David Sedaris

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Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris

David Sedaris became a star autobiographer on public radio, onstage in New York, and on bestseller lists, mostly on the strength of "SantaLand Diaries," a scathing, hilarious account of his stint as a Christmas elf at Macy's. (It's in two separate collections, both worth owning, Barrel Fever and the Christmas-themed Holidays on Ice.) Sedaris's caustic gift has not deserted him in his fourth book, which mines poignant comedy from his peculiar childhood in North Carolina, his bizarre career path, and his move with his lover to France. Though his anarchic inclination to digress is his glory, Sedaris does have a theme in these reminiscences: the inability of humans to communicate. The title is his rendition in transliterated English of how he and his fellow students of French in Paris mangle the Gallic language. In the essay "Jesus Shaves," he and his classmates from many nations try to convey the concept of Easter to a Moroccan Muslim. "It is a party for the little boy of God," says one. "Then he be die one day on two... morsels of... lumber," says another. Sedaris muses on the disputes between his Protestant mother and his father, a Greek Orthodox guy whose Easter fell on a different day. Other essays explicate his deep kinship with his eccentric mom and absurd alienation from his IBM-exec dad: "To me, the greatest mystery of science continues to be that a man could father six children who shared absolutely none of his interests."

Every glimpse we get of Sedaris's family and acquaintances delivers laughs and insights. He thwarts his North Carolina speech therapist ("for whom the word pen had two syllables") by cleverly avoiding all words with s sounds, which reveal the lisp she sought to correct. His midget guitar teacher, Mister Mancini, is unaware that Sedaris doesn't share his obsession with breasts, and sings "Light My Fire" all wrong--"as if he were a Webelo scout demanding a match." As a remarkably unqualified teacher at the Art Institute of Chicago, Sedaris had his class watch soap operas and assign "guessays" on what would happen in the next day's episode.

It all adds up to the most distinctively skewed autobiography since Spalding Gray's Swimming to Cambodia. The only possible reason not to read this book is if you'd rather hear the author's intrinsically funny speaking voice narrating his story. In that case, get Me Talk Pretty One Day on audio. --Tim Appelo

Holidays on Ice by David Sedaris

Holidays on Ice is a collection of three previously published stories matched with three newer ones, all, of course, on a Christmas theme. David Sedaris's darkly playful humor is another common thread through the book, worming its way through "Seasons Greetings to Our Friends and Family!!!" a chipper suburban Christmas letter that spirals dizzily out of control, and "Front Row Center with Thaddeus Bristol," a vicious theatrical review of children's Christmas pageants. As always, Sedaris's best work is his sharply observed nonfiction, notably in "Dinah, the Christmas Whore," the tale of a memorable Christmas during which the young Sedaris learns to see his family in a new light. Worth the price of the book alone is the hilarious "SantaLand Diaries," Sedaris's chronicle of his time working as an elf at Macy's, covering everything from the preliminary group lectures ("You are not a dancer. If you were a real dancer you wouldn't be here. You're an elf and you're going to wear panties like an elf.") to the perils of inter-elf flirtation. Along the way, he paints a funny and sad portrait of the way the countless parents who pass through SantaLand are too busy creating an Experience to really pay attention to their children. In a sly way, it carries a holiday message all its own. Read it aloud to the adults after the kids have gone to bed. --Ali Davis

David Sedaris: Just a Writer

By Seth Rogovoy

Excerpt:

"I like to reserve the right to write about whatever I like," said Sedaris, 41. "Sometimes I have gay characters and sometimes I don't. I think it's harder if you're gay to just be known as a writer instead of being known as a gay writer. But personally I would rather be known as a writer rather than be segregated to that little corner of the bookstore."

Nevertheless, it's the little corners of existence -- life in the margins -- that provides the fodder for most of Sedaris's work. His writing, which has been called "a caustic mix of J.D. Salinger and John Waters," spares no one -- friends, family, co-workers -- from Sedaris's unique, distorted lens, which accentuates the hideous and grotesque aspects of ordinary life...

David Sedaris Interview

By Linda Richards, JanuaryMagazine.com

Excerpt:

Those who have read any of David Sedaris' work at all know that he's openly and happily gay. In fact, he shares his Paris home with Hugh Hamrick, the person he refers to frequently as his boyfriend. I find myself wondering what Hugh would make of Sedaris' lunchtime obsession with our server. After a while, though, I don't wonder. Sedaris' curiosity is large and very real. He is curious about almost everyone and everything and occasionally, when he finds something especially noteworthy, he pulls out a battered little spiral book and jots himself a note. Fuel -- as is everything he comes in contact with -- for the furnace of creativity he can become while working on a book...

Sedaris Gets Naked

Excerpt:

Sedaris shares his fourth-floor walk-up with his boyfriend of seven years, Hugh Hamrick, who paints backdrops for Broadway shows. They met when Sedaris relocated from Chicago.

"When I moved to New York, I thought, `God, everybody will be taken.' And I don't go to bars, and I didn't want to. . . ." Sedaris trails off, perhaps wary of causing some kind of offense. "I thought, `Maybe everyone will favor handcuffs,' or `Maybe everyone will have their hair colored like a dandelion.' Then Hugh was just so normal. I loved the way he had his house set up, and that there was always something baking in the oven."

Their apartment is bright and airy. Windows are almost always open, a precondition for Sedaris's smoking. (There are two neat stacks of Kool cigarette packages on a shelf near the honey-bear bong.) The kitchen has a 1950s-white-sink-and-refrigerator look, with a solid wooden table near a barroom-style bathroom door (whose thin sign reads GENTLEMEN). There's a horseshoe above the front door, which adds to the rustic feel, and the apartment has several lamps made of popsicle sticks that Sedaris wants to get rid of because they're so difficult to clean. The place is spotless, of course...

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