David Sedariphrenic

February 13th, 2008 at 3:31 am

If I had my druthers, I’d have a hankering to say that David Sedaris should be one of Our most cherished authors of American Letters. But he lives in France. So that makes him not only an ex-pat but a quitter too.

We’d all like to leave the States, David, but what would the United States be without each one of our own unique contributions to its blubbering hubris and whimsy? We’re in this together! We can’t all have the eloquence and common sense to leave. We’d miss out on all the rousing good Excess. And as I’m sure you know, David, excess tends to be FUN.

I like David Sedaris. He is Good. Irregardless of what he calls his forthcoming work, I will read it. David Sedaris is Augusten Burroughs for the New Yorker reader. Literally. And I don’t mean in regards to literature. He actually writes for The New Yorker.

His sixth collection of essays is currently titled “When You Are Engulfed in Flames.” It has also been referred to as “Indefinite Leave to Remain” and “All the Beauty You Will Ever Need.” While none of these labels have the resonance of “Me Talk Pretty One Day,” I don’t care if he calls his next book “Beautiful, Combustible Primates Gallivanting Around a Sculpture of Cher,” I will read it.

And if there’s hope for this gaggle of illiterates we call a Society, it is David Sedaris. Who else can tour the country’s theaters reading? I mean, I don’t even think he dances or sings. A few jokes, of course, but the only pyrotechnics are his cigarettes. What other authors can make an appearance on Letterman and get applause and laughter?

Probably several. I hope they make Their Way.

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One Response to “David Sedariphrenic”

  1. Awww…. A DS Shout Out!!! (Wow! I am behind on your site…)

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