Let me start by saying I've liked some of Dave Eggers's work. I read AHWOSG the week it was released. I thoroughly enjoyed You Shall Know Our Velocity. The Circle was okay. Zeitoun was excellent. So I'm familiar with his oeuvre.
But a problem that began rearing its head in the Circle has metastasized in Heroes of the Frontier: Eggers CANNOT write believable characters.
I will provide you some examples. Sadly, there are flashes of Eggers's creativity in his prose. For instance, the first time he describes young Paul, he says he has "ice-priest eyes." That's nice. The problem is that Eggers's seems to KNOW it's interesting. So he literally uses the phrase dozens of times again as if he's Homer talking about "rosy-fingered dawn." Paul is a leitmotif, but he's supposed to be a PERSON. Paul is eight. The older brother of sickly and wild Ana. I'm not sure if Eggers has children or if he's ever met one, but he'd like us to believe that Paul is the Dalai Lama. So we get this: "The boy was freakish in his devotion to [Ana]...every night he created some new song for hero lull her to sleep. 'Ana is sleepy now, Ana is sleepy, all the Anas in the world are so sleepy now, they hold hands and drop away...' He was a startling lyricist, really, at four, five, six." Do you see? Eggers realizes what he's saying is unbelievable. So he labels the devotion "freakish" and his lyrical talent "startling" because he KNOWS the reader isn't going to buy what he's selling. I think at times Eggers falls too much in love with his own prose voice and sacrifices characterization for it. The lyrics ARE startlingly poetic. Nice job making them up Mr. Eggers. But you can lay them aside for a poem you're writing. Don't try to force them into the mouth of a child.
Here's a scene where Paul tries to soothe Ana after she's injured in a restaurant bathroom: "Paul always knew. He knew everything--every event, every truth involving Ana. He was her personal coach, her historian, assistant, caretaker, guardian, and best friend...'I'll get the first aid kit,' Paul said...Josie knew her son, only eight, could do this. He could find a waitress, ask for the first-aid kit, bring it back...He was so calm and responsible and composed that Josie considered him, most of the time, her peer." Finally, he gets the kit, finds a bandage, but omnisciently realizes that Ana wants some sort of poultice applied before the bandage. So, "in seconds, he had some kind of lotion in his hands, and was rubbing it between his palms. 'Let's make it warm first,' he said." C'mon! This is particularly unbelievable because Paul's only parenting model is Josie about whom we're given this gem while she lets her children run along a lake in Alaska: "This was Josie's preferred method of parenting: go someplace like this, with grand scale...and watch your children wander and injure themselves but not significantly. Sit and do nothing...Socrates invented the ideal method for the parent who likes to sit and do very little." Right. But here's the problem. The whole reason the family is ON this little voyage is because Josie supposedly can't stand what the childrens’ prim and proper community was doing to them. She's supposedly supremely concerned about the influence of the "bourgeois values" of her childrens' school and friends. You can't have it both ways.
There are moments like this throughout. Like the time Mr. Eggers would like us to forget Holden Caulfield's zen koan from Catcher in the Rye, "where do the ducks go in the winter?" Paul, suddenly alarmed, wakes Josie to ask her "Where do the stray dogs go at night?" I felt sick after I read that. Worse, is Josie's response. What does she say to this whiz-bang ball of precocity? "The stray dogs...all live together in a clubhouse. And this clubhouse was built by Alaskan park rangers because the stray dogs, being pack animals, prefer to live together. They're fed there, she said, three meals a day, by the rangers--omelets for breakfast, sausage for lunch, steak for dinner. Paul smiled shyly. Someone who did not know Paul would assume he knew this was all made up...but that was not the meaning of Paul's smile. No. Paul smiled because something that was wrong in the world had been righted. Paul's smile confirmed the true north of the moral world: How could he have doubted the preeminence of order and justice?"
Sorry. Here's another example. Josie and the kids are invited on a cruise by an elderly stranger to watch a magic show (which starts as soon as they board the ship of course!) Josie is watching the show. People aren't applauding the first magician's tricks. So we get this bit of characterization which sounds like it was done as a creative writing class exercise. Watch again as Eggers realizes mid-breath, as he does with Paul's lyrics, that what he just said is IMPOSSIBLE and tries to adjust for it: "Josie began to feel for this man. He'd been a magician in grade school no doubt. He'd been pretty then, with lashes so long she could see them now, fifty rows back, and as an adolescent, apart from his peers but not concerned about this." Of course, this is supposed to show us more about Josie than the magician. It's not the flight of day dreaming that's problematic. We all "people watch" and make up stories. It's the damn eyelashes. She obviously can't see them from fifty rows back, but Eggers is too much in love with the romance of this characterization to stop and make sure its foundation is plausible.
Following immediately upon this, Eggers is enamored with the joke? that one of the magicians is promised to be from Luxembourg. I'm not exaggerating when I say that over the course of the next five pages, the words Luxembourg and "Luxembourgian" are used at least ten times that I counted. I'm not sure why this is funny. I'm not sure why we're to believe that her two tiny children would find this hilarious and mysterious.
Then there's tiny Ana. She is described endlessly as destructive. She's a whirling dervish, and any time the trio arrives anywhere, Ana sets about trying to break and destroy things. Okay...it's as if Eggers HEARD that sometimes children are wild. Here's the explanation he provides for Ana's motivation: "Ana has never seen a gumball machine before, so how was it that she knew exactly how to harm one? And what had she imagined would be the results of her efforts--broken machine, a floor of glass and gum, punishment inevitable? What was the appeal? The only explanation was that she was receiving instructions from extra-planetary overlords." SERIOUSLY? This is obviously said tongue in cheek. The problem is that Eggers has created a character who doesn't make much sense. So though he's joking, the joke is an attempt to address the real problem of verisimilitude. Why not just dial it back rather than having to reach so embarrassingly?
On and on it goes. Josie roasts and jokes about her ex-husband's "shitting" a dozen times a day for reasons we're not aware of until the end of the book. It's just too easy and flimsy.
If you've read my reviews, you know I'm not in the habit of harshly dissecting another writer's craft. But I needed to warn you. I'm sure Eggers will sell thousands of books and continue with his literary success. I'm just starting to believe that after a few really great early books, he's lost what made them great.