You need to sign in or sign up before continuing.
Take a photo of a barcode or cover
3.58 AVERAGE
3.58 AVERAGE
adventurous
emotional
funny
hopeful
inspiring
medium-paced
A very meta-postmodern pseudo-memoir, full of fascinating thoughts about youth, idealism, and the nature of memory and memoir itself. Uneven throughout, very strange at points, but ultimately beautiful.
funny
sad
medium-paced
I liked it. There were long parts about starting the magazine business that I didn't care about, but most of it was about the family and those were definitely the best parts. His writing style reminds me a lot of Evan Grillon, he's pretty funny and dry.
"James came walking down the aisle, under a sky that had cleared and was now immaculate, the first notes wafted toward us, piped through two speakers on the deck--it was not the wedding march. Or Pachelbel. It was--I was panicked, scanning the crowd for a reaction because I was almost sure that this song was--oh, now it was unmistakable, this song--This song was "Beth" by KISS. Not an instrumental version. The original recording. And she was barefoot. Did she think this was funny? Surely she couldn't--
There was a cliff only thirty yards away, and I wondered if i would be noticed, if i could just slip away quietly, as they were all watching the entrance, and fling myself over."
"James came walking down the aisle, under a sky that had cleared and was now immaculate, the first notes wafted toward us, piped through two speakers on the deck--it was not the wedding march. Or Pachelbel. It was--I was panicked, scanning the crowd for a reaction because I was almost sure that this song was--oh, now it was unmistakable, this song--This song was "Beth" by KISS. Not an instrumental version. The original recording. And she was barefoot. Did she think this was funny? Surely she couldn't--
There was a cliff only thirty yards away, and I wondered if i would be noticed, if i could just slip away quietly, as they were all watching the entrance, and fling myself over."
Didn't like it at all and had to force myself to finish it...no real purpose to this boo, no plot, full of self-pity
Exceptional. If you have ever wondered what it would be like to listen to someone’s internal thoughts - the writing style feels like an accurate depiction.
I cannot believe that I’ve had this book for over a year, heard amazing things about it, met the author, and only just read it.
What is wrong with me?
Few books are as engaging and brusque and honest and truly funny as this. Literally – no one smiles in public in Paris, but when I read this on the bus or on the metro I would be laughing. This is the power of Dave Eggers’ voice. He’s smart, he’s raw, he’s achingly real. I’d always admired Hemingway for the straightforward power of his writing while hating its almost journalistically-detached tone. But Eggers – Eggers – he is someone I hear talking to me. And I appreciate that.
To be honest, it’s been months now since I actually read Heartbreaking Work; it’s October 29th now (I started this post in August) and I’ve just been at a loss of how to pay homage to it. Maybe not “pay homage,” but to figure out how to express the depth of my appreciation, and to express my admiration of how daring one must be to write so – I hesitate – heartbreakingly about such a time. The sheer nerve, to expose oneself and one’s friends and family and relationships to the public – even if it was, as he’d thought, going to be just a small public, if any public at all – but now to such a massive public.
The guilt of writing this while I should be reading The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet for Comp Lit is nagging at me. I’m never going to give Heartbreaking Work the review it deserves, at this rate of slackerhood. But at least I’ve finally put something up, right?
What is wrong with me?
Few books are as engaging and brusque and honest and truly funny as this. Literally – no one smiles in public in Paris, but when I read this on the bus or on the metro I would be laughing. This is the power of Dave Eggers’ voice. He’s smart, he’s raw, he’s achingly real. I’d always admired Hemingway for the straightforward power of his writing while hating its almost journalistically-detached tone. But Eggers – Eggers – he is someone I hear talking to me. And I appreciate that.
To be honest, it’s been months now since I actually read Heartbreaking Work; it’s October 29th now (I started this post in August) and I’ve just been at a loss of how to pay homage to it. Maybe not “pay homage,” but to figure out how to express the depth of my appreciation, and to express my admiration of how daring one must be to write so – I hesitate – heartbreakingly about such a time. The sheer nerve, to expose oneself and one’s friends and family and relationships to the public – even if it was, as he’d thought, going to be just a small public, if any public at all – but now to such a massive public.
The guilt of writing this while I should be reading The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet for Comp Lit is nagging at me. I’m never going to give Heartbreaking Work the review it deserves, at this rate of slackerhood. But at least I’ve finally put something up, right?
adventurous
funny
fast-paced
My dad's favorite book—and one of my own as well. Egger's zeal for life jumps off the pages and inspires.