Dave Eggers had been known to me before this book. Some kind of hipster author, and the McSweeney’s guy, I’d heard one of his TED talks. One of my hip reader friends loves him. (He also did the novelization of the Where The Wild Things Are movie, which irks me in many ways.) Anyway, I hadn’t read anything by him and didn’t have much of an opinion on his writing. And then I read You Shall Know Our Velocity.
I just devoured this fucker on the plane to China. It’s a book about travel, and money and the pointlessness of both. Which is all well and good, and then this thing happens about 2/3 of the way through that made me rethink the way the whole thing had been going and added so much to the rest. That gets added to the list of books I wish I’d written. And maybe someday could have. If my Barstow book had been about something instead of just describing shit, it might have been something like this.
I gave my copy to Holly when I arrived and this past week when I got back to town I bought another (used) copy.