A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius

Timing is a bitch.

Kansas and I talked about doing a Dave Eggers theme this week, which I’m only too happy to do, since he is one of my favorite living human beings. The plan is for her to write about Hologram for the King, his latest book, for me to write about A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, his first book, and for us to film a video about our experience meeting him this spring. So. Here goes.

I first read Mr. Eggers’ semi-maybe-fictionalized memoir when I was seventeen. My mother had just died, and two days later, the book appeared on my chair at church, given to me by the sister of one of my friends. I hadn’t known my mother was going to die, because no one did, because she wasn’t. Until she was dead.

So I read the book, because I was happy to take any help I could get, as long as I didn’t have to ask for it. And our pal Dave happened to be exactly what I needed.

The book is a chronicle of the years following his parents’ deaths. Both died in the span of a month, leaving 21-year-old Dave as the primary caretaker for his 7-year-old brother Toph. It’s self-aware, ridiculous, honest,  and absolutely lives up to its title.

Young Dave, raising his little brother in the late 1990s, thought a lot about how other people thought of him and his grief. He viewed himself as a tragic hero, struck by fate and watched by all. Which made sense to me. It felt like the world was watching me. I think Dave did a better job managing his image than I did, though, because mostly what I did was nothing. I didn’t want anyone to see me cry, so no one did. I didn’t talk to anyone about how I felt. People assuming I would be sad or upset felt like an insult to me, so I decided to show those people they were wrong.

But weird shit happens when someone close to you dies. Normal things, too, like people bringing you meals and sending cards, but also definitely weird things, like giving you money and telling you they know what message your lost loved one is trying to send to you. People don’t know how to handle the situation, or you, so even if they mean well, it doesn’t always come across that way. And you have so very little control over yourself in those moments that containing the anger and sadness and lostness inside you seems a worthy goal, and if the people around you can’t even handle not screwing up a condolence card, how can you expect them to handle what you feel right now? Especially when you can’t handle it yourself, because no one told you it would be this way. No one told you that even in the middle of all that loss, all those parts of you that are gone or buried or numb, part of you feels good. Part of you knows you were born to play this role, the tragic hero, the chosen one, the one who was assigned this lot in life because you are special. No one told you how good it feels to be watched, to be scrutinized for any signs of falling apart or looking for relief in the wrong places or anything that could be pitied, and give the watchers nothing. No one told you that. Except Dave Eggers.

And here I am now. That Friday was five years ago this week. This Friday I got the news that my dad has cancer. That Sunday, this book came to me, and today, this Sunday, I’m thinking about all the ways it’s changed me since then.

I’ll be honest: I’m sure there are betters paths through the journey of loss than the one in this book. Repression and manipulation are very real dangers, ones that my poor little Anglo-Saxon heart couldn’t always defend against, and ones that this story sort of glamorizes.

Regardless, I will never stop recommending this book. “We read to know we are not alone,” and no book has ever made me feel less alone than this one. I think that’s why I write about books, too. Whatever I’m facing, whatever you’re facing, there is nothing new under the sun. Someone else has faced it and they’ve probably put it into a book.

“I can tell you more. I have so many stories... I can do it any way you want, too-- I can do it funny, or maudlin, or just straight, uninflected-- anything. You tell me. It’s all there, all these things at once, so it’s up to you-- you choose, you pick... I was born of both stability and chaos. I have seen nothing and everything. I am twenty-four but feel ten thousand years old. I am emboldened by youth, unfettered and hopeful, though inextricably tied to the past and future by my beautiful brother, who is part of both. Can you not see that we’re extraordinary? That we were meant for something else, something more? All this did not happen to us for naught, I can assure you-- there is no logic to that, there is logic only in assuming that we suffered for a reason. Just give us our due. I am bursting with the hopes of a generation, their hopes surge through me, threaten to burst my hardened heart! Can you not see this? I am at once pitiful and monstrous, I know, and this is all my own making, I know-- not the fault of my parents but all my own creation, yes, but I am the product of my environment, and thus representative, must be exhibited, as inspiration and cautionary tale. Can you not see what I represent? I am both a) martyred moralizer and b) amoral omnivore born of the suburban vacuum + idleness + television + Catholicism + alcoholism + violence; I am a freak in secondhand velour, a leper who uses L’Oreal Anti-Sticky Mega Gel. I am rootless, ripped from all foundations, an orphan raising an orphan and wanting to take away everything there is and replace it with stuff I’ve made. I have nothing but my friends and what’s left of my little family. I need community, I need feedback, I need love, connection, give-and-take-- I will bleed if they will love. Let me try. Let me prove... I could die soon. I probably already have AIDS. Or cancer. Something bad will happen to me, I know, I know this because I have seen it so many times. I will be shot in an elevator, I will be swallowed in a sinkhole, will drown, so I need to bring this message now; I only have so much time, I know that sounds ridiculous, I seem young, healthy, strong, but things happen, I know you may not think so, but things happen to me, to those around me, they truly do, you’ll see, so I need to grab this while I can, because I could go at any minute-- Oh please let me show this to millions...

And that will heal you?

Yes!"

-Lemon