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3.58 AVERAGE
3.58 AVERAGE
Heartbreaking? Check.
Staggering? At times.
Genius? Debatable.
3 stars. I liked it a lot more on a second reading, years after the first, as a man now older and—dare I say?—wiser (a little bit, at least). As books go, it's not, like, phenomenal literature or anything but it is entertaining in a few spots and emotive in a few more. Eggers has a distinct voice, a heavy hyperbolic Gen X self-aware and self-absorbed style, very much a love-it-or-leave-it deal:
In between fits of insufferable-seeming self-adulation (one hopes it's exaggerated for effect!) and neurotic self-loathing, Eggers raises a few questions pertinent to his time: what is the nature of fame? What is the proper aim of youth? What from our past is worth keeping and what can, or even must, be jettisoned? And if everybody faces personal tragedy, does that make my own any more or less significant?
Staggering? At times.
Genius? Debatable.
3 stars. I liked it a lot more on a second reading, years after the first, as a man now older and—dare I say?—wiser (a little bit, at least). As books go, it's not, like, phenomenal literature or anything but it is entertaining in a few spots and emotive in a few more. Eggers has a distinct voice, a heavy hyperbolic Gen X self-aware and self-absorbed style, very much a love-it-or-leave-it deal:
We walk the halls and the playground, and we are taller, we radiate. We are orphans. As orphans, we are celebrities...We are the bright new stars born of a screaming black hole, the nascent suns burst from the darkness, from the grasping void of space that folds and swallows—a darkness that would devour anyone not as strong as we. We are oddities, sideshows, talk show subjects. We capture everyone's attention. (96)
In between fits of insufferable-seeming self-adulation (one hopes it's exaggerated for effect!) and neurotic self-loathing, Eggers raises a few questions pertinent to his time: what is the nature of fame? What is the proper aim of youth? What from our past is worth keeping and what can, or even must, be jettisoned? And if everybody faces personal tragedy, does that make my own any more or less significant?
If I could just remove the middle section about the Real World... that section took me a week to read and almost a month to get over... because I disliked it so much I had almost given up on the book. But I'm glad I stuck it out. His writing is amazing, and genuine, and just like the thoughts in our own heads, sometimes egocentrically disturbing, but Eggers shared it all, before people were tweeting and blogging and posting every thought they have. Thank you for sharing.
Good thing i didn't give up on Dave Eggers, because i have really liked his other stuff. I just found his voice way to selfish and conceited. But it was a long time ago. maybe if i re-read it now, i would like it better.
It's not my favorite. I am currently on page 164 (according to the nook) and so far I find the delivery of the story to hard to enjoy. It's written almost in a manner of disconnected thoughts. In all of his realness, I currently find Dave is shallow, and self-centered in a poor me kind of way. and definitely very raw and angry. As to be expected with everything he has gone through. I am plodding through hoping it gets better. Based on the hilarity of the preface there is hope that once Dave gets through his grief and starts to emerge again that the story will improve.
emotional
funny
inspiring
slow-paced
Man, wat kostte dit boek me een moeite! Het verhaal kreeg me niet te pakken, geen sympathie voor de karakters, plot (?) werd me niet duidelijk. Met een uitgangspunt als in dit boek verwacht ik toch dat ik ergens een keer geraakt wordt. Misschien was dat juist de opzet? Dat je zoiets verwacht in deze context, maar dat de aandacht die de hoofdpersoon van 'de wereld' en dus jou als lezer zoekt of zelfs claimt, zo repulsive is dat je empathisch vermogen verdampt. Of misschien gaat het erom dat drama en emoties niet altijd zo netjes aan elkaar gekoppeld zijn en dat wij als 'wereld' emoties van een slachtoffer eisen die hij/zij in werkelijkheid misschien niet ervaart? Of nog niet, omdat rouwverwerking tijd nodig heeft. IK HEB GEEN IDEE! Schrijfstijl op zich vlot, en qua aanpak nog wel grappig bedacht, maar dat was niet genoeg om me aan het lezen te krijgen en vooral houden. Op een bepaald moment maar gewoon doorgelezen om het van mijn nachtkastje af te krijgen en mijn GoodreadsChallenge te gaan halen.. ;)
Was hoping this would finally turn me around to Dave Eggers, but unfortunately, no. Like his other books, I love certain parts of this, but the rest was just a slog. Having lost a parent to cancer in my 20s, I was particularly touched by his experiences with his parents. But other than that, i just couldn’t get into this. Some of the really long stream-of-consciousness passages were really unsettling.
This book too way took long to get through, and definitely wavered into the 2 star territory for some of the time. Parts were shining with goodness. Sometimes he touched on important truths in an elegant manner. Sometimes it was funny. Sometimes it was heart breakingly honest and relate-able. But mostly, it felt like this book needed some massive editing and effort. And I *know* one of the points of the author was to shrug off traditional writing styles, etc, break boundaries of what's acceptable formations of literature, whatever. But honestly, I think that was just an excuse not to spend as much time and work on the book as he should have. From reading the book, we already know what kind of person he is, and he's definitely a lazy person who would spin an elaborate theory to cover up for the fact that he just didn't want to structure his book in a fashion that's comfortable to follow because it was too much work. Just like getting his little brother, that he was responsible for, on time to his functions was just too much work, and so was all the necessary paperwork and bills to live life.
There's no arguing that what this man has been through, with family, death, friends, struggles, etc., is very interesting and good material for a book or memoir. And, there are times when he seems like he might be a very fascinating and good person. All of that still doesn't mean I agree with how he decided to dribble out words about his life and spin it into a book. It moved slow, it repeated over and over, and didn't seem to have all that important of an ending, not much arc, not much organization, whatever. Books are structured the way they are for a reason...they work that way.
The strongest feeling I have walking away from this book is that I'm glad to be done and rid of it. :p
There's no arguing that what this man has been through, with family, death, friends, struggles, etc., is very interesting and good material for a book or memoir. And, there are times when he seems like he might be a very fascinating and good person. All of that still doesn't mean I agree with how he decided to dribble out words about his life and spin it into a book. It moved slow, it repeated over and over, and didn't seem to have all that important of an ending, not much arc, not much organization, whatever. Books are structured the way they are for a reason...they work that way.
The strongest feeling I have walking away from this book is that I'm glad to be done and rid of it. :p
There is something about 'my' generation of authors (Gen X'ers?) where their writing is just neurotic. For a fifth of the book I liked him and his very few but decent reflections on his family; and I found it endearing how he cared for his little brother. Another fifth of the book was just random comments that I believe were intended as humorous breaks from heavier topics; but they just came off as irritating distractions. Like a gnat flying around the page. The other 3/5th of the book was him just discussing his favorite topics - Him being unorganized, Him living his chaotic life, Him unsuccessfully doing anything, Him, Him, Him.... Sorry, bud, but I just don't give a shit. With Twitter, Facebook, etc., I don't need to struggle through an entire book of neurosis to get the same experience of people obsessively talking about themselves.
Finished. I can't even form words about Dave Eggers running monologue. It's brilliant. And irritating. Beautiful. And PLEASE shut-up. He writes what's in his head. I get it. While also being fatigued by it.