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You see, I am no longer accustomed to reading book-length works. While I once devoured three or four books per week, it now takes all the energy I can muster to get through my weekly ration of New Republics, New Yorkers and Newsweeks. I confess that I read Mr. Eggers' very fine new book as I might a magazine, i.e., skipping around, perversely reading from back to front, reading as I fell asleep in bed after taking two Xanaxes. I read chapters out of order, took no notes and in a moment of panic skimmed several chapters for my own name (which, to my relief, I did not find). And I may have inadvertently overlooked a chapter. Readers should bear all of this in mind and remember that this book review, like all book reviews, is merely one person's opinions. In my case, these opinions were arrived at under other-than-ideal circumstances.

A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius By Dave Eggers Simon & Schuster, 375 pages Nonfiction Buy this book at B&N.com

Not, of course, that my opinions matter much at this stage; I have no illusions. In no way can this review harm Mr. Eggers, something that I, as a fellow writer, instinctively wish to do. The New York Times' Michiko "She Won't Like It, She Hates Everything" Kakutani loved Mr. Eggers' very fine new book, calling it a "virtuosic piece of writing" and Mr. Eggers "staggeringly talented." (I didn't read Ms. Kakutani's review; these quotes were lifted from a later New York Times piece by a writer named Sarah Lyall. If they are inaccurate, Ms. Lyall is at fault.) The Wall Street Journal also heaped praise on Mr. Eggers' very fine new book in Weekend Journal, an arts, living and real estate section recently added to that publication. (Friday's Wall Street Journal is now a must-read among the film-going, book-reading, estate-buying set.)

Further evidence that Mr. Eggers has nothing to fear from me: "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius" recently appeared on the New York Times bestseller list. This is an indication of robust sales, of course, but also an indication that the film rights to "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius" have already been sold, or will be shortly. This places Mr. Eggers in the uncomfortable position of further profiting -- he was paid $100,000 to write the book, he admits in his foreword -- from the tragic deaths of both his parents, the unhappy event that opens "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius." Unhappier still, the sale of the film rights places Mr. Eggers in the excruciating position of having to discuss who should portray him in the upcoming film adaptation of his very fine new book.

(For reasons obvious to anyone who reads "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius," or to anyone who remembers Mr. Eggers' very fine, if short-lived, magazine Might, Mr. Eggers is doubtless sick to death of being told he should be portrayed by former child star Adam Rich. If you have an opportunity to discuss the upcoming film of Mr. Eggers' very fine new book with the author, you would be well advised not to bring up Adam Rich. If you do, Mr. Eggers has every right to lose patience and retaliate by making a cutting remark about your appearance.)

After being assigned this review, I spent some time pondering why a writer so singularly unqualified to review a book was nevertheless asked to review this particular book. The only reason that made any sense was that Mr. Eggers and I have something in common: Mr. Eggers' very fine new book is a memoir about becoming, in effect, a parent. I recently wrote a memoir about becoming, in actuality, a parent. All similarities end there, however, for Mr. Eggers and I became parents under wildly different circumstances: My boyfriend and I adopted an infant; despite having two older siblings, Mr. Eggers took on the task of raising his 7-year-old brother, Toph, after their parents died of unrelated cancers within a few weeks of each other.

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