Author: David Sedaris
Translator: Dong-seop Cho
Publisher: Woongjin.com
328 pages | 210*142mm
| Important! Please read before you order! |
| >>>This book is written in Korean. |
About This Book
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
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