Things The GrandChildren Should Know (By Mark Oliver Everett)

Review by Casey Dorrell (The Semantic, Vol 1. Issue 5)

1. How to swim; they might have a lot of saltwater on their hands;

2. How to ride a horse; they might not have anything to run a car on;

3. How to breed waterhorses.

Everett, the author of the Things the Grandchildren Should Know, does not offer this sage advice. In fact, after reading the entire work, I was unable to uncover any advice for grandchildren. This was, perhaps, an attempt by Everett to skirt the troubling issue that everyone is a grandchild and without a possessive qualifier such as “my” or “your” the advice would need to address all save for freaky lab babies and robots. Everett has declined comment on these allegations. Of course, this may be as result of not being contacted by myself, but he hasn't confirmed this either.

What's offered instead in Things the Grandchildren Should Know is an autobiography written by Everett, better known as E, better still known as the essentially one-man band, Eels, better finally known as the band in those Shrek movies and O.C. mixes. Eels, despite achieving considerable critical and commercial success, have fostered a cult following that stops just short of mainstream recognition. Known for a melancholy style of music, Eels' magnum opus is their 1998 album, “Electro-Shock Blues,” a conceptual album about life in the face of death written by Everett after the suicide of his older sister and impending death of his mother from incurable cancer.

Not that Everett is a tragic figure like his late friend, Elliott Smith. He is as much known for his eccentricity and irreverence as for his sad life. This is the artist whose dog has more myspace friends than you and who, when asked to give a quote for the jacket of Cobain's posthumously released diaries, responded, “Please don't do this to me after I kill myself”. It's the personal nature of Everett's work, and the personal tragedy therein implied, combined with his eclectic spirit that makes the autobiography intriguing. That, and a natural curiosity as to whether brilliance in song lyricism can translate to the same in longer written works.

The short answer is no. Although Everett has been described as the “Vonnegut of the rock world,” Vonnegut remains the Vonnegut of the literary world. Everett adopts a simple, easy to read writing style that may not hold its own against the likes of, say, Bertrand Russell, but it easily stands up to most rock biographies. The writing is adequate, not spectacular, but it's enough to get the story across. And it's a poignant, if bizarre story. In short, Everett has lived a life surrounded by death and unstable girlfriends.

Seriously, a ridiculous number of people around Everett have met their end - his sister, mother, father, landlady, roadie, elderly friend, cousin, the list goes on. He's like Jessica Fletcher (a Murder She Wrote reference, kids), eventually people are going to start wondering why everyone around Everett dies. And the girlfriend issue, it isn't sexism; it's just that Everett makes romantic decisions that would seem a little questionable to most of us. Unable to pick up in class or at parties, then why not give a try at mental health facility operating in a German Castle run by a doctor who moonlights as a salad factory operator. Better yet, why not marry the first girl you meet there. (They are now divorced).

Taken simply as a narrative, it's a compelling story that won't demand a lot of time to read. Still, it suffers toward the end, where Everett jumps back and forth in tense and adopts an “aw shucks, I guess everything is just swell after all” attitude. This probably won't be enough to tip the balance in favour of not reading the autobiography. In fact, if you aren't a person prone to exceptional bitterness like myself, you'll probably enjoy its life-affirming theme. But the optimism remains troubling for fans, as it might lead us to an Eels album devoid of angst. Since this is impossible, we can only assume someone close to Everett is about to die. I'd like to stress to whoever is in charge of these things, I do not know the guy. I've never even seen him live, I swear.