You Shall Know Our Velocity
by Dave Eggers
McSweeney's Books

Dave Eggers' writing is intoxicating. It flies across the page, stopping to dance around a bit, not annoyingly so, just enough to put that extra pep in your step, from here to here, no, over there, back to here, where were we, off we go. There is something pure about the way Eggers writes; it all just kind of pours into you in a seemingly slapdash, breezy way that is anything but. After reading Dave Eggers' unmistakable voice for 300 pages, it's difficult to avoid subconsciously cribbing his style, talking in italics, parenthetical asides (no!), and spliced internal monologues.

— I think I may be laying it on too thick.
— You are.

It gets in your bones.

It is strange that Eggers is considered by many to be an "ironic" writer, for nothing could be further from the truth. Eggers' work is unabashedly sincere, hopeful and earnest. His heart is clearly in every word. It is as if he has so much to say, so much to give, he must blast it all out there, in one fantastic explosion that covers anything and everything, all at once, all separately.

You cannot say Eggers doesn't know his own strength. Eggers' go go go style is perfectly suited to his new book, "You Shall Know Our Velocity," self-published by Eggers' own McSweeney's Books, about a man who cannot stop moving. (The book's gorgeous design emphasizes this; text begins on the front cover, spills immediately onto the pasted-in inside page and doesn't stop until the inside back cover, where the acknowledgments replace the typical author bio.)

The plot is simple, like a dark, neurotic Crosby and Hope road movie. Two twentysomething Midwesterners, Will (the narrator) and Hand, still reeling from the tragic death of their best friend Jack, travel across the world, non-stop, hopping from country to country in the course of a week, in order to give away a large amount of cash Will unwittingly stumbled across. The goal, according to Will: "Now I would get rid of it, or most of it, and believed purging would provide clarity, and that doing this in a quick global flurry would make it — I actually don't know why."

And they fly. They go from Senegal to Casablanca to Morocco to London to Estonia to Denmark to Mexico City. "Velocity" chronicles their journeys. This premise, while admittedly thin, has two built-in advantages for Eggers: It provides exotic locales for two sheltered Americans to come across and describe for the first time and, most important, it allows for countless voyages inside Will's head, which is where all the book's action really happens.

Will is quiet and socially stunted, far more so than Hand and Jack, who had overshadowed him since birth. He is currently deformed, beaten almost beyond recognition in a random encounter while going through Jack's old apartment (a scene Eggers captures with palpable horror). He is 27, aimless, and without many attachments, save those with his mother and Hand. He is lost inside his own head, often losing track of conversations, trailing off, fighting his own demons.

I'll be talking, and will be interested in what I'm saying, but then someone — I'm convinced this is what happens — someone — and I wish I knew who, because I would have words for this person — for a short time, borrows my head. Like a battery is borrowed from a calculator to power a remote control, someone, always, is borrowing my head.

This is why Will must move, must run. Because if he stops, there is only dread inside, whether it's a extended uproarious reflection on a junior high dance and a first kiss, or a remembrance of childhood games with Hand and Jack, or a sad musing on an old girlfriend who required he talk dirty in bed (inevitably, he runs out of things to say, falling back on "Um … I'm … I'm … sinking your … tight, wet … battleship!"), or, in the book's most breathtaking passage, an eight-page internal conversation with the late Jack, who cannot answer, no matter how much Will screams.

But Will is so hopeful. He is not sure why, exactly, this journey is something he must do, but is nevertheless convinced he must. One of Eggers' most powerful qualities is his strong moral sense. Will is infused with this. He is always questioning: himself, this lunatic expedition, Hand — some of Hand's best dialogue takes place in Will's head — his life, his choices, the people he meets, the world that he learns has so much more than he had suspected.

This is no travelogue, however. In fact, one of the quieter ironies of "Velocity" is that it doesn't really matter where Will goes, as long as he is moving, as long he is quieting his head, as long as he is searching. Hand is there, fighting his own battles, but it's Will who is lost; the man who wasn't well before Jack's death is teetering on the precipice now.

Will's journey is doomed in practice, because one who must always keep moving is destined to find peace only in death. But Eggers takes great care not to make Will into some sort of martyr or symbol of human suffering. This is just a simple study. Will is confused, yes, and frantic, but by the end of the book, he finds that though he can't forever fight the demons below, he can certainly find victory in never losing that feeling that there has to be a reason, there has to be a right and a wrong, there has to be a proper way to live. In his own way, Will reigns triumphant.

Eggers, aware that his book isn't plot heavy (though this is of course not a fault), never lets us stop to breathe. The book zooms from one set piece to another. And every riff works, and it adds up to even something greater — a book about finding yourself by losing yourself. It's inspiring, sad, hysterical, and always, always heartfelt.

Eggers has taken his share of criticism since the publication of "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius," but it's difficult to understand why. He has started his own publishing company, supported underground writers, given generously to numerous charities, and, most vital, hasn't lost that fire, that desire to see the world and try to make sense of how to live. "Velocity" won't be the sudden, searing jolt to the public consciousness that "Staggering Genius" was, but its focus, compassion and spirit certainly reveal it as something better: his best work.

— Will Leitch (leitch@blacktable.com)