Ecclesiastes, Chapter 1: A breath of fresh air?

I keep hearing that Ecclesiastes is the best book in the bible. The bible as it should be. I know that isn't saying much, but I'm ever hopeful.

Anyway, Ecclesiastes is supposedly written by a son of David's who became king who isn't Solomon. Some people who care enough about proving all the inconsistencies in the bible will point out to you that in other places in this same book, it is stated that only Solomon became a king. I shrug that the authors of the bible were too cheap to pay for a decent copy editor.

Then the book becomes a meditation on death. First, everything is meaningless. Hmm, sounds like somebody's been playing FarmVille!. Why is it meaningless? Because we all die. Meanwhile, the earth goes on... earthing, the sun rises and sets, the wind blows and the rivers flow.

Every one and every thing is tired, yet dissatisfied. And then history repeats itself, because there is nothing new under the sun (v. 9). We don't remember the past, nor will people remember us.

The preacher claims to have seen everything, which is how you know he's lying, and concluded that everything is vanity or vexation and there's no hope. Even though he's rich and great and wise, he's sad.