David Sedaris, Holidays on Ice, 1997.

I have said much about this writer's work. There isn't a lot to say about this collection of Christmas stories, other than to know that it includes his earliest work for NPR: the "Santaland Diaries." Sedaris details his time spent as an elf at Santaland, in Macy's department store, and what he sees and overhears. The stories are funny, and one can see why they caused such excitement, but I prefer the drier and more self-mocking stories of the later collections.

David Sedaris, Me Talk Pretty One Day, 2000.

As I've already talked at length about two other similar books, here and here, I'm just going to quote a short section from this book.

     "Let me get this straight," one student said. "You're telling me that if I say something out loud, it's me saying it, but if I write the exact same thing on a paper, it's somebody else, right?"
     "Yes," I said, "And we're calling that fiction."
     The student pulled out his notebook, wrote something down, and handed me a sheet of paper that read, "That's the stupidest fucking thing I ever heard in my life."
     They were a smart group. (93)

I like reading Sedaris's stuff.

David Sedaris, Naked, 1998.

I've been waiting to read this book since the end of September, when I read Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim.
I placed holds on Naked and Me Talk Pretty One Day and they've both just arrived for me at the Library.

I wrote, of DYFiCaD:

The stories in this collection are moments--some brief, some spanning a bit of time, all requiring some backstory. Sedaris writes in such a way that the stories feel both spare in the economy of their words and rich in the opulence of the images that he depicts. His eye is exacting, unflinching, and honest in talking about himself and his family. There is a pathos to each story, each bit of misery and delight, and a delightful quirkiness to those things that grasp his attention.

I'm now at a loss to say much else about Naked, and I suspect will have the same feeling after MTPOD. This inability isn't due to Sedaris being boring or repetitive; each story is fresh and exciting. I'm constantly befuddled and amused and saddened by Sedaris's anectodes: in each one, I'm drawn into the story and don't want to leave at the other end. What my repetitve assessment indicates to me is that Sedaris's strength as a writer is to capture these moments--a strength that comes across to the reader lately come to these stories, and one that's well known indeed to listeners to This American Life.

Go read Naked; you'll enjoy it.

David Sedaris, Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim, 2004.

I'm a sucker for a well-told examination of a moment, a reflection recollected in tranquillity, a commonplace that offers or seems to offer some flickering moment of deeper understanding of the world. Sedaris' book is perfect for that, and I'm sure I'll be rushing off to get my hands on Me Talk Pretty One Day.

The stories in this collection are moments--some brief, some spanning a bit of time, all requiring some back story. Sedaris writes in such a way that the stories feel both spare in the economy of their words and rich in the opulence of the images that he depicts. His eye is exacting, unflinching, and honest in talking about himself and his family. There is a pathos to each story, each bit of misery and delight, and a delightful quirkiness to those things that grasp his attention.

Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim is funny and well worth reading. I really enjoyed it.