The first 30-odd pages of the book (before the story even starts) are some of the most inventive and crazy I've ever been privilege to read. They're almost a mini-story in advance of the novel, easing you into the wackiness in a more subtle way than the harshness of his true story can. I absolutely love this book. It makes sense of things that have no sound or sense. I am lost in the words that are laid down on the page.

Coming on Air Theremin: a book report (because I miss grade school) on A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, by Dave Eggers. Possibly more book reports to come if I like the feature.

I'm also reworking my Swamp Babe story, which I posted to the old Carl Jeffries blog a while back. And finishing my Choose Your Own Adventure 55-word story. They should all come this weekend. I need to step up my blogging, especially since we haven't heard from Gryfft for three whole days. You can usually count on him (unlike me, I'm totally unreliable), too.

Also coming hopefully is: more bloggers, if I can wrangle some talent our way.

Possibly also I will be soon helping Jackson with This Week in Webcomics, which is an awesome idea.

I'm half-way through the book and thus far, aside from traveling to a few countries and trying to tape money on goats (I'm pretty sure it was goats), nothing has happened. I know that the main character's face is severely messed up

and bruised from some fight. His best friend is named Hand. And the main character doesn't really like his mother or want a shit load of free money. Aside from this, I know nothing else.

Now, I have heard great things about Dave Eggers so it is truly tragic that the first time I give him a chance I am disappointed sorely by his book. (A friend who runs his own site told me to try Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius instead, but we shall see). You Shall Know Our Velocity is going nowhere as far as I can see and I'm having the hardest time talking myself into reading it.

In fact, I've started a different book in the meantime that is very engaging and brilliantly written (the review to that will come soon). The incentives to finish You Shall Know Our Velocity simply are not there.

I think I'm going to give up on it.

P.S. Those excerpts from reviews on the cover are a bunch of mis-leading statements (unless the end is absolutely brilliant and makes up for the entire first half which was bloody awful).

“Non vogliamo male a nessuno”: una conversazione su msn

di Maria Carrano e Rossano Astremo

Rossano: Al termine della lettura di “Non vogliamo male a nessuno”, paradossalmente, quello meno entusiasta della raccolta ero io che, come sai, sono un amante della narrativa americana contemporanea

Maria: Decisamente.

R: Tu hai una tua massima che mi ripeti ogniqualvolta ti consiglio un titolo:"odio i contemporanei”

M: Verissimo, anzi, odio i contemporanei e soprattutto odio gli americani.

R: Allora, come la mettiamo con questa momentanea inversione di rotta?

M: Credo che la forza di questa antologia sia il ricamo narrativo fatto intorno ai tabù sociali, mi spiego meglio:

i temi sono quelli che terrorizzano la società statunitense al momento: la guerra, la paura e l'insicurezza, il cancro,..Ogni racconto ripropone in un contesto di normalità la trasfigurazione dell’orrore.

È come deformare per esorcizzare.

Manca l'incesto ed il cannibalismo, per il resto c'è tutto.

R: Sì, tutto questo accentramento attorno ai temi terrorizzanti si è radicalizzato nel post 11 settembre, ovviamente.

M: La cosa che più ha sconvolto una società non abituata alla guerra ritorna nel loro immaginario collettivo in modo preponderante: l’attacco alle torri sono il XXI secolo.

Sono l'insicurezza e il rifugio l'anima di questa raccolta; l’impossibilità di fronteggiare ciò che è ormai non è possibile controllare. In questo senso il primo racconto, “Il soffitto” di Kevin Brockmeir, il più brutto a mio parere, è anche quello che riassume il senso dell'intera raccolta.

R: Brockmeir scrive davvero bene, ma la storia che racconta si perde per strada. Però, senti qui che riesce a scrivere sto tizio: "Era quasi mezzogiorno e il sole allo zenit aveva cominciato a velarsi. Come sempre le sagome dei nostri corpi si ritiravano ad ovest, svanivano per un attimo nella calicine meridiana e si protendevano a est, cadendo oltre i confini del mondo. A volte mi chiedevo se avrei mai più rivisto la mia ombra formare una pozza ai miei piedi"

M: Tu t'innamori della parola scritta.

R: È vero, mi innamoro della parola scritta. Credo che molti racconti mi abbiano lasciato indifferente poiché tecnicamente sono ineccepibili, e questa è la forza dei giovani narratori americani, conoscono le armi del mestiere, sanno come plasmare l’argilla, non la utilizzano a cazzo come molti giovani italiani, però, dal punto di vista delle storie trattate molti autori replicano cose che leggo da anni.

M: Sono scritti molto bene, non c'è dubbio. Sai, forse quello più decontestualizzato è "Una corda a tre capi" di Nathaniel Minton. Declinazione didascalica del senso di smarrimento e del raccordo generazionale interrotto…anche se un collegamento lo si potrebbe trovare con il cinico racconto di Boudinot.

R: “Una corda a tre capi” ha questa vena anacronistica del tutto assente nel resto della raccolta.

M: Ti dice niente “Non è un paese per vecchi"?

R: Penso di aver capito dove vuoi arrivare.

M: Sì, gli Stati Uniti sembrano iniziare a sentire il peso di non aver una tradizione culturale millenaria. Sono giovani, irrequieti, isterici e per questo creativi e allo stesso tempo fragili…

R: Sino a poco tempo fa questa era la loro forza, no?

M: Si, era la loro forza. Con questo mi sono lanciata in un'analisi sociologia decisamente fuori dalla mia portata, ma non resisto alla chiacchiere da bar.

R: Le chiacchiere da bar sono quelle che reggono al peso del tempo.

M: Che osservazione sagace!

R: Ma anche no.

M: Difatti. Trovo che i due racconti di cui parlavo si accomunino al bellissimo film dei Cohen vincitore agli Oscar di quest’anno, è come se fossero uniti da un filo ideale. “Non è un paese per vecchi” si chiude con il sogno del padre inseguito a cavallo. Una traccia verso il passato riconosciuta come solida soluzione al senso di smarrimento e sgretolamento. In altri termini è come dire ‘dai ragazzi, ci siamo sbagliati, il superomismo futurista e futuribile delle grandi imprese economiche sta fallendo, l’unica è recuperare l'esperienza generazionale’.

Guarda caso ciò di cui parla Boudinot in “Civiltà”, che esaspera il concetto divertendosi a immaginare un mondo in cui lo Stato invita ad uccidere i propri genitori come sublime gesto patriottico…(e a pensarci bene non c’è da sottovalutare l’incontestabile vantaggio per le casse dell’INPS).

Idem vale per Minton (“Una corda a tre capi”), dove il protagonista, il cartografo, preferisce usare le conoscenze trasmesse dall'eredità paterna e materna per dis-orientarsi in uno scellerato deserto.

L’unico incontro possibile è con il folle fotografo sepolto vivo per non morire (nel più grande paradosso dell’intera raccolta di McSweeney’s).

R: Anche “Appunti da un bunker lungo la Higway 8” di Gabe Hudson, a mio parere il racconto migliore della raccolta, si struttura tutto attorno alla radicale contrapposizione tra padre e figlio. Perché secondo te c'è questa esigenza di confrontarsi continuamente con i "padri"?

M: Perchè l'attivismo non supportato da un orizzonte valoriale forte si sgretola. È la cultura secolare che regge le società. Il rimando al passato come fonte di senso. Quando questo rimando non c'è la società vacilla.

R: Ci si guarda alle spalle per continuare a galleggiare?

M: Ci si guarda per sopravvivere nei momenti bui come questo. Si sta delineando un nuovo ordine mondiale. Gli Stati Uniti sono pronti a cedere lo scettro? La vecchia Europa l'ha fatto ed è qui solo per via del forte rimando culturale che ha alle spalle.

R: Quello che prima era un punto di forza ora si sta trasformando in un boomerang dalle proporzioni inaudite e la letteratura che è pur sempre sguardo sul reale coglie questo punto di saturazione…

M: Diciamo grazie a Eggers che ha saputo individuare la rappresentazione del punto.

L'unica cosa che trovo davvero di cattivo gusto della raccolta è l'introduzione. Gran caduta di stile del nostro Dave. Cito la frase incriminata: siamo felici che voi italiani non viviate più sotto Berlusconi.

R: C'è gente che ha scritto recensioni leggendo solo l'introduzione. Mi sembra che sia una boutade, in fondo.

M: Poi mi viene da dire, sì, ma allora Bush?

R: Penso che Eggers spari su Bush le stesse cartucce dialettiche utilizzate contro Berlusconi

M: Nulle insomma.

R: Qualunquiste?

M: Nessuna cartuccia nessun risultato.

R: "Nessuna cartuccia nessun risultato”, mi sembra un'ottima frase di commiato.

]]> http://wordsbeforewords.wordpress.com/?p=211 Tue, 24 Jun 2008 22:29:54 +0000 thelitlife http://wordsbeforewords.wordpress.com/?p=211 "Let's say that every day, every morning, millions of people, on cue, take the whole stupid thing apart, all the cities and towns, with hammers and saws and rocks and bulldozers and tanks--whatever. Shake the Etch-A-Sketch. We just converge on the buildings like ants, then wire the things and knock them down, knock everything down, every day, so the world, by noon or so, is flat again, wiped clean of buildings and bridges and towers....Then we start over. But not start over in the Rome-wasn't-built-in-a-day sort of way. I mean, we wake up, tear the world down to its foundations, or below that even, and then, by three in the afternoon, we've got a new world."

-A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius

-A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius

1. What country do you always go back to in your travels (not just while reading for OT)?

Since taking Canadian Literature I've been fascinated with the writing from this country.  I've found that I want to read all I can from this country and as a result have participated in the Canadian Book Challenge.  Being involved in that particular challenge has helped me expand my CanLit knowledge.

2. If you could visit 4 of the countries you have read about in your life (that you haven't been to yet), which would they be and why? (you can also include the book that makes you want to visit if you remember)

This is one of the more difficult questions, one I may have to return to after the challenge is over.  There are a number of countries I'd like to travel to but not because I've read any of their literature.  There are a couple of books that have helped to feed the travel bug.  An Appointment with my Brother by Yi Mun-Yol, despite that it takes place in China and South Korea has made me want to venture to the norther part of the the Korean peninsula.  The story is about the meeting two brothers meeting after having been separated by the Korean war.  I've already been to the Southern part but the north is of more interest and has been of more interest for quite sometime, the book has made the urges to visit that particular country stronger.

The other book that was What is the What by Dave Eggers.  I've always wanted to travel to the African continent but What is the What has encouraged it.  Africa has always ad a place in my heart and hope to travel there one day.  There are a few specific countries that I'd like to go to but given the number that I'd like to go to I wont list them here.

Australia is a country I've also wanted to travel to, I think this is the one place I've always wanted to travel to more than anything.  I've never read anything from here but would love to.  I think I get more enjoyment from reading something that is familiar to me though.  I find a book that talks about a place I've been more interesting because I can picture the places better.  The best example of this would be Spadework by Timothy Findley.

3. Have you ever dreamed about a country you have read about, that you have not actually traveled to - except in your dreams?

No, this has never happened.  Then again I don't remember many of my dreams so I guess it could have happened but I don't remember.

4. In what ways has reading about different countries opened up your perspective about global issues?

My perspective on global issues has dictated my reading habits sometimes but I cannot think of global issues being affected because of my reading.  If anything my reading of other countries has expanded my knowledge of a particular issue.  I'm not sure if this is due to my need to expand what I read or that I'm already quite aware of global issues.

5. What countries have you felt your judgment was off about - after reading about that nation?

I wouldn't say my judgment of a nation has been altered because of what I've read.  Maybe my judgment of a writer or genre has changed.

6. Which is your favorite book that you would recommend for this challenge (you don't have to read it during the challenge)?

The one book that I would recommend for this challenge would be Dave Eggers' What is the What.  There are many aspects of the novel that I loved and I've already reviewed the book so I wont go a lot into a review.  The book is fascinating because it deals with the lost boys and the hardships they have gone through in order to get freedom and feel safe.  It's a book that is very difficult to put down.

7. Anything else you've been wanting to tell us about? Let us have it!

I've enjoyed this challenge so far, it's expanding what I read and I'm finding some great literature from other nations.  It'll be interesting to do this meme again once the challenge is over to see how answers change due to the challenge.

Det känns som om det här är en sjukdom som drabbar fler och fler. De flesta jag vet som drabbats av Cancer har inte överlevt även om forskningen verkar gå frammåt... 

Borde man inte börja tänka på vad det är man egentligen stoppar i sig? 
Konserveringsmedel, färgämnen, sötningsmedel etc. Listan är säkerligen lång och vi låter oss lockas av flashiga förpackningar när igen egentligen vet vad sukralos (E 955), glukossirap eller aspartam egentligen gör med våra kroppar eller vår natur.
Visst är de mesta man äter och dricker cancerframkallande och inte många orkar tänka på sånt.
För cancer är ju något som bara drabbar andra?
Eller?

Som vanligt känns det som om ignorans är den ultimata medicinen mot ett lyckligt liv. Ingen orkar bry sig och självklart tänker inte företag ändra sina produkter när ingen klagar.

Jag rekomendera dock en riktigt bra bok
"A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius"
(http://www.adlibris.com/se/product.aspx?isbn=0375725784)

Collecting is a risky game, though. Some scored with McCarthy, but followers of William T. Vollmann lost big in the 1990s. Ken Lopez, a bookseller who specializes in modern and hypermodern titles, told me of a failed attempt to corner Vollmann futures: “A small group of young guys got together to monopolize the market,” he says. “They would travel to book signings, buy 10 copies of Vollmann’s books for $17.50, and mark the prices up to $100.” But they overshot, and today the market is overstocked, supply having outstripped demand.

Atenem doncs les lletres i de les manetes ja parlarem.

Només una cosa de lletres, si voleu entendre una mica el que és l’Africa i les seves guerres i els seus problemes llegiu Què és el Què del Dave Eggers. Això si no és un llibre per estómacs delicats.

Salut

1. Jered read it almost five years ago.

2. Jered remembered that it was a great book.

3. As soon as Jered began reading it, he felt like it was like re-visiting an old friend.

4. Jered was not feeling particularly bold or daring enough on that specific day that he began reading this book to go find a new book to read. Finding new books to read is enjoyable and an adventure in itself, but on that particular day, he was not emboldened to undertake such a risky endeavor (aka he was being lazy).

Now that I have the formalities out of the way, let me tell you about this fine little read. First of all, I love Egger's style of writing. He writes in a slightly sarcastic way, bordering on the sardonic, yet treading lightly as not to seem overbearing or rude. He is random in his prose. His thoughts almost seem disjointed and slightly unhinged, but once you read a particular story or theme, you'll realize that it was very calculated. This type of writing might leave a person initially disenchanted and confused, but you'll soon discover that it all makes sense.

The book is labelled a memoir, but with a creative non-fiction slant. Eggers takes a great deal of liberties to flesh out the book. He deliberately exaggerates the memories he recalls in order to weave together a yarn that makes sense. Admit it, I'm sure we have all exaggerated certain aspects of our memory when we retell them to others. Eggers just does it in a way that is believable and interesting way without it ever becoming a "big fish" story.

One of my favorite aspects of AHWOSGis the preface. It is the longest preface known to man (slight exaggeration) that seemingly never ends. I'm not going to give it away, but I felt like it was a novella on it's own. A second thing I enjoyed about the book is that Eggers is extremely self-effacing. He is self-conscientious about being self-conscientious towards you thinking he is self-conscientious. He was 22 when the events started in the book. The catalyst of his story is when he is forced to deal with the death of his two parents, both of whom died within five months apart from each other. In turn, he was entrusted to raise his little 8-year-old brother in a world where the yuppie youth is driven by unhindered passion, selfishness and individualism. AHWOSG is so eloquently written that he reminds you of life's uncertainties and sadness while retaining a sense of humor. On the surface, it might seem to be a comedic book, but once you dive past the layers, you'll find a story of raw emotion and authenticity, where a man tries to make some small, sensible rationale in light of the world's bitter treatment.

I suggest you give it a whirl if you've never read it. Take a daring move that I didn't take (at least this last time around).

This is the fictional autobiography of Valentino Achak Deng, one of the Lost Boys of Sudan. It is fictional because he was a young boy for most of his journey across Sudan and so some of the conversations are not accurate. Valentino, with the help of writer Dave Eggers, presents a compelling portrait of the plight of the Sudanese people, seen through the eyes of a young boy.

At times light hearted, his story is always moving. The deplorable situation in Darfur has brought the media's attention to Sudan; but the crimes being committed there are not localized to that one province. Valentino, as he is known here in the US, begins his tale with a robbery, not committed in Sudan but here in the good United States. It is as Valentino tries to adapt to our unfamiliar culture that we are presented with flashbacks to his journey across the desert with the thousands of other boys who tried to find safety, first in Ethiopia and then in Kenya. He tells of watching lions leap out of the bush and snapping up a boy in front of him, of unimaginable hunger, and yes, of young boy cockiness.

This is an amazing book, one I highly recommend!

I took a bit of flack from Ben Schultz, my mentor of literary journalism, for choosing this store over the better local bookstores, and to be fair for the general browser in Madison I'd still recommend Avol's Bookstore over the University. That being said, I still think that basement is the best place if you want to buy something quickly or be overwhelmed with choices, and I killed many an afternoon between classes browsing down there.)

Used books rock Chappell's socks in cold WI weather

Originally published in The Daily Cardinal, October 12, 2005

The six months of sub-zero weather are almost upon us, and that can only mean one thing – it’s time to go into hibernation. Trade the lake for a warm armchair and the margaritas for Irish cocoa, pull out the heavy quilt and curl up with a decent book.

However, before you can hibernate you need to store up for the winter, and for someone like me who has to have twenty books to read at once there’s only one place to go: the used book collection in the basement of University Bookstore. I’m sure this will shock some people, as why would I choose a place that biannually takes students for an unfair amount on textbooks when so many cheap bookstores are already in town?

It’s simple – those half dozen tables and bookshelves provide one of the best cross-sections of reading material in the entire campus. On one table you can find Dave Eggers, Roald Dahl, Chuck Palahniuk and Art Spiegelman five feet apart, while the neighboring shelf has Jane Austen and H.P. Lovecraft right under Oscar Wilde. It’s pointless to go down there looking for something in particular, as you’ll get distracted within the first five minutes.

It’s also one of the easiest places to pick up a book on the spur of the moment, especially if you’re shopping for textbooks. Since you’re going to be spending a couple hundred in one sitting, there’s no problem in adding “The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test” to the top of the stack – it’s only five bucks more, you’ve got something to read for fun and it gets the clerk wondering what class you signed up for.

But where does this bizarre collection come from? According to Steve Scheibel, who handles the store’s used book purchases; the majority of titles come from college wholesalers who buy their stock from universities around the country. Once a college takes a book out of circulation the wholesalers scoop it up, offering it to used book stores in good condition and high quantity.

“It’s amazing to stand out there and look at the breadth of subjects,” Scheibel said – and it is, both in terms of geography and topic. Where else can you find a Woody Guthrie biography possibly from a New York liberal arts college, bordered by two hardcover erotica textbooks courtesy of the University of California?

The trend of used books in the basement, Scheibel said, began in 1987 following the death of Allen Ginsberg. Ordering used copies of his classic “Howl,” he was surprised to see how well they sold and started developing what he saw as a “strong college backlist” of authors students typically get into during college.

That backlist has stayed relatively constant over the years – writers such as Kurt Vonnegut, Jack Kerouac, J.D. Salinger and Philip K. Dick are always popular favorites – but there’s always some variety. Former best-sellers are also available through the wholesalers, and old book collections are often sold to the store.

“Anybody who can’t find something to read down here doesn’t want to read,” Scheibel said, and I have to agree with him. Putting this much literature in one place is no less than creating a buffet line for bookworms, and only charging half price – titles average around seven dollars each – makes the selection just begging to be raided.

Unfortunately, the table does its job too well on pack rats like myself: immediately after talking to Scheibel, I wandered over there and spent 35 dollars on Oscar Acosta and William Burroughs. Freezing to death may actually be cheaper these days.

Edward P. Jones is a writer of uncommon restraint. He crafts his stories with simple, straightforward language, with historical significance, and without flare. Jones teaches at Princeton, has published two collections of short stories (almost all set in Washington, D.C.), and The Known World, from 2003, is his first and only novel. It is a magisterial work: in a review of his second collection of stories, All Aunt Hagar's Children, in the New York Times Book Review, Dave Eggers notes that Jones spent tens years writing The Known World, and articles in Entertainment Weekly and the Atlanta Journal-Constitution place it in the company of Toni Morrison’s Beloved. Oh, and it also won the Pulitzer.

The story revolves around Henry Townsend, a free black man and slave owner in pre-Civil War Virginia. As a young man, Henry works for William Robbins, the richest white man in Manchester County. Robbins mentors Henry, an eager bootmaker who reads Paradise Lost, helping him to buy his freedom and later his first slave. This slave, Moses, becomes the overseer of Henry’s plantation. The plantation setting is oddly bucolic; slaves are treated humanely, and they work hard yet manageable days; individual families live together in cabins. When Henry dies unexpectedly, his wife Caldonia is heartbroken and not able to uphold Henry’s command of the plantation. Caldonia takes Moses as a lover, and things quickly spiral out of control: fights break out, slaves escape, loyalty falters, and Henry’s father—a free man like his son—is illegally sold back into slavery.

I struggled a bit with Jones’s use of the omniscient point of view—he sees into all of his characters’ thoughts and desires, and at times this stultified the language and the story. Jones is most often applauded for this style, and while it doesn’t quite work for me, I can see why—it gives the narrative the pace and insight and earnestness of the Bible. Indeed, Jones described in an interview how he "could see [his characters'] first days and their last days and all that was in between," that he was, in essence, the "‘God’ of the people in the book."

The Known World is a feat of imagination and a vivid evocation of place and history—the dusty plantations of Virginia in the 1840’s and 50’s, where black masters own black slaves, where the supernatural is as near as the cotton fields, where the local sheriff looks to his Bible for daily guidance: "The man had been on his knees for nearly two hours: God gave so much and yet asked for so little in return."

I had a hard time accepting that I liked The Corrections. I didn't read it until late 2006, early 2007. I came to the book having read Ben Marcus's essay in Harper's, so I had already decided Franzen was one of the bad guys (let's leave the Oprah fiasco out of this). Ignorantly so. The book still produces in me mixed feelings, but it was fun to read and raises so many good questions. For anyone who's ever met or known someone with Alzheimer's or a form of the disease, it's interesting to see the way he shows it from the inside (imagined, of course). And I enjoyed the language, once I got over my resistance to writers who seem to be saying "look at me, look at my fancy writing tricks" with their writing (see: Dave Eggers, David Foster Wallace). But be warned, there is foul language and content that does not suit all.

The ever-present question remains: literary or popular fiction? High, middle, or low brow? Can we have both? What are the values? I will say this: Last year I had to find out what was the hype surrounding Jodi Picoult (who claims she has both critical and commercial success). Her books engage the reader, making the 400+ pages seem like 40, but from the first few pages, I cringed at her writing. Elementary mistakes distracted me from the story. I won't say she's not talented, but she's certainly not on par with the great writers that have preceded us.

All that to say, I still read a mix of writers. I won't join any of the camps, but it is an interesting conversation. Will the average American read Don DeLillo? Maybe not. Will they read Faulkner outside of the classroom? What about Flannery O'Connor? Or does the average American only read Stephen King, John Grisham, and the stock romance writers? Are books for entertainment, education, moral value, or enlightenment? What about awe? Some say it's good enough to get people reading. Others say the reader should have to work to uncover the gems What do you say?

Anyway, I like Dave Eggers writing.  I'll have to look into some of his other stuff.

I started reading "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius" by Dave Eggers today.  I'm doing this, because I like to read and I finished "Amerika" by Kafka last week. "Amerika" was good.  I liked it better than "The Trial".  Not entirely sure why, but just perhaps because I can relate to it a bit more.  I'm not at all saying I moved from one country to another across a great ocean sometime in the late 19th century.  But I'm more familiar with the story of that type of man than I am with 19th century Czechslovakia and it's law.

I've run out of books that I own that I haven't read, so while at Laura's house this morning, I noticed it on the shelf and asked to borrow it.  She obliged.  So I found myself today on the couch reading while trying to avoid the sweltering heat outside with the AC and fan going inside.  However, the AC's a piece of crap and doesn't actually much cold air.  So it was basically just as bad inside as outside.

I was reading.  And listening to music.  This Will Destroy You in fact - in case you were wondering.  I'm not too far into the book so far.  I took a nap somewhere, sometime and watched a bit of television, and did lunch with Alaina at the Mustard Seed.  But I'm not far in, and I fear this book will be difficult to get through.  The narrator is already talking about him mom's cancer and taking care of her.  And I've been in those situations; where my mom didn't get off the couch or out of bed; where my mom couldn't consume any food.

I've been thinking about her a lot lately.

Authors Michael Chabon, Dave Eggers and Barbara Kingsolver are among the editorial board members for the new club, which offers a selection of works each month, at discounts from 10 percent to 40 percent, and perhaps up to 80 percent. For most sales, the club will donate $2 on the member's behalf to a range of educational, environmental and other organizations.

The Web site, http://www.ProgressiveBookClub.com, will also feature videos, audios, forums for debates, book reviews and recommendations.

By Dave Eggers

Published October 2006

McSweeney's

475 pp.

ISBN 1-932-41664-1

Date reviewed: May 8, 2007

Originally published in: The Daily Cardinal

When future generations pass judgment on this century, the harshest grade will most likely fall on the genocide in Africa. Decades of civil war have exterminated millions of people, reduced villages to ashen outlines and pushed entire native populations into different countries. The devastation is so vast, so all-encompassing that it is almost impossible for the human mind to conceive.

The reality is so massive that the only way to understand it is to break it down to the individual human level – which is exactly what Dave Eggers has done in his nonfiction novel “What is the What: The Autobiography of Valentino Achak Deng.” Through the voice of a Sudanese refugee who escaped the conflict, Eggers creates a stirring, vibrant and ultimately human story of survival against the odds.

Eggers traces Valentino’s path as one of the “Lost Boys of Sudan” – children who were displaced by the Sudanese civil war where both the government and rebel populations are willing to kill at the slightest mistake. Valentino and his fellow villagers march through Ethiopia and Kenya, seeking what little food and shelter is available in villages and refugee camps. Obstacles include predatory lions, starvation and the accompanying disease, and the feelings of loss that come from seeing everyone else die.

A lesser author would have turned Valentino’s story into a stereotype of heroism and determination, but Eggers – a noted journalist and author of award-winning novels such as “A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius” – is much better than that. Told in first-person narration, the entire novel feels like Valentino is sitting down across from the reader and detailing each struggle in a quietly introspective tone.

This personal voice is an ideal way to tell the story, as the language is unencumbered by self-important language or elaborate figures of speech. When Valentino describes his childhood experiences, he describes the thoughts that came to his mind at that moment – the first white men he sees are “the absence of a man” and the boys he travels with are mirrors for his own health.

Beyond their straightforwardness, the novel is fascinating for the humanity of Valentino. His refuge camp stories are not without hope, as he discusses his efforts to make himself useful to his various host families or to save the lives of others on the road. He can even be funny on occasion, with scenarios such as a rebel commander who always wears an absurd belt buckle or a whole classroom of Lost Boys overwhelmed by an attractive teacher – moments that are almost tragicomic when seen in the broader picture.

Valentino is not only human for the way he lightens up his stories, but for his honesty in describing his own problems and occasional ventures to the “precipice of self-loathing.” Once he has immigrated to America he is filled with guilt for seeing problems instead of praising his good fortune, and he is continually truthful about his struggles with culture shock. Even after everything he has survived, he believes ill fortune pursued him to America and perhaps spreads to others.

But despite all of his misfortunes and the horrors he has seen in his life, Valentino is never entirely broken. He wants to stay alive, wants to keep moving to tell these stories – and Eggers deserves tremendous credit for retelling them so eloquently. The world of Africa’s misfortune may be one the public has spent years ignoring, but after seeing it through Valentino Achak Deng’s perspective it is one a reader will be unable to forget.

Laurie's House - Sarah, Chrissy, Meg, Gail, Joan, Lily, Linda, Margot, Laurie.

Chicken Fajita's with green peppers, onions, cheese, tomato, guacamole. Pasta Salad with artichoke, tomato, and olive. Blue cheese pasta salad. Spring Rolls w/ peanut sauce. Fresh fruit salad w/ strawberries, pineapple and grapes. Potato and Green Bean Salad. "Pacific Sizzle" Salad. DQ Frozen Ice Cream Cake. Pina Coladas and Virgin Colada's.

Today I met one of the original Watoto children. His name is Bob and he’s just finishing up University at Makarere, Kampala’s largest public university. I was a bit caught off guard meeting Bob because I hadn’t really thought about the fact that Watoto has been around for 14 years now and that there are Watoto children that are in their 20’s by now… It just hadn’t occurred to me. So while feeling quite unprepared, I also felt extremely privileged. I was talking with a living, breathing success story of Watoto. Not only is he very cordial and well-spoken, he is an amazing artist.

The reason I met with Bob today was because there is a Watoto event coming up this Saturday called ‘Seen & Heard: A Day in the Life of a Watoto Child’ which includes an art and literary exhibition by Watoto children. The event is being held in celebration of the Day of the African Child, which takes place on June 16 every year across Africa. This is the first year Watoto has been involved. My co-worker Esther, head of PR at Watoto, is heading up the entire event and I am in charge of putting the exhibition together. So, Esther thought it would be beneficial for Bob, being not only a Watoto child but a fine arts major at Makerere, to submit a piece for the show. Brilliant…

Shown Above: The invitation and poster I designed for the event; The photo was taken of a Watoto child at Suubi children's village during one of my recent visits

Bob had a range of art styles from University in his portfolio: textiles, oil, pastel, woodcut, pencil drawings… All quite impressive. I can’t wait to see what he comes up with for the show – I know it will be incredible.

Before I met Bob, we had a Marketing Team meeting. Solange, Director of Marketing, went through some of the core values of both Watoto and the Marketing Team, all of which are scripture-based, including: punctuality, respect, teachable spirit, timekeeping, consideration of others, passion, excellence... Then, we watched ‘The Devil Wears Prada’. Yep – that’s right. I had actually never seen the movie. I loved it – and I left extremely motivated and full of ideas… and it just downright put me in a good mood.

After work, a few of us got together for Eugene's birthday. Eugene and his wife Glenda have been leading Watoto Children’s Choir tours for the past few years. This September they will take off for their 3^rd US tour. They are both from Ohio originally and they live just a floor above me in our apartment block. The plan was to meet up at Mamba Point Pizzeria at 6:30. I arrived at 6:40 and was the 4^th person to arrive. More people arrived sporadically over the next 30 minutes or so on, you know, African time. We had a very lovely evening talking and sharing stories over pizza and orange Fanta.

So now I’m back home. I did a load of laundry, washed a few dishes, made some hot honey/lemon water for my throat [it’s been a little sore the past couple days], and I’m about to read some more of a book I picked up at the bookstore over the weekend. The book is ‘What is the What’ by Dave Eggers about the life of Valentino Achek Deng, one of the Lost Boys of Sudan. I’m about 10 chapters in and it’s been a great read – I’d recommend it to anyone… Especially those curious about the journey of the Lost Boys, a group of about 20,000 boys from the age of 5 to 18 that traveled through Southern Sudan together in escape of civil war in search of refuge. Also, I’d recommend seeing the documentary ‘God Grew Tired of Us’, the journey of 4 of the Lost Boys from Africa to city life in the US.

Aaaah. Such a great day… And I know there are many more to come.

At the same time, it would also be nice to make clear the mistake Laura in casting has made, to have our cameo make clear who the real stars are, stars who far outshine this dowdy Judd person -- we the brilliant ringed planets, he just a tiny, cold moon. (245)

Very nice.  He's talking, by the bye, about the casting agent who decided not to feature him on MTV's The Real World.  That's profligacy of talent for you.

On the other hand, I'm reminded of a luminary in my personal pantheon, Milan Kundera, who is incredibly more parsimonious with his metaphors.  There is a place in Testaments Betrayed where he castigates the translators of Kafka for muddling Kafka's rare, spare, hugely meaningful metaphors.  For instance, one time in The Castle, K. is having sex with a woman on the floor of a bar, and Kafka describes him in terms of a foreigner wandering blindly in an unknown country.  Brilliant.  The fate of the casual lover is at once, electrically, united with that of the exile, and in one paragraph, Kafka has dealt with some of the major themes of the modernist age.  

So my question is: which is better?  Not Kafka vs. Dave Eggers, obviously; I think that one's pretty much settled, good as the latter is.  But who deserves more respect -- the virtuoso who can drop metaphors the way Sviatoslav Richter dropped notes in his Sofia recital (i.e. they make the final product even more impressive), or the brilliantly conservative minimalist who makes every single metaphor a sort of climax within the novelistic texture?  Or are they simply two different but equally respectable modes of expression, like blues and jazz?

Your thoughts are welcomed, nay, encouraged.

Sarah Manguso’s now released a book of fiction, two of poetry, and, on May 27th from FSG, her memoir The Two Kinds of Decay. You are (for now) forgiven if you don’t know who she is: two books of poetry do not, from what I can tell, offer many writers something as tough to come by as name recognition. Her book of fiction, Hard to Admit and Harder to Escape is one of the three books that came included in 145 Stories in a Small Box, published by (who else) McSweeney’s (there are more than 145 stories in the box, for the record)(the other two books are by Eggers and Deb Olin Unferth (whose next book is coming from McSweeney’s this fall) and yes, all three books are fantastic, and yes, the set’s worth your money). All of which is just to say: Manguso’s arriving, meaning now, meaning perk up, buy her books, read her and pay attention.

The Two Kinds of Decay is a memoir of what seems to me one of the most fucking brutally nasty diseases ever, a rare, chronic form of Guillain-Barre syndrome called chronic idiopathic demyelinating polyradiculoneuropathy. I am, for good or bad, squeamish: I get icked out quickly, and I squirm at even physical description of body/health related stuff, and so I cannot say for sure what Guillain-Barre or the CIDP form does to the body, not in any detail. Manguso went from feeling a little bad to not being able to breathe (well or deeply) to not being able to move (much at all), and to discover the malady doctors prodded the shit out of her took tests and ran blood from her body through a machine which removed her platelets and eventually stuck a main line directly into one of her arteries so they (doctors) could take blood whenever they wanted and even writing that now, weeks after reading it, makes me get goosebumpy.

But the just knock-you-on-your-ass part about Manguso’s writing is how unbelievably scrubbed and tough the words are. It’s weird, but the sentence I want to write is that there’s no self-pity in the whole book, and while that’s certainly true, it’s hard to even comprehend the feat of mental strength that’d require. It’s not even worth speculating on whether or not Manguso had why me moments throughout her entire time with this disease (which, by the way, destroyed much of her twenties, and which is incurable, meaning she’s in remission), what’s devastating is her ability to look so coolly at her own life and body and report not even from the frontline, but from within the frontline.

Though there’s a Didion-esque sort of objectivity to Manguso’s writing, there are moments of gut-wrenching, real basic human stuff that just floors you and jolts you to the realization that, yes, you’re reading about a body that went through an atrocious, hideous thing, but you’re also very much reading about a human being, a life. It sounds stupid to write it like that, or it feels stupid anyway: we sort of know this stuff, intellectually, but when you get to, for instance, the moment in the book in which Manguso describes one of her nurses marking on a form that Manguso’s color is naturally pale (the details of the scene are not easily compressible, plus just read the book—it’s page 78-79), a moment of real basic person-to-person generosity and connection, it’s enough to make you weep. No joke at all.

Manguso’s sentences are compact and scarily shining, and the structure of the book fits her writing perfectly. Chapters are short—a few paragraphs to a handful of pages—and the chapters are blocks of text, independent, disconnected. What’s most incredible, I think, about the structure is how Manguso basically allows/forces the reader to connect the text her- or himself, and how that feeling of agency brings (I think) the reader in incredibly closely to a story she/he/(very much I) might otherwise try to keep some distance from.

This book’s gonna/should get rapturous praise, and, yes, it’ll deserve every word. It’s a demanding book, and it’ll (likely) make you physically uncomfortable. Much more important is that the book’s astoundingly beautifully written and is almost freakishly wise and has more guts and heart than any other two dozen books I can think of off the top of my head. Read it and, if you’re the sort of person who does this stuff, pray for Manguso and for readers: that she stays well and that she keeps writing and that we get to keep reading.