Sunday, June 17, 2018

Calypso, by David Sedaris


Collected short pieces from the unique voice of Sedaris, a few of which I read previously in the New Yorker.  Unlike his earlier work, not many of these are laugh-out-loud-funny.  Although his life has never been an easy or pain-free one, and much of his writing has an edge, there is a new darkness in this book.  He writes about his mother’s early death from alcoholism, and her dual personae of beloved mom and embarrassing horror show; about his sister Tiffany’s suicide at 50, after a disturbed and disturbing life quasi-homeless; and more than one story hinges on just plain being gross.  I miss the “me talk pretty one day” Sedaris, but a there’s been a lot of water under the bridge in the intervening seventeen years and that water contains a monstrous snapping turtle with a cancerous growth on its head.  259 pp.

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