Source of book: Audiobook from the library
Having read Calypso with our book club a while back, I figured I would return to David Sedaris. In this case, now that my kids are older and not as likely to be bored with this sort of a book, we listened to it while driving for one of our camping trips. My 15 year old laughed through the whole thing. My nearly-13 year old wasn’t quite as amused, but said she enjoyed it.
Me Talk Pretty One Day is an earlier book, published in 2000. Which means that there are a few dated moments. Most notable is when he talks about the new-fangled internet of the late 1990s. But also a few of the less “politically correct” moments where he uses terms that he would very likely change in a book written today. I hesitate to complain about this, because his humor is self-deprecating, not mean-spirited, and because of that, incidental stuff isn’t worth fighting over, in my opinion.
The title itself, for example, could sound a bit like pidgin English. But it is actually a reference to his struggles to learn to speak French, and his butchering of the language while living in Normandy with his partner Hugh. Big difference between mocking people learning English, and making fun of one’s own difficulties.
As I mentioned about his previous book, Sedaris is a comedian, an entertainer, not a historian. His stories are therefore a bit exaggerated, changed slightly for comedic effect, and should not be held to the standard of absolute accuracy.
On the other hand, as one who often tells stories myself on this blog, I am all too aware of the problem of memory. Some of my family members have objected to my memories of events, particularly if those memories aren’t flattering to them. I realize that their memories differ, and that we do not have a video recorder to consult to arbitrate between those versions. So I can tell that Sedaris also has this issue in his memories - he too has to tell them how he remembers them, and how he experienced them.
The book is divided into two sections. The first is all about his memories from childhood through adulthood - not a systematic history, but a series of vignettes. The second is about his time in France, particularly focusing on his war with the French language.
The audiobook was read by the author (he has a great live show, so why not?) Throughout, there are versions from his live shows, and ones he recorded just for the book. Both are high audio quality, which is good for travel listening.
The book starts out with Sedaris’ experience in speech therapy in elementary school. This was amusing in part because my 15 year old went through Speech Therapy himself - and Sedaris is hilariously accurate in doing not only his lisping self but the southern accent of his teacher, and the different lisps of his fellow students. Apparently, while this particular therapy wasn’t particularly successful, Sedaris did learn enough to gain an ear for speech that has served him well.
I also liked his tale of his father’s obsession with jazz and his attempt to get his children to learn instruments and form a jazz combo. It didn’t go well, as the children had neither the aptitude nor the desire for music. A bit of a contrast to myself - my parents didn’t really envision us as musicians, but I wanted to learn violin. Fortunately, they were incredibly supportive, and I now play semi-professionally. Particularly hilarious in this story is Sedaris’ real skill: singing television jingles.
Less amusing but more poignant are the stories about his trying to become an artist while fueled by methamphetamine - he is truly lucky he was able to get clean - and the stories of the demises of his childhood pets. Sure, there are funny moments, but also a lot of ache behind the laughs.
We all enjoyed “Today’s Special,” about eating out in New York City at upscale restaurants serving bizarre food.
I also thought “City of Angels” and “A Shiner Like a Diamond” were hilarious. They are the story of his friend who brings her girlfriend to visit New York City, and does the tasteless tourist thing to perfection, and the practical joke his sister Amy (the actor and playwright) plays on their dad, who obsesses over his daughters’ weight, respectively.
The second half is mostly a continuation of the same story, with a few amusing interjections. Poor David, getting dragged to Normandy by his far more cosmopolitan partner Hugh, and having to struggle to communicate. Gender in particular bedevils him: who can remember whether a sandwich is male or female? Often, he just goes with the plural, leading to significant overpurchasing issues.
The story of the class trying to explain (in terrible French) the holiday of Easter to a Moroccan student is laugh-out-loud hilarious. Fortunately, he did this for “This American Life” on NPR, so you can listen to it here.
I’ll also mention the riff on the time he was mistaken (by ugly-american tourists) for a French pickpocket, and the one about his father’s hoarding tendencies. Good stuff.
The book closes on a far more poignant note than humorous. Sedaris’ family is pretty dysfunctional, although perhaps not more than usual. Like so many parents of my grandparents’ generation, his parents didn’t handle the fact that he is gay all that well. He mentions moving back home after his failed art school endeavors, mostly sitting around and getting high.
Eventually, and no surprise to him, he is told he has to move out. As his mother accompanies him to his sister’s house, she is on the verge of saying something, but is unable to.
As he found out a few years later, his dad kicked him out for being gay, even if he couldn’t say it. As Sedaris riffs, “Not for being no good? Not for being an addict? Not for being a mooch?” Which are the reasons he assumed he was being evicted - those were good reasons, after all.
As Calypso tells it, he managed to remain in contact with his parents until their deaths, even when his dad went all Trumpy in his old age. So it wasn’t a dead loss. But really, how many shattered relationships have been the result of anti-LGBTQ bigotry? It is the rule rather than the exception. This is achingly sad, and with the book ending that way, it is hard not to feel Sedaris’ own grief at what might have been.
I should probably give the warning that there is a decent bit of language in this book, both of the usual “nine Saxon physiological monosyllables” variety, and of the frank sexual content. Your mileage may vary, but I long ago rejected the hypocritical puritanism of my Fundamentalist upbringing - you know, where we can’t say “fuck” and obsess about clothing but look the other way when the pastor or priest or cult leader rapes children kind of thing. So my kids have heard stuff that my parents would totally freak out about. (That and the “normalizing” the existence of LGBTQ people of course…) Oh well, I lost their approval long ago anyway, just like Sedaris did from his parents. Life happens and you move on.
Anyway, I enjoyed this book, and enjoyed Sedaris’ reading of it - he’s the rare author who is the best reader of his own books.
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