such realistic detail for so many pages on end, but alas, that was where the 3 stopped. The detail bored me to tears and made me want to skip to wear the plot picked back up, except it really never did. I suppose I am just not a good reader of rambling thoughts. I oddly enough know that Eggers is a gifted person, but this piece and the reasons I read for entertainment and intellectual improvement couldn't mesh here.

"A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius." Indeed. So few writers have Egger's gift. Wit, wisdom, a sense of humour, vision, style, flair, and the passion that enables him to masterfully craft such a truly genius work.

Dave Eggers should stick with writing fiction, so that we don't have to face the fact that the people he writes about (that is, himself) truly exist in this world.

I was an early fan of the McSweeney's website, I even have the first 13 volumes of the McSweeney's journal. I bought Dave Eggers book, but never got around to reading it, saving it kind of like saving a good bottle of wine, for when I could truly savor it. So I took it on vacation recently and truly regretted it, as there were few English-language books around I could buy to save me from this self-centered monologue. And I hope the loathing I've now developed for Dave Eggers will not detract my enjoyment of the website and journals.

Admittedly, his prose is wonderful. Loopy, long sentences, filled with imagery, witty dialogue, colorful scenery, and loads of wonderful scenarios that make you laugh. That's why I'm giving it 2 stars. But you are accompanied on this trip by a narrator whose flaws outweigh his good points. The author had a difficult early life, and it must be difficult to write of it. Also, Dave Eggers was rather young while he wrote this, and perhaps he has matured since. That said, his palpable loathing of old folks and his wish they would just die off and leave the world to him and his youthful compatriots and his gushing endorsement of the world-changing powers of, yes, reality TV, frankly disgusted me and ruined the whole book for me (I am 31, BTW, and have grandparents and old friends I adore, and adored even when I was a trash-talking 15 year old). He implies that a tragedy to a young person outweighs a tragedy to an older person (I disagree, it all depends on the person regardless of age). He constantly criticizes himself...and then continues on the behavior. Fine, that's human. But I don't need to spend hours of my life with a neurotic, selfish, youth-obsessed, contemptuous guy and his constant self-justifications.

The best part of the book was the preface, which had the ironic, satiric cleverness (and even the same font) as McSweeney's, an enterprise I always thought successfully showed off the contradictions of society, with a sort of wise, knowing, calm, and even hopeful air, like some sort of British deadpan joke. We laugh, admit our faults, and then move on. But now I wonder whether it's just trying to be knowing and superior.

So, if you can disassociate yourself from the basic obnoxiousness of Dave Egger's personality and personal thoughts and enjoy his prose, then perhaps you can enjoy this book. For those who have limited time and patience, I'm sure there are people with tragedies just as heartbreaking, but with a less entitled outlook, out there for our sympathy and support.

As the title would suggest, this is a work of postmodernism at its purest. However, that's not necessarily always a good thing. Dave Eggers presents a book that is a series of contradictions. As the title sarcastically notifies, it is sometimes heartbreaking, and it is also sometimes the work of genius. Consequently, the title also reeks of narcissism and "gimmick," to which it is equally guilty.

To summarize, Eggers details the death of his parents and then his struggle to raise his much younger brother while attempting to start and maintain a magazine and land a role on The Real World. But the book is so much more than that. While labeled fiction, he makes no bones about the fact it is almost entirely autobiographical.

When Eggers is being authentic, the book is beautiful. When he's writing from the heart, blending his neurosis and experimental metacognition with events in an ingenuous manner, the book really is a joy to read. There are sincere moments of hilarity, love, sadness, tension, and drama. Eggers also readily exposes flaws in his character and without pause--flaws we all have but may not reveal so candidly to the world. Unfortunately, my copy has 437 pages, and I'd say only about 230 of those are written in such sincere fashion.

The rest of the book is pure gimmick, and Eggers makes a point to admit this in a long-winded and agitating series of prefaces. These sections of the book really irritated me due to their completely self-absorbed shtick and superfluous nature. Eggers is pushing the envelope, and I can appreciate that, but in the instances it doesn't work, it DOESN'T work. We're all familiar with the saying, "You're trying too hard." Eggers falls victim to this temptation for much of the book.

There's nothing wrong with presenting yourself egocentrically, for the majority of us are self-centered. I admire Eggers for frankly and humorously divulging his many personality quirks. I respect the blunt style chronicling his family's struggles. And when it worked, I learned a great deal about metacognition and how to execute it well. Unfortunately, I also discovered the failings of "trying too hard" and giving into the lures of gimmick.

~Scott William Foley, author of Souls Triumphant

Okay, this book typifies the almost shameful culture we live in...the pervasive narcissism of the MTV generation. It is an autobiography which also nabbed a Pullitzer nomination. Dave Eggers, whose parents die of unrelated cancer within months of one another is primarily left to raise with the help of his two older siblings, his youngest brother Toph. It is a work of comedic excellence ( the preface included, which is a must read ) and intense tragedy, so much so you'll have tears leaking out your eyes and can't tell if the tears are from laughing or crying. I can't honestly say it is indeed a work of staggering genius but maybe I'll relent and say it shows some measure of genius. One thing however is that you will finish this book feeling like you are a solid member of the Egger family or at least one of the extended family by necessity.

I have read this book at a time when I needed something different in my life. I had just moved to live in a new country and needed something outside of the "real world" to keep me engaged and emotionally charged. This book did it.

Eggers is brutal in his honesty, he took no escapade into fancy magical mystical worlds in this book, he lived the real world and struggled through the pain of losing both parents...what else can a man do but share his story? He literary parented his younger siblings (and any serious reader will also note that his sister committed suicide few years back). He did the best he can to raise a "family", being a child parent himself. Some men would resort to women, wine, work (took much of it), hide away from responsibilities of their lives and others' they love, some men would resort to more pain by numbing themselves with drugs, some would end see psychiatrists, but Eggers lived to tell.

I found the language initially a little shocking, but got used to eventually. His extraordinary sense of humour also is commendable. He is a hero who we would be watching out for. His life is work, a creative work and it's only a grand pleasure to note someone to real exists in the literary world of today in America.

I REALLY wanted to like this book. So many people recommended it to me and told me how great it was. I had to force myself to turn the pages. The way it's written, it was really difficult for me to care at all about the characters. They don't have any real endearing qualities, and as much as I wanted to root for the kid raising a kid, I couldn't. In general, I felt it was a waste of my time to read this when I could be reading some genuinely moving.

A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius is, as its title immediately suggests to the reader, a highly self-conscious product of a post-modern age in which pastiche, posturing and the pursuit of a wryly ironic and self-deprecating celebrity blend to create a `memoir' that seeks to combine a meditation on the meaning of life with a meditation on mortality. The comic sections of the `memoir', which include the lengthy and highly self-conscious introduction, while unusual for the genre the book purports to belong to, are typical of Eggers' style.

Eggers typically exploits many of the narrative conventions of post-structuralist literature, compressing time for dramatic effect, engaging in fantastic (if not pure fantasy) scenes, having his characters acknowledge their own existence within the text, thereby disrupting the usual narrative convention and enhancing the text's own sense of its artificiality. As author, Eggers effectively turns each character, or significant event in the narrative, into a tool for exploring his own sense of loss and his thoughts and feelings. In this respect, the characters he introduced into the text, while based on real individuals, become fictional vehicles through which Eggers may articulate his moments of self-doubt, self-criticism and conduct an internal dialogue which, in the ironic style of the text, is conducted in the most public forum possible.

The sense of self-consciousness, which is developed to the point of exhibitionism, that dominates the text both captures and satirises the emphasis laid upon instant celebrity, as opposed to fame, in late twentieth-century and early twenty-first century Western culture. It also means that the persona presented to the reader is not necessarily an authentic one, just as the events presented to the reader, while being based in reality, are not necessarily authentic in their mode of presentation in the text. This artificiality is a device deliberately used to distance the reader from the author while appearing to create an illusory sense of intimacy between author and reader. The blending of fact and fiction is, as with other works of this nature, used to distance the reader from the author as an individual and to engage with him as a literary construct that approximates a set of `truths' about the human condition. In this sense, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius may be seen as what the New York Times dubbed as `faction'--the blending of fact and fiction--, a typical feature of post-structuralist narratives.

The most fundamental aspect of Eggers' narrative, apart from being the only true subject of his own story, is that the humour and comedy so often invoked by Eggers is itself a brittle thing; it is almost his only defence against the tragedy of his parents' untimely deaths from cancer, the enormous change this created in his life and those of his siblings (although any real sense of this is minimised to the extent that they appear only as flat, supporting characters in what is, fundamentally, Eggers' drama) and, above all else, from the criticism and judgements of others. This brittleness makes Eggers' self-consciousness a technique that begins to pall as the narrative extends itself into an examination, if not a justification, of the minutiae of the protagonist's pursuit of a creatively provocative level of celebrity; ultimately, there is little that Eggers does not write about that is not about himself. While, perhaps, capturing a sense of the egocentricity with which the modern world now operates, it is not an entirely endearing egocentricity and the brittleness of the humour, the febrile nature of the wit is something that invokes a more insipid version of the brittle wit of Oscar Wilde in The Importance of Being Earnest, where identity and the rights of a particular identity ultimately is all that matters.

Put more bluntly, and to echo one critic's comments, the book may be characterised as being `self-indulgent, whiney and age-appropriate' and that `Dave as Peter Pan is not particularly appealing with his creative facial hair (his description), sexual indiscrimination and age-appropriate language'. Eggers creates a composite character of himself as a contemporary Peter Pan, a Generation X tragic Everyman, that conceals any sense of himself and makes his work a `memoir' of what might have been rather than of what was. This certainly fits more closely with the recurrent narrative use of stream-of-consciousness which becomes something of a relentless tide that sweeps the reader away from an event based narrative and into one that is composed purely of the swirling thoughts of Eggers' fictionalised self, or the self-criticisms voiced through his equally fictionalised real characters. Even the existential angst to which the book pretends is often reduced in its meaning as it becomes a platform on which Eggers is able to compete for our attention against the television, the Internet and the latest celebrity scandal. In the sense that there is very little that may be regarded as being sacred, that everything--and everyone--is simply grist to the mill in the pursuit of personal aggrandisement, this is very much a product of its time.

In a sense this is one of the few books that may, perhaps, lay claim to being truly `post'-post-structuralist because it simply treats every device, every authorial and narrative structure and approach, as possessing value only when it brings attention to the author himself. This extends to the self-mocking approaches he adopts toward himself although, in reality, it is toward his role, as author and the status such a role may be understood to confer upon him. As a narrative strategy, it is one that is supposed to remove the traditional status of author as `expert' in relation to his work and strike a more a more `convincing' democratic note that suggests the author is, in fact, just like his readers. This democratic ideal, which is based in the notion of a spurious egalitarianism where celebrity is a celebration of the ordinary, the familiar, even the banal, is captured in the equally self-conscious eschewing of literariness in the text while manipulating its various features to the text's advantage.

One such example is the partially developed motif of the `lattice' that is extensively referred to in Chapter VI. While lacking the substance of considered thought or reflection, which is itself another narrative technique, it presents a plausible narrative response to the personal, social and moral complexities of the world that has the illusion of complexity while being sufficiently simplistic to fit the demand for immediate consumption. In much the same way, the haphazard narrative structure of the text, with its various comic non-sequiturs, self-conscious interruptions and interpolations, presents a structure that may be claimed to mimic the lack of structure of existence. In other words, this is a narrative that presents itself, on an existential level, as art imitating life or, in other words, art holding up a mirror to life. The lack of resolution means, of course, that it is up to the reader to ascertain, or even decide, if there is any central revelation in the text, or whether it is merely the literary version of MTV's Real World, with the difference being that Eggers got on the show this time and that he is the producer as well. If this latter assumption is true, the entire `memoir' is simply an extended retelling and reformulation of everything that can be read quickly and with relative ease in Chapter VI alone.

The notion Eggers develops in various forms throughout the book of him and Toph being `God's Tragic Envoys' (cf. p.73) presents the reader with a difficult choice: if this is indeed true, what value do others in similar situations have in relation to this claim? If the reader chooses to regard the claim as being nothing more than hyperbole, to what extent does this mean that death has little meaning beyond its effect on the living and the way in which the living may justify all sorts of behaviour under the guise of grief? Essentially, the reader must decide to what extent this notion of being `God's Tragic Envoys' is simply another self-serving fiction created by Eggers to maintain the reader's focus not so much on the death of his parents and its affect on his family as on himself, his `existential howling' and to remind the reader that there can only be one actor in this drama and that it will be, unequivocally, Eggers and his self-fictionalised selves.

There is an uncomfortable sense in which this work is simply another example of Eggers `greedily cartwheeling toward everything we are owed' in the guise of being `God's Tragic Envoys'. This underlying aspect of the work is another element the reader must confront and make a decision upon. If this is the case then absolutely everything serves only one calculated purpose, even Toph, whom he purports to love dearly, that unswervingly moves towards to the goal of Eggers' personal celebrity. Or, it may be argued, that Eggers is indeed the spokesman for his time, for his Generation X.

Dave Egger's "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius" is a real, creative and outstanding piece of literature. Egger's style of writing is often times stream of consciousness, and though this could be distracting to some readers I find it adds realism and comedy. Egger's holds nothing back with his assumptions and stereotypes. Not a good read for an easily offended reader.

After the death of their parents (both succumbed to cancer), John, Toph and their sister Beth move from the East coast to California. John and his little brother Toph move into an apartment together, while Beth lives close by. With no real "adult" influence they are left to fend for themselves in a (in their opinion, sometimes too much so) serious world. John and Toph's messy apartment speaks for itself and serves as a symbol for their messy and "free" lifestyle.

Their struggle through the real world often provokes emotions of sympathy and often times laughter. A good read for the interested, scattered or creative mind. Egger's has really created something here, it's a book you'll either love or hate. So go ahead, give it a try.

- Written by Kevin Gilmore

...is that the writing is so simplistic and the book so lacking content that it shouldn't take anyone more than 20 minutes to read the whole thing...imagine Jack Kerouac with only about a tenth of the talent taking what could have been a moving story and turning it into an insipid and overly sentimental narrative presumably nonfictional yet totally lacking authenticity...one only hopes that before he writes any more books, he goes out and buys a thesaurus.

2001 was a bad year for reality, and apparently, for fiction as well. That's the only way I can explain how this pretentious, annoying and over hyped book was finalist for a Pulitzer. Dave Eggers lost his parents within weeks of each other to cancer, and became a kind of surrogate parent to his younger brother, Topher. That's an extraordinary circumstance, that could have made for a moving memoir. But Eggers, who has a huge ego and little talent, gives us an incredibly dull and tedious account of his life with Topher. I worked hard to finish this book and in the end, I just gave up. Life's too short to waste it with this tripe.

Unless you are stranded in the middle of nowhere with absolutely nothing else to read, I would suggest purchasing a book that has gone through a second draft revision by an author who knows how to trim the fat off a corpulent story. I wouldn't trust Mr. Eggers to trim the fat off a three dollar steak after wading through this bloated, self-indulgent manuscript with a cover. It's wayyyyyyyyy too long, and wayyyyyyy too boring to bother with. Besides that, it's tainted with that "I'm too cool for school to bother myself with construction." I'll forgive the author for exaggerating his role in raising his brother, but I can't get over the fact that there actually was a huge line of starry-eyed twentysomethings pleading to be put on the cast of The Real World. What a waste of a generation. I can't imagine what happens to a society when we use our resources to give anyone who wants one a decent education simply to have millions of them waste their talents pursuing spots on reality television. Although it happened, it's nothing to be celebrated. If I were you, I'd leave this book on your friend's bottom shelf, right next to The New Kids On the Block's Christmas Album, where it belongs.

Cheers!

Wow! I was reading the various reviews of this book and the spread of opinions is staggering, if not heartbreaking. The five star reviews are as passionate as the one star reviews. And doesn't that say something about the quality of the writing? That love it or hate it does engage you?

I was blown away by just how good this book is. It's a hodgepodge of styles and thoughts and emotions. But the writing, ahhh the writing. It sings, it snarls, it spits at you in anger and sometimes it makes you bust out laughing.

This is not an easy or quick read, and yes, many of the one star reviews are right, it can be a frustratingly egocentric. The one flaw is that Eggers is very young and it shows in his writing, which sometimes lacks maturity or the ability to self-edit. But even at it's worse, it's compelling and practically jumps off the page.

It's worth the work.

[Please realize I'm just being ironic with the title.]

When I recently read Kerouac's "On the Road" I lamented that I read it too late in life for it to really change my life. "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius" on the other hand I read at the exact right time. If I'd read it five years earlier or five years later I would have been out of touch with the material.

The book opens (after the preface, which you can read or not--I skipped it) with Dave Eggers's mother dying of cancer. At the same time his father also has some kind of cancer, though this was a little less clear. After both parents succumb to their illness, the Eggers clan moves from their dull little Chicago suburb--the kind of place immortalized in John Hughes movies where the most exciting event was Mr. T moving in--to the Left Coast. Older brother Bill moves to LA where Dave, his sister Beth, and younger brother Christopher (called Toph) go to San Francisco. Because Bill is busy with work and Beth has school, Dave ends up caring for Toph.

In a Hollywood version it would probably end up like "Mr. Mom" or "Mrs. Doubtfire" at this point with lots of slapstick as a slacker twentysomething has to care for a 10-year-old boy. In reality (or what's more or less reality) they live like college roommates in semi-squalor, constantly running late to various appointments. In general Toph is a good kid who doesn't create much trouble for Dave--doesn't start running with a gang or shooting drugs or torturing small animals. Not that it's all a breeze; most of the trouble is caused by trying to convince various private schools and such that Dave is Toph's guardian.

Dave does temp jobs in graphic design while also working for "Might Magazine," an upstart youth culture magazine that like all of Gen X in the early-mid-'90s launches a futile rebellion for no real reason. (Come on, what the heck were we rebelling against with the grunge and Nirvana? I have no idea, really.) They pull stunts like try to audition for the "Real World" (when reality TV was a new concept) and fake the death of the kid from "Eight is Enough." From all appearances the magazine is never really that successful. I have a slight bit of knowledge in this area and know how tough it is, especially in this age where everyone can have a blog or website.

What I think really resonates at this point is the experience of not just growing up, but your family growing up and growing apart. As a kid, most of us don't put too much thought into our parents always being there, but as we get older we realize our parents are all too human and prone to the same weaknesses as anyone else. At the same time, the siblings you used to spend so much time with eventually move away and develop lives of their own that you no longer are much of a part of and in time can become almost like strangers. But the good thing about "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius" is that Eggers never gets too weepy or maudlin to make the experience dreary or dull. Instead, his almost surreal descriptions tinge even the darkest moments like a friend in a coma and another who attempts suicide with dark humor. Dave's neurotic inner-life reminds me of a less-sexual "Portnoy's Complaint" by Philip Roth, only it's more or less real, which is more amazing.

It might be interesting to read this book in five years and see how much it still resonates with me, or if by then this book and I grow apart as well. Wait and see.

That is all.

This book is brilliant. Its humor is perfectly balanced with its raw life lessons. I recommend this to anyone who appreciates writers who push the envelope without seeming pushy.

This book has been touted so heavily that expectations are probably way out of whack for some readers. But I just loved this book. Yes, Dave Eggers is youthful and arrogant and a little too clever, but this is a rare peek into the thinking of a guy in his 20's who is going through some major stuff with his sense of humor in tact. It's entertaining, touching and yeah, I thought it was a bit of genius.

Eggers is trying too hard to be deep in his memoir, and often throws out self-proclaimed "brilliant" ideas and insights on life without defending why they are brilliant. The writing, quite frankly, is simple and uninteresting, and Eggars fails to connect his ideas, leaving the reader confused as to what they are supposed to get from reading this memoir. I feel as if Eggars has an interesting and relatable premise for his story, but many people have interesting lives and do not become authors. It is having the ability to have the reader be effortlessly pulled into your life that makes and interesting story a brilliant memoir. Eggars does no have that ability.

I loved it! I admit it started heavy and it was hard for me to continue, but as I read further I came to love the style in which it was written. I love the full on sarcasm that is prevalent throughout the book. Maybe it is too much for some, but I loved it. Some of the passages especially those regarding his brother Toph made me want to go back and reread them over and over. This is one of those rare books that made me feel, really feel something, laughter, anger, pain and at times it felt like "I" had been punched in the gut.

I can not recommend it highly enough.

The Reasons Why A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius was the #1 National Bestseller

Written By: Catherine Schultheis

Dave Eggers, a highly motivated and endearing young man who is held captive to the role of a single father at the precious age of 21, wrote this memoir with an unbelievable amount of style and grace. Each page is a work of art, entailing a consistent flow of dialog, description, and character development. Although at some points confusing, never once was I overcome with boredom while reading this memoir.
After losing both his father and mother to cancer within five weeks of each other, Dave is introduced to the world of parenting by having been left the guardian of his younger brother, Toph. At this point, it would seem logical for Dave to break down, or become overwhelmed with anxiety, but the memoir shows no such doing. Instead these pages are filled with very detailed sentences on how Dave goes about parenting his younger brother: "He is my twenty-four hour classroom, my captive audience, forced to ingest everything I deem worthwhile. He is a lucky, lucky boy! And no one can stop me. (49)" Dave wants the best for his brother; which is why he makes such an effort to make things right for Toph, in a world gone so wrong.
Not only does Dave use forceful writing to prove his love for Toph; but also to show the balance between his family life and his determination to succeed through Might Magazine. Abrupt, and concise sentences seemed to be used a lot in this part of the memoir to prove his point that young adults should do what they want to do. "We want everyone to follow their dreams, their hearts (aren't they bursting, like ours?) Hey Sally, why work at that silly claims adjusting job-didn't you used to sing? Sing, Sally, sing! (173)" Through the publication of Might, Egger's goal is to show the world that young adults can make a difference doing what they do best. Each sentence that describes Might's goals and ideals hold a vast amount of spirit in a "not-so-complicated" style of writing.
Dave is young and determined but at the same time old and wise. He has been the victim of life's harsh reality and confidently rises to the challenge. Egger's life is truly one of a kind, which is why A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius is a real and wonderful memoir- unforgettable, to say the least.

Dave Eggers has said he wouldn't recommend starting a writing career with a memoir as open and honest as this one but I beg to differ. His open honesty about his life is what made me an everlasting fan. To use your own life to show others they are not alone in this insane world is the greatest gift a writer can give.
If you haven't read this book yet, you are missing something great in your life.

My high school book club wanted to read this book. It's a Catholic school and 2 students loved the book. I foraged through the whole thing looking for topics that would work with my students. Maybe I'm a prude but with so many expletives and other objectionable topics in this junker, I thought I could be hauled off to the "big house" if we read this book.

Yes, Dave Eggers has done a truthful account of his life and I did feel for him at times, but the ending really made me feel ripped off and used.

I suggested this book to my book club without having read it first. Big mistake! All of us hated this book so much, that we wrote a letter to the publisher asking for our money back. Perhaps we don't understand Gen-Xers, but it seemed to all of us to be a book about NOTHING. At least Seinfeld made us laugh!

We now have a rule that no book is to be recommended to the club without having first read it yourself!

Absolutely wonderful. This is without a doubt one of the best books I've read all year. Eggers' self-referential humor and heartbreaking asides weave a tapestry worthy of praise. I highly recommend this book to almost any audience. Audacious and thought provoking. An affirmation of living life and a meditation on mortality. It is probably the best example of what it is like to be a single twenty-something living in the U.S. in the modern era. Definitely worth the time.

What an incredible account of the author's pain, hope, love, fears, hatred. It's the menoir of author, Dave Eggers, showing his life as guardian of his young brother after the death of their parents.

I don't think I have ever read anything so honest and stark in its emotional content. Particularily being a first-hand personal account of the events, the story shows the jumbles mess of emotions coming with such responsibility and stress.

Please do yourself a favor and read the book!

Dave Eggers is highly talented and creative, but the book just did not engage me. As I enjoyed the clever copyright notices and chapter descriptions, I was ready for a real tour de force. Alas, I kept my expectations high for more than half the book and then had to put it aside permanently. The story of the narrating character and his little brother had generated no tension in me. I couldn't see where they were headed, so could not really get on their side. This gifted writer needed stronger guidance from his editor.

This book is the fictionalized account of the author's life. He suffers rare tragedy when he loses both his parents, within a short period of time, to unrelated terminal cancer. He ends up taking primary day-to-day responsibility for his much younger brother for most of the book, while his other siblings focus on their own lives. Not that the author does not focus on his own life. In fact, he is quite narcissistic.

For much of the novel, I personally did not find his narcissistic navel-gazing and wallowing in tragedy to be a turnoff. The writing was good, the anecdotes usually interesting or enjoyable, and there was plenty of humor. The author's use of various literary devices were sometimes original, often darkly humorous, and quite entertaining for most of the book. However, in the last third of the book, particularly the last few pages, the author turns almost monstrous.

There is no plot, though the book being autobiographical does not preclude plot, so the story itself fizzles at the end. In addition, the author's darkly witty edge is replaced by raw vitriol. Despite being alternately entertained by and sympathetic to the author for most of the book (though his moral character is suspect throughout), upon finishing the final chapter, I felt soiled. By the end, the author seems to be more damaged, less able to cope with his loss, and far angrier at the world, than he was at the beginning of the book.

As other reviewers have said, perhaps it all was meant as literary joke on the reader. Whatever the case, Dave Eggers has literary talent, so he warrants a few stars. The ending, however, was repellant and prevents me from recommending it or giving it more than 3 stars.

There are glimpses of brilliance (if not genius), but the author's still unresolved rage at the end of the book was, to me, staggering. Thus, the book is heartbreaking primarily because the author's talents have been misused in this effort.

Though my title may be typical, just know I don't typically review books on Amazon. This book is a rare exception in that I found it so touching that, despite my reading it over a year ago, I still remember how it affected me. I became so entwined in the storyline that it felt like I was a part of this disjointed and hilarious family (and after all, isn't that what reading is about? Escapism?). Even the prologue is funny, which is atypical. I thoroughly appreciated his humor and sometimes brutal honesty, and I'm sure everyone sees a little bit of themselves in the story.
According to the reviews, readers are pretty much torn between hating it and loving it. Maybe the ones that like it so much talked it up too much? For that, we are sorry, I'm sure. Some may not appreciate Dave Eggers, but I think he's fabulous. Enough said.

The best parts were about his brother. I was strongly tempted to stop reading in order and just flip through the pages, looking for his name, thinking, why would anyone who could write like THAT leave all the rest of these words in here?

To me, a memoir ought to be so honest that you feel sort of embarassed for the narrator because they've exposed themselves so completely. This WAS really honest, but the narrator's eagerness to find fault with himself deflected the reader's ability to judge him, to find fault or not. He was protected by his own self-criticism, so I never felt close to him.

Having said that, any author who leaves himself open to being compared (contrasted) to Joyce is really *swearword* brave. In the last few pages, I finally felt like I was being allowed to decide how to feel about him.

Also: why does he refuse to use the word "whom"? What is that about?

The title had the same sort of effect on me as the gold circle remarking that it was up for the Pulitzer Prize -- that is, without any suspicion or cynicism, I totally expected to love it and I only liked it very much.

I gave up, I admit it. At page 146 I couldn't take any more meaningless banter.

Read J.G. Ballard's "Empire of the Sun" instead, much, much better.

Eggers work is quite entertaining throughout. He truly captured the random way that the mind works during extreme circumstances. My issue with the book is the ending which essentially makes the whole story worthless. I believe that one of the reasons we read memoir's is to learn a lesson from another person. This book finishes without that lesson. Perhaps that is the authors intent but it does leave you empty. However, I cannot lambaste the entire book as the writing up to that point is excellent and truly captivating.

Reviews of this book seem to occupy mostly the extremes: readers either loved it or hated it. I place it somewhere in between even though I cannot recommend this book for anything other than as an example of the creative use of grammar and punctuation.

This reads like Generation X literature, harkening back to the early 90s books of Douglas Coupland, books in which angst is spread around like manure in search of a pasture; literature defining a group of people who have never had to fight or struggle for anything more than their own descents into hedonism. And this may be the point that Dave Eggers is trying to make, that of angst in search of a reason, much as Holden Caulfield clumsily stumbled around over half a century ago, but the reader just can't tell for sure.

For the reader, this book is one insult after another, an exercise in how much abuse the reader will endure in order to serve the narcissism of the author. Beginning on the title page are passages of absolute self indulgence, which do not end there but go on and on through the preface and acknowledgements as well. I put this book down several times, debated with myself whether or not Dave Eggers was using these insulting devices as a means to make a statement and tell his story, or whether he is a con man who has managed to pull off a pretty good literary scam. Back and forth, a unique use of language, true, but in the end there is no story here; there is nothing but page after page of vacuousness as the characters fulfill their missions of delayed maturity. And so I finally put the book down--for good.

Reviews of this book seem to occupy mostly the extremes: readers either loved it or hated it. I place it somewhere in between even though I cannot recommend this book for anything other than as an example of the creative use of grammar and punctuation.





This feels like Generation X literature, harkening back to the early 90s books of Douglas Coupland, books in which angst is spread around like manure in search of a pasture; literature defining a group of people who have never had to fight or struggle for anything more than their own descents into hedonism. And this may be the point that Dave Eggers is trying to make, that of angst in search of a reason, much as Holden Caulfield clumsily stumbled around over half a century ago, but the reader just can't tell for sure.





For the reader, this book is one insult after another, an exercise in how much humiliation the reader will endure in order to serve the narcissism of the author. Beginning on the title page are passages of absolute self indulgence, which do not end there but go on and on through the preface and acknowledgements. I put this book down several times, debated with myself whether or not Dave Eggers was using these insulting devices as a means to make a statement and tell his story, or whether he is a con man who has managed to pull off a pretty good scam. Back and forth, a unique use of language, true, but in the end there is no story here, there is nothing but page after page of vacuousness as the characters fulfill their mission of delayed maturity. And so I finally put the book down--for good.

I decided to order this book because the title intrigued me and the few reviews I skimmed seemed to glow. Thus, when the book arrived, I put it on the top of my summer reading list and hurried to finish up the series I had already started, building the book up in my mind to be, as the title suggested, heartbreaking, staggering, and genius. Unfortunately, the book did not quite meet this vaulted expectations, but it was a good read nonetheless. Egger's is very quirky and portrays himself as an almost complete narcissist. He is needy, paranoid, and tragically flawed, but you can't help loving him, even if you occasionally wish you could reach into the space between the period and the Capital and smack the louse upside the head. Even in the throes of the descriptions of his paranoid ramblings on the imagined death of Toph, Eggers is heartbreakingly funny. I found myself throughout the narrative constantly wondering what he was going to do or say next and musing on prospective paper topics on the recreation of the postmodern memoir through the eyes of Eggers or the pseudo-parent-child relationship of Toph and Dave as a vehicle of and for narcissism. Although the prose sometimes seemed quite listless and I had momentary thoughts of quitting the book altogether, these quickly passed in a blaze of humor or compassion toward the heartbreaking story which is his story. Though by no means genius, Egger's work is both heartbreaking and staggering, but he forgot to mention hilarious.

With all the praise this book received, I can't understand why this book didn't win the Pulitzer prize. Oh, wait! I know. There wasn't enough profanity. Maybe if he had added a glossary of profanity to go along with his oh-so-clever drawing of a stapler, that would have tipped the scales in his favor. Sorry folks, where you see "honesty" I see literary laziness. "Lets see, I can't think of a good way to describe how this feels, so @^$#*&#&!!!" It read like a kid's journal. I made it through chapter 5, then realized I could log into MySpace and read blogs by children just as well written as this was. I get it. He is angry because life is confusing and unfair. Life presents us with mutiple opportunites to feel inadequate and afraid. He enjoys shocking people with outrageous prose and images. Got it. But if this is the kind of literature that is worthy of a Pulitzer, than the world is a sadder and scarier place than I thought. In the future, I will avoid all titles written by this author as though they were the very plague!

As a literature major, avid reader and book club member, I read, and have read, more books. . . well, enough books to fill seven bookshelves in my home. While others in my book club were not as fond of this pathos-filled piece of gripping, witty, sarcastic, reality--I could not put it down. The characters filled my thoughts throughout the day, and I would dream of them once I placed the book on my night stand and went to sleep. For anyone who isn't afraid to delve into the realities of dysfunctional, struggling, richly diverse families. This book is for you!

Someone suggested this book to me with the line, "this is so you. You're going to love it." They were right, at least about the loving part. I don't necessarily know whether I write or think or act like Eggers. If I do, then I consider it a compliment.

This instantaneously became one of my favorite books of all-time. Even through the first few pages I was totally hooked to the way Eggers stayed so colloquial with his reader. I can appreciate that, especially as someone who works in the law where a lot of really simple communication has to be terse and formal. Sometimes the warmest, most welcoming type of conversation is the one that's long and nuanced and complicated even when the ideas behind the words might seemingly be simple.

To me, a good book is one that makes me think rather than just follow a plot line and a story. A great book is one that makes me write in the margins, adding my own thoughts to the passages. I transformed whole pages of this book into a notepad. While narrating a really interesting story in its own right, what made the book spectacular was Eggers's musings on the things that were happening around him. Too many writers merely describe what goes on around them without offering any insights into what they think and how they feel about particular situations. These are the types of books most of us are used to, and while the plot might move us along and keep us entertained and engaged, the end product is superficial. I usually walk away from books feeling thrilled at having finished them, but then quickly having that replaced with a sense of dissatisfaction. I never understood why that was happening, how you can complete a seemingly excellent, exciting book, and feel uneasy about it. But after reading Eggers, he reminded me that there's a lot more that an author can offer besides a fun story. Now I think that authors have a responsibility to offer more.

While I don't like gimmicks, and was originally sceptical when I saw all the little random things Eggers tossed into the book (like a weird copyright page in the beginning and a strange autobiographical blurb at the end), the fact that Eggers was totally aware of his gimmicks, and made fun of himself throughout, helped put me at ease. Few things can bring you closer to a writer than their ability to laugh and shake their head at the things they say and do. This book is filled with parts like that. Particularly, Eggers warns us that the book gets kind of boring closer to the end, and he's actually right about that. When you get to that part, and you remember his introductory statement about it, you're still marvelling at how great it all is. Maybe it's because its a memoir, maybe its because Eggers brings you into his life and makes you feel like you've known him for years, maybe it's because you don't want to fall into the trap of agreeing with a statement that should seemingly discourage you from reading his book. Whatever the case, even at is most boring "Heartbreaking Work" is exactly what is claims to be - genius.

A lot of what he says is fundamental to social humanity.
I appreciate the lack of formality. If you want to communicate something of a personal nature a conversational tone is more effective than a laboured literary one. The moments where he doesn't apply this philosophy, which add up to about half the book, are just dead space to me though. With characters not being established until halfway through the second chapter the first 1½ were a drag to get through and would have been better placed at the end of the book.

Okay, so there's nothing particularly heartbreaking about this work. And its not really one of "staggering genius"... for that you'll have to consult Pynchon or Joyce or any number of other postmodern authors. Eggers, however, is likeable and readable because he represents his reader more than most other writers. He is neither lofty nor pretentious (except maybe the title, which we soon realize, duh, is smartassery), and we seem to understand him. He is normal. He has suffered loss. He has failed at aspects of life. He shares in our post-graduate apathy. What makes this book a success is its accessibility. It is funny; it is interesting; and it was, at least for me, a quick and meaningful read.
I highly recommend the paratext too---the preface(s)/acknowledgements/even the copyright page is witty.

Ever since this book first came out in paperback, I've picked it up at various times over the years in bookstores and libraries, flipped through it and put it down. Too smug, too glib, I thought. But after reading Dave Eggers's excellent introduction to Infinite Jest (the last book I read prior to this) I knew exactly what my next read would be.

To be honest, AHWOSG was just as glib and smug as I thought, just as annoying (I often wanted to throw it in the garbage, particularly as I slogged though everything about Might magazine), but it was also heartbreakingly moving. The book brims with life (particularly Eggers's relationship with his younger brother Toph, the heart of the book) and Eggers manages to balance the grief and tragedy in his life with his unrelentless energy and refusal to surrender without ever dipping into sentimentality. Eggers's prose is excellent, he of the long sentence school of writing, and packs a whallop emotionally. He clearly wrote this book as a form of catharsis and I think that this is why the book either strikes a chord with some people and just annoys others - either you're on the emotional rollercoaster with Eggers or you're not. If you read it, give it a chance - I didn't really enjoy the ride until the last few pages, but am glad I stuck with it. Recommended.

Ever since this book first came out in paperback, I've picked it up at various times over the years in bookstores and libraries, flipped through it and put it down. Too smug, too glib, I thought. But after reading Dave Eggers's excellent introduction to Infinite Jest (the last book I read prior to this) I knew exactly what my next read would be.

To be honest, AHWOSG was just as glib and smug as I thought, just as annoying (I often wanted to throw it in the garbage, particularly as I slogged though everything about Might magazine), but it was also heartbreakingly moving. The book also brims with life (particularly Eggers's relationship with his younger brother Toph, the heart of the book) and Eggers manages to balance the grief and tragedy in his life with his unrelentless energy and refusal to surrender without ever dipping into sentimentality. Eggers's prose is excellent, he of the long sentence school of writing, and packs a whallop emotionally. He clearly wrote this book as a form of catharsis and I think that this is why the book either strikes a chord with some people and just annoys others - either you're on the emotional rollercoaster with Eggers or you're not. If you read it, give it a chance. I didn't really enjoy the ride until the last few pages. Recommended.

This guy's brain writes in overdrive! An amazing story told in a totally unique writing style.
BRAVO!

This guy's brain writes in overdrive! An amazing story told in a totally unique writing style.
BRAVO!

Once I got past the enormously long sentences, this book is a charmer. So far, the protagonist (Dave Eggers), age 22, loses both of his parents suddenly to cancer, and becomes the guardian of his 7 year old brother. He outlines their menu (lots of Ore-Ida fries), diagrams the way to maximize the distance you can slide on hardwoods in your socks (seriously), and they have food fights in the house. It's sweet but not too sweet, and whole, and handles death in a real way, the way books never handle it, the way I think when someone around me dies, the thoughts I would never say out loud. The book goes on over the course of a few years, as Dave and his brother figure out their lives.

Once I got past the enormously long sentences, this book is a charmer. So far, the protagonist (Dave Eggers), age 22, loses both of his parents suddenly to cancer, and becomes the guardian of his 7 year old brother. He outlines their menu (lots of Ore-Ida fries), diagrams the way to maximize the distance you can slide on hardwoods in your socks (seriously), and they have food fights in the house. It's sweet but not too sweet, and whole, and handles death in a real way, the way books never handle it, the way I think when someone around me dies, the thoughts I would never say out loud. The book goes on over the course of a few years, as Dave and his brother figure out their lives.