h, the backlash. The resistance to put up with anything praised by the public. The desire to thrust forward a different opinion that bemoans the approval of the general public, to rise above the masses, claim your independence, and place your fist high in the air as a declaration of indifference to all things pop culture or deemed enjoyable by a large mass of people.

Yawn. How typically predictable.

My little Carlisle, your unwillingness to show appreciation for things considered popular or hip simply reeks of hipness. There is nothing more satirical than a proponent of independence who spends actual time thinking about how different he is from others, not to mention one who decides to publicly flaunt his alternative desires in people's faces. It must have been so hard for you, Carlisle, so hard, to endure so much of Dave Eggers's literary celebrity before finally coming out of the popular culture closet.

Just think of how people felt in the 1940s when another young writer garnered a huge following with the success of his first book. Truman Capote was the toast of the New York literary crowd, and that made him subject to scorn from all manner of anti-culturites. All those people, faced with the jolly little imp that was Capote, making sure day after day to let their distaste be known. Can you see it? Can you see the tortured soul, writhing in his agony, consumed by his desire to let people know that he, the spokesperson for anti-spokespeople, did not like Truman Capote? But Truman Capote was popular! He was being called a literary prodigy! His book was selling like hotcakes! And this man, this man who was different, rebellious, looked down upon by others as the guy who did not like Truman Capote, why, look at him! He was so refreshingly honest, this man! He was the real genius! Bless this man and his rejection of…oh, jeez. I'm already tired of it.

Carlisle, your attempt to come clean as an, ahem, anti-Eggerite was so contrived it made me ache. You state the fact that Dave Eggers has done wonderful things in the literary world by publishing books that would not have been published elsewhere, putting out a smart and inventive literary journal, and having enough clout to get authors such as Haruki Murakami to write for McSweeney's for free. Yet still you insist that you do not find him engaging at all, and that is laughable. Carlisle, you are a part of it, but you are the worst part of it. You are the guy who dismisses things not because they are unworthy of praise, but because they have been praised in excess.

This guy, this Anti Guy, as I will call him, is the silliest of hipsters. Anti Guy once wore bowling shirts, but reviled them as soon as he saw other people wearing them. Anti Guy smoked cigars before it was a connoisseur's thing, after which he gave it up and started drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon because it was a brilliant juxtaposition to those snooty nosed hip types who took over the cigar world. Alas, PBR caught on and Anti Guy had to abandon that too. Now that other people were drinking it, it was far too hip for him. Remember, he drank it first. Anti Guy would have done yoga before it was popular, but Anti Guy is not the yoga type of guy.

Anti Guy is more the type of guy who hears someone mention that they are a vegetarian and proceeds to roll his eyes and say loudly, "People are so into being a vegetarian. I love meat. That makes people hate me. They think that I am a heathen because I eat steak. Veal. I love veal. Lookee! I love veal! Wheeee! Revel in my independence! I eat little cows that have been kept in pens! Isn't that terrible? You know you want to say something to me! Look at me! " Yeah, so he doesn't really say that last part, but it bleeds through his façade like gravy through a cheesecloth.

Give it up, Anti Guy. Dave Eggers is a tornado of a writer. A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius is a divine book. McSweeney's is the most delightful thing to hit the world of literary journals in decades. I read an advance copy of AHWOSG then read it again a month later when it was released in hardcover, I'll confess to that. I can even say that I read Might magazine in the early nineties, loved McSweeney's from issue #1, and knew about Dave Eggers before most other did, but none of that matters. What matters is that I know good writing when I see it, and I am aware of the fact that merely because many other people also like Eggers does not diminish his value.

Ever wonder how you would feel about Dave Eggers if he lived in a chicken shack and was so poor and unknown that he could afford to eat nothing but pudding? You would, Carlisle, love the man, I am sure. Perhaps then, you would have to spend your Anti Guy energy on something else. Murakami is gaining in popularity, you know. He just had another story published in the New Yorker. Soak him up while you can, Anti Guy, for soon you will be forced to find another.

Shall I celebrate this with a Pabst?

—Liz

	Carlisle seemed like such a nice guy. Who knew? "Are you sitting down? Good. I have something important to tell you. Here goes – I. Don't. Like. Dave. Eggers..." read the original article