A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius
Page 3
b) The Brotherly Love / Weird Symbiosis Factor This thread will be going throughout, and was as a matter of fact supposed to be the surprise conclusion reached at the end of the book, the big pay-off, as it were, that, while the author searches for love—there will be some episodes involving that—and his brother searches for, you know, whatever little kids search for (gum and pennies?) and together they try to be normal and happy, they actually will probably always be unsuccessful in any and every extracurricular relationship, given that the only people who they truly admire and love and find perfect are each other.
c) The Painfully, Endlessly Self-conscious Book Aspect
This is probably obvious enough already. The point is, the author doesn’t have the energy or, more important, skill, to fib about this being anything other than him telling you about things, and is not a good enough liar to do it in any competently sublimated narrative way. At the same time, he will be clear and up-front about this being a self-conscious memoir, which you may come to appreciate, and which is the next theme:
c.2) The Knowingness About the Book’s Self-consciousness Aspect While the author is self-conscious about being self-referential, he is also knowing about that self-conscious self-referentiality. Further, and if you’re one of those people who can tell what’s going to happen before it actually happens, you’ve predicted the next element here: he also plans to be clearly, obviously aware of his knowingness about his self-consciousness of self-referentiality. Further, he is fully cognizant, way ahead of you, in terms of knowing about and fully admitting the gimmickry inherent in all this, and will preempt your claim of the book’s irrelevance due to said gimmickry by saying that the gimmickry is simply a device, a defense, to obscure the black, blinding, murderous rage and sorrow at the core of this whole story, which is both too black and blinding to look at— avert.. .your.. .eyes!—but nevertheless useful, at least to the author, even in caricatured or condensed form, because telling as many people as possible about it helps, he thinks, to dilute the pain and bitterness and
thus facilitate its flushing from his soul, the pursuit of which is the basis of the next cluster of themes:
d) The Telling the World of Suffering as Means of Flushing or at Least Diluting of Pain Aspect
For example, the author spends some time later relating his unsuccessful, though just barely unsuccessful, attempt to become a cast member of The Real World in 1994, when the show’s third season was being filmed in San Francisco. At that point, the author sought to do two related things: 1) to purge himself of his past by trumpeting his recent life’s events to the world, and thus, by spreading his pain, his heartbreaking story, to the show’s thousands or millions of watchers, he would receive in return a thousand tidal waves of sympathy and support, and never be lonely again; and 2) To become well known for his sorrows, or at least to let his suffering facilitate his becoming well known, while at the same time not shrinking from the admission of such manipulations of his pain for profit, because the admission of such motivations, at least in his opinion, immediately absolves him of responsibility for such manipulations’ implications or consequences, because being aware of and open about one’s motives at least means one is not lying, and no one, except an electorate, likes a liar. We all like full disclosure, particularly if it includes the admission of one’s 1) mortality
and 2) propensity to fail. (Related, but not the same.)
e) The Putting This All Down as Tool
for Stopping Time Given the Overlap
with Fear of Death Aspect
and e)’s self-explanatory corollary,
e.2) In Addition to Putting This Down as Tool
for Stopping Time, the Sexual Rendezvous
with Old Friends or Grade School Crushes
as Tool for Collapsing of Time
and Vindication of Self-Worth
f) The Part Where the Author Either Exploits
or Exalts His Parents, Depending on Your
Point of View
g) The Unmistakable Feeling One Gets, After Something Truly Weird or Extraordinary, or Extraordinarily Weird, or Weirdly Terrible, Happens to Them, That in a Way They Have Been Chosen Aspect This of course happened to the author. After the double deaths, and his guardianship, he felt suddenly watched—he could not help but think, in much the same way someone who had been struck by lightning might, that he had somehow been singled out, and that his life was thereafter charged with purpose, with the gravest importance, that he could not be wasting time, that he must act in accordance with his destiny, that it was so plainly obvious that.. .that.. .he had been chosen...to lead!
h) The Aspect Having to Do with (Perhaps) Inherited Fatalism This part concerns the unshakable feeling one gets, one thinks, after the unthinkable and unexplainable happens—the feeling that, if this person can die, and that person can die, and this can happen and that can happen. . .well, then, what exactly is preventing everything from happening to this person, he around whom everything else happened? If people are dying, why won’t he? If people are shooting people from cars, if people are tossing rocks down from overpasses, surely he will be the next victim. If people are contracting AIDS, odds are he will, too. Same with fires in homes, car accidents, plane crashes, random knifings, stray gunfire, aneurysms, spider bites, snipers, piranhas, zoo animals. It’s the confluence of the self-centeredness discussed in G), and a black sort of outlook one is handed when all rules of impossibility and propriety are thrown out. Thus, one starts to feeling that death is literally around each and every corner—and more specifically, in every elevator; even more literally, that, each and every time an elevator door opens, there will be standing, in a trenchcoat, a man, with a gun, who will fire one bullet, straight into him, killing him instantly, and deservedly, both in keeping with his role as the object of so much wrath in general, and for his innumerable sins, both Catholic and karmic. Just as some police—particularly those they dramatize on television—might be familiar with death, and might expect it at any instant—not necessarily their own, but death generally—so does the author, possessing a naturally paranoid disposition, compounded by environmental factors that make it seem not only possible but probable that whatever there might be out there that snuffs out life is probably sniffing around for him, that his number is perennially, eternally, up, that his draft number is low, that his bingo card is hot, that he has a bull’s-eye on his chest and target on his back. It’s fun. You’ll see.
And finally:
i) The Memoir as Act of Self-destruction Aspect It can and should be the shedding of a skin, which is something one should do, as necessary and invigorating as the occasional facial, or colonic. Revelation is everything, not for its own sake, because most self-revelation is just garbage—oop!—yes, but we have to purge the garbage, toss it out, throw it into a bunker and burn it, because it is fuel. It’s fossil fuel. And what do we do with fossil fuel? Why, we dump it into a bunker and burn it, of course. No, we don’t do that. But you get my meaning. It’s endlessly renewable, usable without diminishing one’s capacity to create more. The author falls asleep shortly after he becomes drunk. The author has sex without condoms. The author falls asleep when he’s drunk having sex without condoms. There. That’s something. You have something. But what do you have!
1.2) The Easy and Unconvincing Nihilistic Poseurism Re: Full Disclosure of One’s Secrets and Pain, Passing It Off Under a Semi-high-minded Guise When in Fact the Author Is Himself Very Private About Many or Most Matters, Though He Sees the Use in Making Certain Facts and Happenings Public
i.3) The Fact That, Below, or Maybe Next to,
the Self-righteousness, and the Self-hatred,
Is a Certain Hope, Instilled Far Before Any
of This Happened.
There will also be these threads, which are all more or less self-explanatory:
j) The Flouting of Sublimation as Evidence of Enforced Solipsism Aspect
k) The Solipsism as Likely Result of Economic, Historical and Geopolitical Pr
ivilege Aspect
l) The Toph Dialectic: He Serving as Both Inspiration for and Impediment to Writing of Memoir
m) The Toph Dialectic II: He Serving as Both Magnet and, When the Need Arises, Wedge Vis-a-Vis Relations with Women
Similarly:
n) The Parental Loss Dialectic: in Terms of That Factor Lending Itself Well to Situations Necessitating the Garnering of Sympathy and Also to Those Requiring a Quick Exit
Not to mention:
o) The Aspect Concerning the Unavoidability, Given the Situation with Brother, of Near-Constant Poignance
p) The Self-aggrandizement as Art Form Aspect
q) The Self-flagellation as Art Form Aspect
r) The Self-aggrandizement Disguised as Self-flagellation as Even Higher Art Form Aspect
s) The Self-canonization Disguised as Self-destruction Masquerading as Self-aggrandizement Disguised as Self-flagellation as Highest Art Form of All Aspect
t) The Search for Support, a Sense of Community, If You Will, in One’s Peers, in Those One’s Age, After One Looks Around and Realizes That All Others, All Those Older, Are Either Dead or Perhaps Should Be Aspect
u) The Fact That T) Dovetails Quite Nicely with
G) ASPECT
Or, in graph form (next page):
THE DEATHS
MUCH THINKING
ABOUT THE TRIUMPH
OF HUMAN SPIRIT
IN PARTICULAR,
the incredible,triumphant rise of the Eggers brothers
IN GENERAL,
the triumph (or at least potential) of youth, and its preferentially over the aged and infirm
WANTING TO SAVE FRIENDS AND PEERS FROM DYING QUIETLY NEEDING, in lieu of extended family, this idea of “community” from peers
Etc.
MUCH THINKING ABOUT THE INEVITABILITY OF DECAY, AND
EARLY AND RANDOM DEATH, AND THE SHORT LIFE OF ANYTHING REAL OR BEAUTIFUL
IN WAKE OF
LOSS, desperate attempt to hold things together
CARELESSNESS BORN OF HOPELESSNESS
Sometime-failure to use condoms
CONSTANT CONTACT W/ GRADE SCHOOL FRIENDS FREQUENT CARNAL CONTACT WITH GRADE SCHOOL FRIENDS DUE TO
environmental factors in upbringing, innate sense that ideas of “community” are silly and soft
CONVENIENT
belief that sexual contact with peers and grade school friends strengthens this idea of “community”
Note: The above is actually part of a much larger chart, 18” X 24” (though not to scale), which maps out the entire book, mostly in type too small to read. It was supposed to be included with your purchase, but you know how these publishing companies are. It is instead available through the mail, at the address listed elsewhere in this section. The cost is $5. You will not be disappointed. Unless you are usually disappointed, in which case this will be yet another disappointment.
The author would also like to acknowledge what he was paid to write this book:
TOTAL (GROSS) . .........................$100,000.°°
DEDUCTIONS
Agent’s fee (15%).........................$15,000.°°
Taxes (after agent’s fee).....................$23,800.°°
EXPENSES RELATED TO PRODUCTION OF BOOK
Portion of rent, two years (btw$6oo&$i,5oo/mo) . . . appnx: $12,000.°°
Trip to Chicago (research).....................$850.°°
Trip to San Francisco (research).................$620.°°
Food (consumed while ostensibly writing)........$5,800.°°
Sundries.................................$1,200.°°
Laser printer...............................$600.°°
Paper....................................$242.°°
Postage (to send manuscript, for approval, to siblings Beth (somewhere in No. California), and Bill (an advisor to the Comptroller of Texas, in Austin), Kirsten (San Francisco, married), Shalini (living at home in L.A., doing well), Meredith Weiss (freelance wardrobe stylist, San Diego), Jamie Carrick (in L.A., part of management team for Hanson, a popular music outfit), “Ricky” (San Francisco, investment banker—high-tech IPOs), etc. etc.).....$231 °°
Copy of Xanadu Original Movie Soundtrack.........$14.32
Information retrieval service (unsuccessful attempt to
retrieve two years’ worth of journal entries from
external hard drive, expired)....................$75.°°
Net total.............................$39,567.68
Which still isn’t so bad, come to think of it^more than the author, who is not a pet owner, can spend. Therefore, he
pledges some of it to you, or at least some of you. The first 200 readers of this book who write with proof that they have read and absorbed the many lessons herein will each receive a check, from the author, for $5, drawn from a U.S. bank, probably Chase Manhattan, which is not a good bank—do not open an account there. Now: how to prove that you have bought and read the book? Let’s say we do this: Take the book, which you are required to have purchased*—enclose your receipt, or a copy of the receipt—and have someone take a picture of you reading the book, or maybe putting it to better use. Special consideration for a) the inclusion in the picture of a baby (or babies), as everyone knows that babies are nice; b) the inclusion in the picture of a baby with an exceptionally large tongue; c) pictures taken in exotic locales (with the book, remember); d) pictures of the book being rubbed against by a red panda, a small bear + raccoon-looking mammal, also known as the “lesser panda,” native of central China and frequent-rubber-againster of things for marking
It should go without saying that if you’ve checked this book out from the library, or are reading it in paperback, you are much, much too late. Come to think of it, you may be reading this far, far in the future—it’s probably being taught in all the schools! Do tell: What’s it like in the future? Is everyone wearing robes? Are the cars rounder, or less round? Is there a women’s soccer league yet?
of territory. Do NOT FORGET TO: center yourself, or whatever your subject, in the picture. If you’re using an auto-focus camera with a 35mm lens, get closer than you feel you should; the lens, because it’s convex, has the effect of backing you up 5-8 feet. Also: Keep your clothes on, please. Those readers who are savvy enough to have picked up a copy of one quarterly publication in particular will already know the most expeditious address to receive this free-ish money (though that address is only good until maybe August 2000), and will therefore be at an advantage, timewise. Otherwise, send your tasteful photographs to:
A.H.W.O.S.G. Offer
Vintage Books
299 Park Avenue
New York, NY 10171 If, by the time the author receives your letter, he has already distributed the 200 checks, good fortune may yet strike. If your picture is amusing or your name or hometown unfortunate-sounding, and you include a self-addressed stamped envelope, he will put something (not money) inside the envelope and will send it back, because he does not have cable, and needs diversion. Now.* The author would like to acknowledge your desire to get started with the plot, the body of the book, the story.
Interesting story: My father once related how he and his friend Les had come up with a way, when stalling for time in a meeting or deposition (he and Les were lawyers [Les, alive and well, still is a lawyer]), instead of saying “Urn.,.,” or “Uh...,” one could say “Now...,” a word which accomplishes two things: it serves the same stalling purpose as “Um...,” or “Uh...,” but instead of being dumb-sounding offputting, it creates suspense for what is coming next, whatever that might be, that which the speaker doesn’t yet know.
He will do that, and, contrary to what was said in D), he will be giving you, for a good 100 pages or so, uninterrupted, unself-conscious prose, which will entertain and make sad and, here and there, hearten. He will get on with that story any moment now, because he recognizes when the time has come, when the time is right, when the getting’s good. He acknowledges the needs and feelings of
a reader, the fact that a reader only has so much time, so much patience—that seemingly endless screwing about, interminable clearing of one’s throat, can very easily look like, or even become, a sort of contemptuous stalling, a putting-off of one’s readers, and no one wants that. (Or do they?) So we will move on, because the author, like you, wants to move on, into the meat of it, dive right in and revisit this stuff, because it’s a story that ought to be told, involving, as it does, death and redemption, bile, and betrayal. So dive in we will, after a few more acknowledgments. The author would like to acknowledge the brave men and women serving in the United States Armed Forces. He wishes them well, and hopes they come home soon. That is, if they want to. If they like it where they are, he hopes they stay there. At least until such time as they want to come home. Then they should come straight home, on the very next plane. The author would also like to acknowledge the makers of comic book villains and superheroes, those who invented, or
at least popularized, the notion of the normal, mild-mannered person transformed into mutant by freak accident, with the mutant thereafter driven by a strange hybrid of the most rancid bitterness and the most outrageous hope to do very, very odd and silly things, many times in the name of Good. The makers of comic books seemed to be onto something there. Now, in a spirit of interpretive glasnost, the author would like to save you some trouble by laying out a rough guide to a little over half of the metaphors in the book. (Next page.) The author would also like to acknowledge his propensity to exaggerate. And his propensity to fib in order to make himself look better, or worse, whichever serves his purposes at the time. He would also like to acknowledge that no, he is not the only person to ever lose his parents, and that he is also not the only person ever to lose his parents and inherit a youngster. But he would like to point out that he is currently the only such person with a book contract. He would like to acknowledge the distinguished senator from Massachusetts. And Palestinian statehood. And the implicit logic of the instant replay rule. And that he too is well aware of all of the book’s flaws and shortcomings, whatever you consider them to be, and that he tips his hat to you for noticing them. And come to think of it, he would actually like to acknowledge his brother Bill after all; his brother Bill is such a good man. And this book’s gracious and trusting editor, Geoff Kloske, and Mr. Kloske’s assistant, Nicole Graev, who has her vowels transposed but is otherwise very nice. Also C. Leyshon, A. Quinn, J. Lethem, and V. Vida, for the assuaging of fears, not to mention Adrienne Miller, John Warner, Marny Requa and Sarah Vowell, whose readings of this book before it was readable were much appreciated (even though, come to think of it, the author did toss Warner $100, which makes his acknowledgment kind of unnecessary). And once again, all the people who star in this story, especially Mr. C.M.E., who knows who he is. Finally, the author would also like to acknowledge the men and women of the United States Postal Service, for performing a sometimes thankless task with great aplomb and, given the scale and scope of the endeavor, with stunning efficiency.