Not yet 30, Dave Eggers is already shaping up as the Andy Kaufman of New York letters. The buzz on his first book, due out next month, is so frenzied that The New Yorker has bought an excerpt, editors at Time are clamoring for him, and his hero, David Foster Wallace, has provided a back-cover blurb so effusive it’s almost embarrassing. It’s not all smooth, though – the book is a memoir spilling family secrets so sad and self-revelations so awful that he sometimes wishes he had never written it. – New York Magazine