This is one of those books that I read out of recommendation. Would you bother knowing who recommended this to me? Again, it’s none other than the local writer Jessica Zafra. The woman really had me. I suspect that it’s not only me who was so into her because I have seen a lot of college articles back in my college heydays that sounded like her, and worse, that were plagiarisms of her.
I remember she accused Sedaris of stealing her ideas for a book. COme think of it, it’s really preposterous. Anyway, he must be that stupendous, I thought, so I went to the book store with my meager college allowance to get me a copy of one of his books. And this is the one that I got.
Yes, he is funny, he is weird, he is gay. He is like me. A lot like me. But really, is he?
I checked my rating of this book on my GR account, and I surprised myself for seeing those four stars. It means I loved the book. But I can’t recall much, except that he moved to France with his lover and that he drowned a mouse in a bucket of water at the dead of the night.
I think the humor of Sedaris is not for everyone. I would not recommend it to the average reader because a prospective Sedaris reader has to have an inclination to the peculiar to enjoy this book. He has to be a little cynical and self-conscious, something akin to delusions of grandeur. Well, I am a huge cynic and was, was, afflicted with that delusion I just mentioned.
I admit that I sometimes still I am. But I don’t let it get me. They just come during idle moments, so I don’t think it’s something harmful or degenerative. It’s even healthy; it’s an exercise of my imagination and mental faculties.
So Sedaris tried to study French, which is a sort of requirement in order to communicate with his neighbors at the little village that they settled in. The village leant more on the country side, and country people have this tendency to engage themselves in idle talk. Not that I am attacking country people, for I am country boy lost in an urban jungle myself, but the lack of things to do in such places and the idyllic backdrop against the lives of country people allows for talks.
I really don’t know why Sedaris moved to France, and I don’t recall if he ever really learned French. Not that it really matters. Although the essays mostly revolve around his learning of this language, it’s more about the experiences revolving around it than the learning process itself.
So my question still remains unanswered. Is Sedaris really a lot like me? It would be really assumptive to compare myself to him based on one book. Although his writings reflect a lot of himself, it still isn’t enough basis.
People do not always appear what they try to look. For all we know, the writings of Sedaris might have been exaggerated or even twisted to make us life. To meet publisher requirements. To meet market demands. To come up with this book.
So yes, the question will remain unanswered. All I can confirm is that I am funny in weird ways. And I’m gay, like I have been gay all my life and that’s it. It’s not something that I should be making a big fuss about because I am comfortable with it and I have no problems with it.