Okay, so maybe it's not so much of a boo-hoo type of crying, rather a laugh-out-loud, tears-streaming-down my face sort of crying that's interspersed with the occasional and never-appropriate snort. I'm referring of course to listening to my current book on tape, David Sedaris' When You Are Engulfed in Flames. I'm a fan of Mr. Sedaris, having read Me Talk Pretty One Day, Naked and Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim years ago during the time in my life when I still read books in print. Now, I find listening to them in the car is easier, as I am by nature a rather lazy person. I'm so lazy, in fact, that even though I only live two blocks from the public library I can't be bothered to go and pick up my audio books in person. I just have them delivered to my doorstep!
David's not the only Sedaris I love. Amy Sedaris (known to all of you Strangers with Candy fans from Comedy Central) is a talented actress and author in her own right having written I Like You: Hospitality Under the Influence. This is a practical book - and the only one I've read in which I've learned how to make a macrame plant holder out of used pantyhose. I'd love to know what they fed those kids growing up in the Sedaris household because both of them are impossibly funny. If you've never read anything by David, I suggest you run out and purchase one of his books - or just tune in to NPR, since he's a regular contributor.
So as I was listening to him this morning on my drive in to the office I toyed with the idea that perhaps keeping a daily journal is an excellent idea, but I wonder how he does it. I read an article on him in the New York Times and apparently he is often amused that people think his writing is completely autobiographical when in fact, he embellishes the heck out of his stories. He calls them 'realish'. I love that term. But even if there's an overdose of fiction in his memoirs, I can't imagine opening yourself up like that to dissection from your friends and family. I'm mortified by the idea of everyone I know actually discovering how I really feel about them. Over the years I've learned the hard way that it's better to keep ones opinions to oneself. Certainly my friends and family don't want to be enlightened by my poignant observations. I think my best friend Suzanne said it succinctly when she told me (after I informed her of way she sips her coffees in the morning, making a rather loud slurping sound before swilling the hot coffee in her mouth like an expensive wine) that I should "keep my hard hitting journalism to my damn self".
So how does he get away with it? And how does he stand his friends and family saying, 'well, you know I never said that.' over and over again? I think it may have to do with the fact that he turns his most witty observations (and criticisms) on himself. I guess I'm just not that self-deprecating. British humor dictates it is infinitely better to laugh at others than at oneself and that's sort of how I look at comedy. Now I realize that the Brits are by nature very self-deprecating, but I think the distinction lies in the fact that while emotions and sentimentality aren't easy for the British, we (Americans) don't feel entitled to laugh at others. For example, it's gauche to laugh when your mother trips (which I do when she does), but one need only look at the characters Eddy, Mrs. Bucket, Victor Meldrew, or David Brent to understand that we're not laughing with them, but at them.
In any case, When You Are Engulfed in Flames is hilarious.
