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Shunned by Dave Eggers

Tonight I was shafted by Dave Eggers.

Eggers, editor of the literary quarterly McSweeney’s, and author of A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius and, most recently, You Shall Know Our Velocity!, gave a reading tonight in Toronto.

In the dilapidated old (and, according to the word of the evening, deconsecrated) Berkley Church, Eggers talked passionately about his youth writing centre, 826 Valencia and read one of the works written by a group of special education students.  The story itself was a mock screenplay that involved raising trillions of dollars to save the world for the president of the United States ("you must be tripping, Mr. President!").  Eggers’s reading of the story brought out not just the humour in the childrens’ writing, but the earnesty and passion as well.

And despite whatever people thought of Dave Eggers before the reading, there was not a single person in the church whom he didn’t endear himself to after speaking about what is obviously a very personal and important project.

After reading another story, a short piece of scatalogical fiction told from the perspective of an oversexed, 13-year old with no attention span (something far more juvenile than he should be proud of, according to Mr. E himself), Dave answered a series of questions from the crowd of 20-something hipsters and then was ushered to a table to commence the book signing.

We didn’t have to wait very long, but my friend and I couldn’t help but notice that Dave took the opportunity to not only sign whatever items people had, but to also engage in conversation, which was very polite and generous considering the size of the audience.

So we’re next in line.  Dave Eggers is chatting up what I can only describe as literary groupies: three attractive young women obviously charmed by the magnetic and handsome author.  Finally my friend and I approach the table to have our books signed.

Matthew has his books signed and exchanges a few jokes with Dave, shakes his hand and gracefully thanks him for his time. 

And now it is my turn!  I ask Dave to make it to John, he makes sure to ask if that’s with an ‘h’ (I decide not to make the usual joke of, “No, it’s with a ‘J’") and then, as I attempt to shake his hand and thank him for being so entertaining, he turns his head and talks to some woman who has creeped up beside him to ask him something.

My hand remains outstretched, and I mutter something along the lines of “thanks for the..thing.. with the… whoozit...and the...”

Dave Eggers has forgotten that I am standing in front of him.  He is oblivious to what I am saying to him.  He certainly doesn’t see that I have my hand open to him in a gesture of goodwill.  No.  All Dave Eggers can focus his attention on is the blonde woman crouching beside him who no doubt has matters of grand importance to discuss.

I am shunned by Dave Eggers.  With the little pride I have left, I withdraw my unmet handshake, retrieve my copy of Staggering Genius and walk away.  Looking at his autograph, I see Dave has drawn an image of some type of ring and attached a mysterious adage: “This is how I left it.”

So with my head hung low, my hand unshaken, my praise unheard, this is how I left Dave Eggers.