A review by lenks
The Best American Nonrequired Reading 2012 by Dave Eggers
3.0
I came across this book in a little bookshop not far from the White House. I’d heard of the different collections before -- The Best American Short Stories, The Best American Essays -- but I’d never read any of them, so I figured this was my chance to change all that. That, and the book is edited by David Eggers and includes an introduction by Ray Bradbury, so yeah, I knew it would be pretty damned good.
I’m glad I bought the book. Although not all of the stories, essays, and other forms of writing contained in this collection are my cup of tea, this book introduced me to a lot of great work and a lot of new authors. My favorites included Saïd Sayrafiezadeh’s "Notes from a Bystander":
“But if my presence at protests embarrasses me, then my absence makes me feel guilty. This is also an unfortunate consequence of my childhood. Between these two realms there is neither compromise nor escape. As Occupy Wall Street stretched on, and as I followed it closely from the comfort of my couch, I tried to delude myself into thinking that my personal and private support was somehow a contribution to the cause. But absence, I know full well, contributes nothing to no one.”
Stephen Elliott’s letter:
“I have a suspicion that I will learn to live with the dizziness and because of this the dizziness will pass. We learn to live with all sorts of things. Like, ten years ago, following a sinus infection, I got tinnitus. My ears were always ringing and I wasn’t sure I could live with it. But it turned out I could live with it, and then I barely noticed anymore. Or sleeping in a youth shelter in a room with thirty other children. Or losing our mothers at an early age. Or, like the other day, I saw a girl I hadn’t seen in years. She was wearing a blue dress and her legs were naked and I swear I fell head over heels in love. It passed quickly, but you won’t convince me it wasn’t love just because it didn’t stick around.”
Eric Puchner’s "Beautiful Monsters":
“What do you think about when you’re old? the boy asks.
The man laughs. Home, I guess.
Do you mean the woods?
Childhood, he says, as if it were a place.”
Chaz Reetz-Laiolo’s "The Love Act":
“Our own sleep was mainly cold, a draft of unfinished arguments as we tossed under the blankets, our shins bumping and retreating from each other.”
and Wesley Yang’s "Paper Tigers":
“Often I think my defiance is just delusional, self-glorifying bullshit that artists have always told themselves to compensate for their poverty and powerlessness. But sometimes I think it’s the only thing that has preserved me intact, and that what has been preserved is not just haughty caprice but in fact the meaning of my life.”
I also loved Kevin Brockmeier’s "A Fable for the Living," Julie Otsuka’s "The Children," and of course George Saunder’s "Tenth of December." Even if you have no intention to buy or read this book, I’d recommend trying to find these fine pieces of writing online.
I’m glad I bought the book. Although not all of the stories, essays, and other forms of writing contained in this collection are my cup of tea, this book introduced me to a lot of great work and a lot of new authors. My favorites included Saïd Sayrafiezadeh’s "Notes from a Bystander":
“But if my presence at protests embarrasses me, then my absence makes me feel guilty. This is also an unfortunate consequence of my childhood. Between these two realms there is neither compromise nor escape. As Occupy Wall Street stretched on, and as I followed it closely from the comfort of my couch, I tried to delude myself into thinking that my personal and private support was somehow a contribution to the cause. But absence, I know full well, contributes nothing to no one.”
Stephen Elliott’s letter:
“I have a suspicion that I will learn to live with the dizziness and because of this the dizziness will pass. We learn to live with all sorts of things. Like, ten years ago, following a sinus infection, I got tinnitus. My ears were always ringing and I wasn’t sure I could live with it. But it turned out I could live with it, and then I barely noticed anymore. Or sleeping in a youth shelter in a room with thirty other children. Or losing our mothers at an early age. Or, like the other day, I saw a girl I hadn’t seen in years. She was wearing a blue dress and her legs were naked and I swear I fell head over heels in love. It passed quickly, but you won’t convince me it wasn’t love just because it didn’t stick around.”
Eric Puchner’s "Beautiful Monsters":
“What do you think about when you’re old? the boy asks.
The man laughs. Home, I guess.
Do you mean the woods?
Childhood, he says, as if it were a place.”
Chaz Reetz-Laiolo’s "The Love Act":
“Our own sleep was mainly cold, a draft of unfinished arguments as we tossed under the blankets, our shins bumping and retreating from each other.”
and Wesley Yang’s "Paper Tigers":
“Often I think my defiance is just delusional, self-glorifying bullshit that artists have always told themselves to compensate for their poverty and powerlessness. But sometimes I think it’s the only thing that has preserved me intact, and that what has been preserved is not just haughty caprice but in fact the meaning of my life.”
I also loved Kevin Brockmeier’s "A Fable for the Living," Julie Otsuka’s "The Children," and of course George Saunder’s "Tenth of December." Even if you have no intention to buy or read this book, I’d recommend trying to find these fine pieces of writing online.