A Heartbreaking work of staggering genius by Dave Eggers

Dave Eggers is a Titan within the contemporary lit industry. Chances are you've come across one of his introductions, or a magazine or collection he's edited. Eggers has been on my radar for awhile, never as an author, more as a literary force for organization, I'm especially partial to the Best American Non-Required Reading series that he edits. As far as a Heart Breaking Work of Staggering Genius is concerned, I could not have picked it up at a better time. It is a great work of autobiographical fiction that requires a lot of its reader, I don't know if I would have been up to it had I read this book say 2 years ago, or even 2 years from now.

That's because this book can be a work of staggering genius, but it definitely appeals to a niche type of reader. Eggers is writing himself as a character in his early twenties within his own, true story. This means that Eggers in tone, style, and characterization is a quintessential 20 year old in all their annoying and insistent duality. He is both arrogant and self-eviscerating, young at heart and jaded, sentimental and cold, entitled, "owed", attention seeking, but cripplingly self-conscious and undeserving. Eggers explores this range of 20 something identity in a way that makes this essential reading for any 20 year old who constantly thinks about what it means to be 20+, how truly formative these years can be. Eggers' story is truly full of heartbreak too; losing both parents, assuming guardianship and having to raise his little brother with a sense of normalcy. The reader watches Eggers struggle on two fronts: as a character in his own story trying to raise his little brother (7) responsibly while also trying to be a normal 23 year old with a life and as the author of his own story constantly questioning his right and ability to tell it. The constant battle painted with Eggers' calculated brush strokes gets at the heart of being young, requiring both an interest in the topic and an understanding of what it means.

And at 22 I wouldn't have gotten why Eggers was so impossibly annoying, arrogant, and constantly terrified of his life ending, but now, at 26, I see that Eggers is annoying because of his desire for positive reinforcement never reaped from his parents (whether this is true or not is open to interpretation but 22 year old Eggers' perception of it is definitely not), his arrogance is a mask to hide something much deeper down, and his constant fear of mortality is actually a fear of being forgotten. And there is a lot more here. Eggers keeps his writing interesting, spanning the events of his early 20's poetically, humorously, and offering a clear look into the depths of his insecurities. But so what kind of reader is going to like this book? One could be of any age, but being closer to 22 helps because one could remember their inner thoughts better the closer they are to that age. Either way, to appreciate AHWOSG it is required to be aware of who you most likely were when you were 20 - 25. You would have to remember the masks you wore in front of your friends and family but recognize that underneath you had no idea who you were or wanted to be, maybe you still don't. You'd have to acknowledge your fear of attention falling away from you, of never being great, the ever present fear that eyes are both on you and at risk of being off you. Then you'd have to imagine yourself in Eggers' situation; orphaned, raising a sibling as a son. This requires cognizance and making difficult realizations about yourself, if the reader does not meet these requirements they will not 'get' this novel. 

One of the manifestations of not getting it, you will find if you peruse the Internet for people's opinions of this book, is a major criticism of tone. People will find it self-indulgent, far too referential, and irreverent to the reader. That's because it requires a closer look, it requires one to read the hilariously long acknowledgements section before the novel even starts. It features Eggers clear outline of the themes presented in this book (plus a drawing of a stapler), the irony here is, of course, that the close reader who would take the time to read the 15 page acknowledgements in the beginning is not the same reader who needs the themes spelled out to them. They likely already know that when Eggers calls his work "Staggering Genius" it is not real arrogance, but manufactured. In fact, everything in this book from the copyright page, to the table of contents, to the narrative style is manufactured to create a better sense of a nagging character telling the story as opposed to the author. The reader receives constant reminding that they are reading the thoughts of a manufactured narrator NOT the thoughts of Dave Eggers, author of a Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. 

The major reason I know, and you should know, that Eggers is not writing as Eggers aged 33 or whatever, is that he will often step into the narrative and take the place of a character to savagely cut down the way in which age 20 Eggers is telling the story. This is a truly great and wholly unique literary technique, somewhat meta but artfully worked in, not out of place. It usually starts with a casual conversation between Eggers and his little brother Toph (sometimes it's his ailing friend John, but mostly it's Toph) not unlike many other sections of the book, so it always comes as a hysterically funny surprise, making these moments some of the most memorable portions. Eggers will be telling Toph goodnight or about some idea he has for a magazine. Toph would start out responding as a 7 year old, but then, out of the blue, Toph will launch into a critical diatribe about a portion of the novel; "to be honest, what I see is less a problem with form, all that garbage, and more a problem of conscience...you struggle with guilt both Catholic and unique...your father being in AA was not to be spoken of, ever, while he was in and after he stopped attending. You never told even your closest friends about anything that happened inside that house. Now you alternately rebel against and embrace that kind of suppression". This is obviously not Toph, it is author Eggers entering the narrative to continue conversing with character Eggers, both winking at the reader to remind them of the distinction between author and narrator but also to close some gaps opened by the unreliable narration of character Eggers. It is Eggers breaking in to remind his reader that they are reading fiction, not biography. This happens maybe 4 or 5 times and it is ridiculously fun and smart. It is a shame it is often lost on his readership. 

Again, reading this book as an aware 20 something is important. Coming face to face with your insecurities, trying to put your finger on what it is deep down that brings out the worst in you is an opportunity often only available to you at that age - not always, but I'd imagine doing it with kids would be hard and unworthy of your time. So delve into this book knowing what you're getting into, that at the end of the page you're reading fiction. And cut Eggers some slack, his work is genius after all.

Wolf in White Van by John Darnielle

Songwriting is not easy. If anyone could write a good song then we wouldn’t have enough accountants and there would be a lot more music out there to listen to. Song lyrics have to be both poetic and musical, the best ones often tell a story. This is how John Darnielle, the singer songwriter for the Mountain Goats, writes his songs. They often tell stories that are rarely autobiographical, feature a discernible character, and almost always offer a clear and poignant narrative of immense pain. From what I’ve heard, he always focuses in on characters that are hyper aware of themselves, usually expounding on their weaknesses or their dark situations with a cheery and uplifting tune; there is always something profoundly positive in the delivery. This mismatch of light hearts and dark minds is exactly the way in which Wolf in White Van, Darnielle’s debut novel, is written.

That is to say that Wolf in White Van is very well written. The reader is invited into protagonist Sean Phillips head in what is presumably his present day life. We learn instantly that Sean is a likeable person; he is very human in the way he talks to us, very kind to the people around him, and his life seems peppered with very light hearted moments of intimate human contact. He’s a Conan fan, he’s very funny, he reads scifi religiously, and he has a cool job writing mail-in role playing games. We also know that Sean is horribly disfigured due to an accident in his adolescence*. He spends a lot of time in his head too, and he’d like you to believe it is because of this accident, but as we travel back to times before the incident it is obvious he was always this way. This is important because the reader is often exposed to some very dark things whether in Sean’s past or his present thoughts. We travel back with Sean to traumatic moments, he was a tortured teen that grew up to be a tortured individual, his mind can go to some very disturbing places. This play between the dark depths of Sean’s mind and the very beautiful, touching moments he has with people (often strangers) serves to strengthen the emotional drive in each moment. It also makes Sean a very real and relatable person, he isn’t just a tortured man and he isn’t the bastion of humanism. This is possibly everyone’s story, but - probably like everyone - Sean feels his disfigured face makes his trauma and anger his own and the beautiful connections he forges with others, including the reader, speak to an interconnectivity that perhaps is over Sean’s head. This makes for a very empathetic read, one that is at once ridiculously fun and funny and thought provoking. Not unlike a Mountain Goats song.

It’s hard to say much more because so much of this novel is discovering Sean and the terrifying places he has been both outside and inside his mind. What makes this book so devourable is a sense of mystery; what was the accident? Who is this person he is alluding to? What lawsuit? Darnielle is laying out breadcrumbs; crafting an openness and a willingness in Sean that make what’s behind the great big closed vault doors even more tantalizing. This is true talent that I doubt will disappear as Darnielle continues to write. I can’t wait to see what he does next; musically or otherwise.

*Do yourself a favor and don’t read any plot synopsis on like Wikipedia before you read this book. Part of the reason this narrative is so powerful is the gradual way you learn what happens to Sean. I would say not to even read the back of the book.

Book Review: The Big Short

There are plenty of movies I find better than the books they are based off of; the God Father, There Will Be Blood, a Clockwork Orange, the Shining. The Big Short by Michael Lewis was freshly added to that list. Which isn't to say the book was bad, in fact, it was fascinating. Reading about the collapse of the the entire market and its subsequent bailout from the perspective of a few insiders is the chance of a lifetime and Michael Lewis orchestrates this well enough to make the Big Short entirely worth it. That said, there were frequent enough causes for eye rolling that make me wonder if picking up another Michael Lewis book is entirely worth it.

Lewis is constantly on the lookout for tough guys in tough times and his characterization of these financial insiders - Michael Burry, Steve Eisman, Greg Lippmann, or Jamie and Charlie - is pretty flatly that. Their perspectives on the numbers they discovered or their reaction to the market is ridiculously fun and insightful, but these are not Lewis' invention so much as his organization, which he did very well. What are less well done are the characterizations that Lewis strives for; Burry and Eisman (and Eisman's team) are cast as dark, cynical, and so meticulous it is off putting, almost unbelievable. Tortured white guys steeped in tragedy who dared look into the void of the US financial market only to become more dark and cynical and tortured. OK, but this narrative style is not only getting old, but it either isn't a fit for this story or Lewis doesn't piece it together well, I can't tell which. I don't mean to quibble, I know it is a true story with real perspective from real people, but I find it difficult to believe Lewis couldn't have been a hair more diverse. In fact in the prologue he talks about Meredith Whitney, an analyst who turned him onto the entire story and introduced him to Eisman, but Whitney disappears completely from the novel. Why is this important? Because I can't help but think the Lewis' characters are bad ones. All the work of humanizing them by hearing their stories told directly in quotes is abolished by Lewis' own attempt to deepen them. Vinny is a member of Eisman's team and is consistently skeptical of the market, a quote from him is a real treat. But Lewis's insistence on inserting things like "Vinny was from Queens, so his view had to be a little bit darker" flat and confusing...what does being from queens even mean? Or Burry and Eisman's reaction to their anticipation of complete market failure boiling down to hot flashes and spiked blood pressure, this is an incredibly weak reaction considering how many people lost their homes, and it deafened their actual voices with actual poignant and humanizing emotion in favor of obvious literary tradition blindly applied. Not only is diversity humanizing, but the inclusion of more character's might have left less room for Lewis's fantasizing….poorly.

A possible exception to this is Jamie Mai and Charlie Ledley. Two younger guys who were not really in the big time trading, making them the most outside of the outsiders, but also giving them a fresh and more naive view to start. Eventually they delved into the sort of cynicism Eisman, or Lippmann, or Burry wear on their sleeves, but in the beginning they are ambitious and doubtful of their own abilities. Again, this is less of Lewis's doing, but that he included them proves the point; diversity is humanizing. Ledley and Mai add humor and empathy, their real life story adds to their development as characters in a book, which means Lewis doesn't add much to them. Their sections were fun and the best of what Lewis's other sections were; pure perspective from fascinating people. They were a breath of fresh air in a story that was surprisingly and frustratingly lacking empathy.

Which truly is the most disappointing thing about The Big Short. It loses itself very quickly and will most likely lose most readers. It isn’t a great non-fiction book, it doesn’t delve into the corruptibility of the entire financial system, it doesn’t link it with the formative Bush years or economic inequality, there are no harrowing stories of everyday citizens losing their homes. All of these things would have given The Big Short a humanizing thesis, or at the very least, a sense of direction. As a work of fiction these stories would have added depth. Not to mention, all of the material was there! Look at this gem that Leley gives Lewis towards the end of the novel; "At the top of [my] list of concerns, after Cornwall Capital had laid its bets against the subprime loans, was that the powers at be might step in at any moment and prevent individual American subprime mortgage borrowers from failing". That is a truly eye opening thought to be explored; was this entire catastrophe preventable? Why weren’t the people saved before the banks even went under? What did it mean that they weren’t? But does Lewis doesn’t go anywhere with this, he just advances what did happen (the bailout etc). I think Lewis might forget at times, even after the subjects have given him brilliant insights to work with, that his readers lived through the bail out. They come to The Big Short for an inside look, but they really only get to eavesdrop. What they hear has the potential to blow their mind, but only because of the stories they already lived.

Beloved by Toni Morrison

If Senator John Conyers ever gets H.R. 40 passed, a law he raises every senate session that allocates money to the study of the legacy of slavery and an assessment of reparations, Beloved by Toni Morrison should be at the top of the reading list.

Yes, Beloved is entirely fictional, though the story is loosely based off a bit of American slavery legend; a woman faced with returning to slavery because of the fugitive slave act, decides to kill her children rather than give them up. The legend is often alluded to as the stuff of rebellion, the ultimate rebellious act in the face of slavery; the destruction of one's own children in an effort to prove they belonged to no man. It's a story for martyrdom referenced in pop culture, from Nina Simone to Talib Kweli. Yet Morrison explores this idea, shattering the mythos of the martyr in favor of a far more haunting and vulnerable story. She delves into the narrative; humanizing both the mother, Sethe, and victimized child, Beloved, in a novel essentially about belonging.

While Sethe and Beloved are the center of the narrative, it is essentially about a community of former slaves escaped to Ohio, who are nothing but haunted by their former bondage. And Morrison knows how to haunt her characters. It's obvious slavery consumes all as the book drifts from present plot points and conversations into glimpses of perverse images - a man burning, a mentally broken slave, a hanging woman - all images of a former life at a Kentucky plantation called Sweet Home. If a character is walking or talking, deep in reverie or simply cooking a meal, the scene quickly devolves into vivid depictions of abuse, escape, and the pain reserved only for survivors of the very worst genocides history has to offer. The potency of these memories is proof enough that Morrison can write in a stunning and unrivaled way, she may be the only writer capable of truly humanizing the legacy of slavery. At any rate, she accomplishes something no non-fiction book on the topic could ever really do.

One of the demonstrations of Morrison's ability is the way she makes belonging a central theme. It is only later that we realize the burning man is a friend, the broken slave a husband, the hanging woman, a mother. The reason we, the reader, aren't greeted with these facts immediately is because Morrison is exploring what slavery teaches about belonging (it is no coincidence the villain in Beloved is named Teacher, the chief overseer at Sweet Home). If this book were non-fiction the thesis would essentially ask what happens to one's sense of belonging when they belong legally to another person. There is so much helplessness in Beloved, an eager desire to own oneself, the product of one's labor. Even the word beloved is used to refer to a cherished and treasured individual, someone who belongs to us. While this seems like it could quickly break down into common sense, to the obvious notion that slavery was bad for the individual slave psyche, it is Morrison's complete mastery of storytelling, of painfully interrupting the reader that keeps the reader entrapped.

And it isn't always violence the way many stories of slavery and racism must almost necessarily be. Morrison has proven it is possible to use imagery alone to jolt the reader, remind them that they are never in a safe space. One of my favorite examples of this is when Denver, one of Sethe's daughters, the only one born free, is at the home of a Dutch brother and sister who are considered "good whites", true champions of abolition. Denver is there asking for a job, but before the reader can feel too comfortable:

"Denver left, but not before she had seen, sitting on a shelf by the back door, a blackboy's mouth full of money. His head was thrown back farther than a head could go, his hands were shoved in his pockets. Bulging like moons, two eyes were all the face he had above the saying red mouth. His hair was a cluster of raised, widely spaced dots made of nail heads. And he was on his knees. His mouth, wide as a cup, held coins needed to pay for a delivery or other small service, but could just as well have held buttons, pins or crab apple jelly. Painted across the pedestal he knelt on were the words 'at yo service'"

This is all we see of the doll, but Morrison doesn't arbitrarily place it in the house of the only friendly whites in the novel. It is a simple yet vivid reminder that racism penetrates everywhere. This image isn't for Denver to see, but the reader. We are all familiar with the sambo, the helpless and stupid black boy that needs the white man to lead them. We know the depiction of sambo is the bulging white eyes and the red mouth. The isolated sentence describing him on his knees and the simplistic 'at yo service'. This was meant to haunt the reader even as something good starts developing for a truly lovable character.

Beloved is deeply disturbing, it's uncomfortable, it's unbelievability is unsettling and doesn't detract from the power with which Morrison writes. Many critics compare her to Faulkner in style, this is true and she compounds on it elegantly. But in content, Toni Morrison is truly one of a kind, writing humanity into a horrifying moment in history and shaming us deeply for forgetting it was ever there.

Brief Interview with Hideous Men by David Foster Wallace

Picture David Lynch directing, not whole episodes, but single snatches of Seinfeld dialogue, and you've got the gist of David Foster Wallace's title story Brief Interviews with Hideous Men. It peppers this book of short stories, leaving off and picking up with different "subjects" (interviewees) as the other stories end. The reader, who it's presumed stands in for the interviewer, is represented by just the letter 'Q' in between large swaths of interviewee (these are allegedly the hideous men) monologue. There are intense layers of ironies amidst narratives ranging from graphic and disturbing to witty and downright hilarious. They sets the tone for all of the stories in the book, inviting the reader into an interrogation room and forcing them to ponder difficult questions about moments of growth or beauty or togetherness in the presence of intense trauma.

While the theme seems to be relatively consistent, these stories have extraordinary range in style. Even though each story is drastically different there is something so obviously David Foster Wallace persistent in each, that binds them together. Like DFW temprament is the One Ring or something. It also makes it difficult to point out any one story that stands out. Sure, there is truly intricate and beautiful prose like in Forever Overhead or Church Not Made with Hands, two stories that made me literally despair at how well they were written (the contemporary world of literature lost one of the true greats). Or there is the essential neurotic Wallace in The Depressed Person or Dantum Centurio, whose incessant repetition and over-technicality felt both hilarious and aggravating. In Octet you're met with Wallace's distinct brand of Meta-fiction, which at its worst could probably put any Woody Allen movie to shame; the way it teeters between begrudging self degradation and endearing honesty is refreshing for a style usually reserved for smugness or cynicism. And finally there is Wallace as just a really good story teller. For the reader who values plot over all else I'd give them Adult World, On His Deathbed, Holding Your Hand, and above all else; Signifying Nothing. Each with a radically disturbing element; fierce, hidden guilt about that disturbing element; and a coherent, linear plot the three stories are written the way short fiction should be written. Signifying Nothing is particularly artful at both pushing you way outside of your comfort zone and then comforting you there, possibly expanding something deep inside you, all in the course of a few pages.

Which is what makes this book of short stories so great. It is an introduction to Wallace's special kind of fiction, without delving into massive projects like Infinite Jest or the cripplingly sad (and long) Pale King. DFW believed vehemently that good fiction should disturb the comfortable and comfort the disturbed, a line I believe he borrowed from another author. Regardless, nothing speaks more to his dedication to this idea than Brief Interviews with Hideous Men. If you're looking for Foster Wallace fiction, or you're looking for the standard with which all short fiction should strive, this should be at the top of your list.

Mislaid by Nell Zink

In Mislaid, Nell Zink isn't just arbitrarily zealous or unconventional and she doesn't make decisions on issues of race or gender without a deep consideration of literary tradition. Her many allusions to literature aren't for nothin'. She reads like a succinct Franzen, like you shrunk Freedom and forced it to address race. But Mark Twain is also present, so is Kafka, Beat Poets galore, and there is a palpable but nevertheless covert southern gothic tone reminiscent of, no kidding, William Faulkner.

On the other hand, Mislaid is all about not fitting in (no surprise there). While Zink effortlessly riffs of similarities she doesn't fit in with her predecessors or contemporaries. One could argue this is similar to her characters, but they'd be missing something subtle. Zink offers a widely diverse but intimately (and obscurely) connected cast of characters who, finding they don’t fit in with the traditional conservative settings they were born into, try to flee to progressive havens; a profoundly gay women's college, a hippy commune on a squirrel sanctuary, a university and small town obsessed with affirmative action, an abandoned house in a black community, and even the black community itself. But rather than finding where they were supposed to be as wildly different than where they were born, there is still a deep sense of being an outsider no matter where the characters find themselves. That's because to Zink, fitting in has nothing to do with finding the right people to reside with because even in "progressive" institutions (which are still institutions) fitting in is still a matter of permission. The politics of race and gender are everywhere; the main character Peggy escapes conservative middle class Midwestern family to a radical women's college where she still can't fit in and ends up being stymied into marriage because she gets pregnant and the old as dirt tradition of placing the familial liability of a child squarely on the shoulders of the mother is ubiquitous in America in the 60s regardless of what hippy college you go to. Every character faces privileges and disadvantages because of their perceived race or gender; characters white as the driven snow identify as black in what I think has Twain written all over it. And there really is no escaping these power structures, white males still get away with murder (figuratively speaking of course, no spoilers here), women are forced to be submissive, and black people are perversely discriminated against in ways that remind each character that it isn't about fitting in, but being let in.

This is all very complicated, but the reason why Zink can accomplish so much in such a short book is because she is a master at pacing. She will move through plot at break-neck but remarkably believable speeds and remain cogent. At the same time she is able to slow down moments to excruciatingly suspenseful detail by detail breakdown. I bring this up because I feel, to an extent, it saves this novel from being flimsy and almost whimsically insensitive to its own sentiments. As an example, Peggy and her daughter run away and pretend to be black to escape a potentially abusive marriage. Society unthinkingly accepts them as being black despite their white skin and blond hair because being black in America is a construct created for you by the powers at be, it isn't really about skin color. This idea, coupled with the comical fact that society wholly accepts them as such without a literal second thought, could be too irreverent, cartoonish, and at worst offensive, to a pretty serious theme. But in a dash readers can see how dependent this is on who holds power in a situation. Like they are painfully reminded that Peggy is not white when Temple, an African American friend, chases her down a street to give her a hug in an alley. A fretful and vivid scene of a police officer who feared for Peg's safety out of prejudice basically stops and frisks Temple, kicking the contents of his pockets into a puddle and treating him like a dog. The scene, and many like it, are wrenching. Pulling you out of the flowing plot and smacking you. They demonstrate a necessary fragility to Zink's narrative and message. It reminds everyone, the characters and readers, that no matter what choices you make, their ridiculousness, or believability, or merit are determined for you by the merciless powers of tradition. It's a sobering realization in the midst of a silly and unbelievable short narrative, hello Kafka 2016.

Letter to Senator Stabenow: Endorse Bernie Sanders

Senator Stabenow,

As a young working Michigander I took great pride in voting for you to represent our state in the senate. 2012 was the first election I voted in post graduation. I was happy to vote for a Senator with a strong track record in working for Michigan families. Particularly as the son of a single working mother, also a teacher. But I was 60k in dept and terrified, which is why I greatly appreciate your #InTheRed campaign. I couldn't rely on my parents or lucrative scholarships to pay for my education, I graduated 60 thousand dollars #InTheRed as a result. Since graduating in 2012 I was able to land a job and pay down my debt by almost 40k, but I'm still 20k in! Because of this I support your #InTheRed campaign, but I also have a problem with your endorsement of Hillary Clinton as President.

Hillary Clinton is proposing a debt free college, but Bernie Sanders is proposing making college free. I have major doubts over Hillary Clinton's affordable college plan, mostly because it seems like a No Child Left Behind solution. It plans on providing grants and funding to states based on individual school's willingness and ability to lower tuition. I've blogged extensively about the inequality that could arise out of this plan: https://canberniesandersdoit.wordpress.com/2015/09/01/can-bernie-sanders-make-college-free/ 

For one, Republican led states may not reverse their pattern of divestment in higher education, so under the Clinton campaign schools in those states would not be able to lower costs for their students. Two, my smaller school, Oakland University, provided great opportunities to students who couldn't move to larger schools for whatever reason, oftentimes economic ones. Oakland University though, received the least funding of any school from the state of MI. So under Clinton's plan there is no guarantee that OU would be able to lower tuition costs and would remain unaffordable for the students who need affordable college most.  Bernie Sanders plan to get students out of the red is to provide free college to all students. Providing education to all through sweeping federal action is a far better method because it doesn't cause state by state and school by school competition. This means every student has an equal right to free education whether they are going to U of M or SVSU or OU or Harvard. No student who has the educational prowess to get into college should ever feel money is an obstacle. Clinton's plan is about affordability to SOME and Sanders is about free education for ALL.

Whomever is elected in 2016 will have to do something about rising student debt and higher education costs before things come crashing down. I know you know this. The problem cannot be boiled down to state divestment; the federal government is subsidizing students to go to college and collections agencies down to loan holding companies are profiting wildly. Many declare Bernie Sanders plan unrealistic or that it can't be done, but I believe with powerful allies like yourself, combined with passionate movements like #InTheRed, we can make college free for all students with college aspirations. That's why I believe you should endorse Bernie Sanders for president in the 2016 democratic primary.