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BIBLIO FILE
Desperately seeking Dave

BY CHRIS WRIGHT

Don’t pity Dave Eggers. Since the demise of his humor magazine, Might, a few years ago, he has done pretty well for himself. In fact, he has done ludicrously well for himself. His latest project, the satirical quarterly McSweeney’s, has a large, devoted following and is now branching out into publishing. His funny, poignant memoir, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, achieved that rare fusion of critical acclaim and popular demand, selling 300,000 copies to date and inspiring New Line Cinema to fork over $2 million for movie rights.

It’s a measure of Eggers’s renown that, months after the publication of his memoir, a tour to promote the paperback edition has sparked a stampede for tickets. Not only did Eggers entertain a packed house at the Brattle last Monday, April 9, but at the end of the night the crowd trudged, en masse, over to WordsWorth bookstore to hear more. Fans of Britney Spears could not have been any more devoted than this backpack-toting band of Eggersheads.

But not everyone is smitten. At 30, Eggers has gained a reputation as a bit of a curmudgeon — “the J.D. Salinger of Generation X.” Certain members of the press, in particular, have taken on an anti-Eggers tone, mainly because he has made it clear that he wants little to do with them. He will conduct interviews only via email. He asks to see stuff before it’s printed. And if he doesn’t like what’s written about him, he has no qualms about airing his grievances in public. Eggers recently exacted revenge on an errant New York Times writer by publishing the reporter’s groveling pre-interview emails (www.mcsweeneys.net/news/clar_nytimes.html). It was an ugly, hilarious, bloodcurdling episode. As Slate magazine puts it, “If you were a reporter, would you accept an assignment to interview [Eggers]?”

The question is, will Eggers consent to an interview with you? He will. But only via email.

Q: Dave, I really enjoyed your book, The Unbearable Lightness of Being. Will you do an interview with me?

A: [No response]

Q: What if I give you full editorial control of not only this story, but everything I write for the next six months?

A: That’s what I would want, sure, but I do want to just get one minor point straight before we go on ...

Q: Oh please please please ...

A: Fine. Sure.

Q: The voice in your book is an intriguing blend of the childlike and the worldly. It’s part David Foster Wallace and part Holden Caulfield. Do you ever write in the nude?

A: I spent some time at Naddo, a nude writer’s colony modeled after places like Breadloaf and ... that other one. It was surprisingly undistracting.

Q: Do you consider yourself primarily a writer, an editor, or a rock star?

A: Firstly, I am a doctor.

Q: Off the record: what’s the most disgusting thing you’ve ever had in your mouth?

A: Placenta.

Q: Did you have a nickname in school?

A: Sparky.

Q: Is it true you make people pay to have their pictures taken with you?

A: That money, a mere $25 per picture ($15 for each additional person in frame), goes directly to charities devoted to keeping me looking pasty. This look does not come cheap.

Q: Why are you always arguing with journalists?

A: My cat died, and I needed someone to absorb my rage.

Q: Do you argue with people in shops and fast-food restaurants?

A: Only when they lie.

Q: Are you the most famous person you know?

A: I know Dyan Cannon. Very well.

Q: Are you aware that everyone in New York knows someone who knows you?

A: Masons are well connected. I am a mason. In addition to being a doctor. And a lover of Dyan Cannon.

Q: What’s an average day in the life of Dave Eggers — if that’s your real name — like?

A: I sit and wait for your questions. I answer them. I have relations with Dyan Cannon. I rest.

Q: You think you’re better than me, don’t you?

A: For you I have only pity. Never scorn.

Q: Can I send you a manuscript?

A: Yes. I look forward to seeing it, along with your $200 reading fee.

Issue Date: April 12 - 19, 2001