Ardent readers of David Sedaris know his allusions to the massive volume of diaries the humor essayist has logged every day since the late seventies. And now fans finally have a (albeit a cursory) glimpse of the daily musings, the source material for his essays.
While each entry is a standalone anecdote, together they string several candid narratives from his wayward progression out of North Carolina through Chicago, New York and Paris. The most vibrant entries are centered around his family. While he’s declarative of their eccentricities, it’s endearing to read about the bond they share.
Equally admirable is Sedaris’s sincerity about his own struggles. Here is a writer with enough humility to admit to watching a Twilight Zone marathon while drunk and stoned (later confessing to being drunk every night for eighteen straight years), and who once referred to his shoddy appearance as that of “a tired, fur-bearing whale.” Lovable too is his refusal to become a braggart in his later sobriety and improved health.
Finally, he shares with us his reluctance to accept his new-found life as an established author, with prolonged stays on the bestseller lists and first-class accommodations on extensive book tours. He himself seems most perplexed. But with as much talent as he possesses, he really shouldn’t be.
Concerning his humility, the only qualm to be had is his bashful insistence that one wouldn’t want to read his diaries from start to finish. With his observational wit this entertaining however, that’s exactly what you’ll do.