If you like David Sedaris then you like him, and if you don’t, well then I don’t know what’s wrong with you. Apparently you have no sense of humor. One criticism I read of this latest collection of essays is that if you like David Sedaris you’ve probably already read most of them because they were already published in The New Yorker, Esquire, or This American Life. As it happens only a few of them were already familiar to me (and I gladly reread them.)
I think it is impossible to read Sedaris’s stuff without hearing him in your head. My favorite bits are when he talks about Hugh, who clearly is a saint to put up with David, and when he talks about his siblings. And I can’t get over that he quite smoking by moving to Hong Kong for three months. All I could think was “wow you have a lot of money and an extremely flexible lifestyle.”
