The magazine I've always most looked forward to, year in, year out is McSweeney's.

I'm not alone.

Dave Eggers has always been a creative genius with the perfect ear and the perfect edge. He's almost too good at what he does. Everyone wants a piece of his varied skills.

We first met Dave through his quirky, humor magazine, Might. When rumors of a newer magazine started circulating, we tracked down the first McSweeney's, to Ninth Street in Brooklyn! I think we were the only place south of DC carrying the original print runs, now all collector items, coveted on Ebay.

Printed in Iceland, Timothy McSweeney's Quarterly Concern has always been delicious to look at, "feel," and play catch-up with. Early issues carried wonderful rambling small print text right after the title page, describing the minutia of production. Future issues pushed the boundaries of packaging, using all manner of wrapping, binding, inserts, wraparounds and rubberbanding, always with an all-star cast. This was Print Media with a capital P.

Eggers is a writer, designer, teacher/tutor, editor and charismatic lit magnet for talent. He's the Ken Kesey of his generation. It's no coincidence the magazine moved to San Francisco.

Word of mouth for his McSweeney's book tour was very strong. The downstairs was packed one night, standing room only, anticipating his arrival. When he did arrive, he apologized for keeping folks waiting, saying traffic was bad and he had even missed dinner.

Decamping to our green room (uh, the storage vault) with a few friends, including his future wife, Dave got ready for the reading. He signed stock, small talked and then took the stage.

And I mean took the stage.

In the early sixties, City Lights Bookstore in San Francisco was the home base of the beat spoken word revolution. Each time I go there, as a bookseller, as a pilgrim, I get chills going down the narrow steps to the their basement. There's no "basement" like it anywhere. The brickwalls are holy. They've heard all the words, from Ginsberg to Kerouac, Ferlinghetti to Snyder. That room is special.

Well, that's what it felt like at the Regulator that night when Dave Eggers started to read. As he rocked back and forth, telling his stories, the room grew hushed, then buoyant. His prose was personal, funny and provocative. We nodded, laughed, and wished the evening would not end.

At the signing afterward, four different people came up with dinners for him. He graciously took the donations to his car and got back on the road with his fellow modern-day merry pranksters.

John Valentine