Tell Me A Story, Dave

Dave Eggers is one of my new favorite authors (Mish, don’t hate me). I love his sarcastic undertones and sense of humor, and I also appreciate the way that he can get serious about things when he needs to — and then pull back with a one-liner. It’s comforting for me to read about his difficulties in that way because I find that I often use the same coping methods when I talk about serious things, albeit without as keen a sense of comedic timing. I would say that I need to find this man and marry him so that he can just tell me funny things all day, but that would be weird because of the age gap (Or are large age gaps trendy now? I don’t know.).

Though he has a pretty standard “voice” throughout the novel, which we’ve talked about in class as one that is intelligent, witty, sometimes racist, and oftentimes overzealous, Eggers mixes different tones in his writing.

One example of this, which happens to be one of my favorite sections, is his script of a typical conversation between himself and a school mother. Eggers uses italics, parenthesis, and normal type so that the reader can decipher between what he is thinking and what he actually says. His answers to the mother in the script are what you would hope he would say for the sake of social norms, but his thoughts are mocking yet answer the question.

MOTHER 

(grabbing BROTHER’s forearm)  

Oh, I’m so sorry.

  

BROTHER 

No, no, don’t worry. 

(wanting to add, as he sometimes does, “It wasn’t your fault.” He loves that line, especially when he tacks on: “Or was it?”) (100-101)

That passage tells so much about his character. We get that he is biting and somewhat bitter that people ask him the same questions over and over, but we also can tell that he understands that such questions are human nature. He answers mostly in truth, but the reader sympathizes with him (even though that is not his goal here) and realizes the reasoning he has behind the bitterness. The reader forgives him for making snide internal comments because he is doing something really hard: taking care of a child. He undercuts the formality of the situation with his humor.

Another interesting tone shift Eggers makes, which I think contrasts well with the one described above, is his ability scene set. When Eggers describes his surroundings he gives a great illustration with his own flair with exaggeration. I don’t think I’ve ever been left unclear about his setting.

“We drive past Half Moon Bay and Pacifica and Seaside, the condos on the left and the surfers on the right, the ocean exploding pink. We pass through cheering eucalyptus and waving pines, cars reflect wildly as they come at us, they seem to come right for us, and I look through their windshields for the faces of those coming for us, for a sign, for their understanding, for their trust, and I find their trust and they go by. Our car thrums loudly and I turn up the radio because I can.” (53)

Eggers tells us what his surroundings look like, who he is with, what they are doing; I have picture immediately with the eucalyptus, pine, pink ocean, cars reflecting, and the radio. He takes it one step further, as only he can, with “waving,” “exploding,” and “cheering.” Of course I can’t ignore the scenario he poses as well, that these random people driving by actually recognize his life’s story and trust him. He knows they don’t. We know they don’t. When he inflates the truth, he becomes breathless and hopeful and excited. And I can relate to that as a reader because he is honest about the wild ideas in his head; we all have them, but he says them.

This works well with the tone mentioned previously because it puts his thoughts almost in reality, more so than his parenthetical sarcasm does. We see a “real” play-out of his thoughts in these descriptive instances. Whatever his tone, he is purposeful, aware, and he puts it all out there for us to take in. And I love it.