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If there
is such a thing as off-color humor, and if that humor is defined
by say, Lenny Bruce or George Carlin, then David Sedaris has
settled himself perfectly in the middle of that definition.
In his sixth collection of essays, When You Are Engulfed
in Flames, Sedaris proves that no topic is too embarrassing
or risqué to avoid elaboration. Oddly, he also proves
that even seemingly mundane topics—monogamy and smoking,
for instance—are not the fodder of less talented authors
when given his penchant for plot twists.
The 22
essays that comprise Flames are hardly cohesive in
subject, save for their tendency of putting the author in
repeatedly awkward and uncomfortable situations and evaluating
the expected squirm. As with his previous collections, Sedaris
focuses heavily on his childhood in North Carolina and on
his varied and often offbeat job choices in his pre-literati
days.
Take
"Old Faithful," a brief episode wherein Sedaris discovers
a boil/growth/tumor on his tailbone, and instead of seeing
a doctor, spends almost a week in constant pain before allowing
his boyfriend to "lance it off." For readers, the scene is
both endearing and nauseating. At its heart, "Old Faithful"
is a sort of love story that revolves more around Sedaris's
romantic and un-ironically faithful relationship than a pus-filled
monstrosity, but it is David Sedaris after all, and it wouldn't
be right not to smile at least while dry-heaving. It isn't
just that Sedaris is funny, his comic timing in Flames is
simply unrivaled in pop lit. Having a boil or accidently befriending
a child molester is one thing, but Sedaris delivers each self-effacing
punch with just the right amount of empathy and confused sincerity
that prompt readers to consider their own absurdities while
reveling in his.
Possibly
included in response to allegations last year by The New
Republic writer Alex Heard, who suggested that his stories
were "beyond the boundaries of comic exaggeration," Sedaris
offers "What I Learned," a truly fabricated piece about double-majoring
at Princeton in patricide and matricide. Originally published
in 2006, the story says, "I date myself, but back then, we
were on a pass-fail system. If you passed, you got to live,
and if you failed you were burned alive on a pyre that's now
the Transgender Studies Building." In addition to poking fun
at Ivy leagues, Sedaris also goes after his parents, who profess
to be "disappointed" by his interest in "literaturizing,"
exacting a cruel torture when he becomes a writer, and essentially
killing them when he actually publishes a book.
And then
there are the stories about the weird. It should go without
saying that Sedaris's main angle is taking the normal and
seeing the bizarre. Even as he moves to France, it seems as
if Sedaris can never do as much as take a walk around the
block without falling into some sort of sinkhole of absurdity.
In "Stadium Pal," he discusses the pros and cons of wearing
an external catheter; and in "Monster Mash," where after buying
his boyfriend's most desired gift—a human skeleton—Sedaris
can't walk by it without hearing it whisper, "You are going
to die."
In "The
Smoking Section," the longest in the collection, Sedaris recounts
the period of time in 2006 when he finally stopped smoking.
After being shut out of restaurants, hotels, and even entire
cities, Sedaris reflects on the role cigarettes have played
in his life as gifts from his mother, as duty-free inventory,
and simply as something particularly delicious in which he
can't help indulging. In a smoking cessation program of his
own invention, Sedaris and boyfriend Hugh travel to Japan
in an effort to readjust routines to a life where smoking
plays a decidedly less important role. Cut into three sections,
this may be the most laborious, self-anatomizing piece to
get through, if only due to the brevity of the other essays.
But the desire to finish, to play witness to this semi-epic
journey is overwhelming, and as the last piece, it is over
all too soon.
With
Flames, Sedaris essentially repeats his über-successful
formula for comic memoir. Those familiar with his oeuvre will
probably not be as awed as they were with Me Talk Pretty
One Day, and the book might feel like a second cousin
with the many stories about his family, but that definitely
shouldn't imply that Flames is any less than his other
work. If anything, this collection fits right in with a just
right mixture of wry and misplaced sincerity. If it is difficult
for serial memoirists to develop original material, Sedaris
hasn't been burdened yet.
(July
2008)
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